The Opera Singer as Stereotype
and its Association with the Medieval Period
by Sir Egil Njalsson
(September 1995)

When someone mentions the words "opera singer" to you, what comes to mind? I have asked this question of numerous people, and tend to get one of two answers: either a large Italian tenor, or a fat, loud lady with a horned helmet. The reader will undoubtedly be able to visualize both of these images, for they are indeed a part of our modern culture. The first stereotype is due to the recent (within the past few years) resurgence of the popularity of such singers as Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingas, and Jose Carreras in their "three tenor" concerts and recordings. This paper will address the second stereotype: the proverbial "fat lady."

The phrase "It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings" marks the extent of many people's knowledge of opera. Modern opera goers often attend performances of shows with strange themes sung in unfamiliar languages, and come away with a feeling of disorientation and alienation. All they know to do is wait for the fat lady -- often the star of the show -- to die, after singing about how tragic life is. This isn't an accurate stereotype of opera, but is nevertheless an idea many people hold.

This is a great pity, as the great realm of opera has much to offer the average listener. Operas are simply staged plays in which singing takes a prominent role, and as such they are part of a broad spectrum of entertainment which I call "music-intensive plays." This spectrum also includes popular Broadway musicals and even such box office hits as "Aladdin" and "The Lion King;" though opera tends to be viewed as being on the more "serious" or "artsy" end of that spectrum. They may be comedies, tragedies, histories, legends, love stories, or whatever kind of story the composer liked.

As an example of what opera has to offer, let us look at some of the works of Richard Wagner, who lived in the 1800s in what is now Germany. Wagner was a great fan of the medieval period. In particular, he loved the old Viking tales of gods and heroes, love and war, and celebration and destruction. In 1848 this led him to begin work on an opera called "Siegfried's Death," which incorporated great dramatic scenes of love and battle, and ended with the destruction of the world in what the Vikings called "Ragnarok," the final battle in which all of the nine worlds are destroyed in flame. Yet once he started on this piece, Wagner realized that most of the audience wouldn't have as much background as he did, and he decided to write another opera to act as a prelude. This second opera was entitled "The Young Siegfried." But even this assumed a lot of prior knowledge, so Wagner wrote two more operas to set up the situations in the other two. By 1872, 24 years after he started, he had completed the set of four, which came to be known as "The Ring of the Nibelung." This set consists of "The Rhine Gold," "The Valkyries," "Siegfried" (originally "The Young Siegfried") and "The Doom of the Gods" (originally "Siegfried's Death").

The continuing storyline follows the fate of a pile of magic gold which starts at the bottom of the Rhine River, protected by water nymphs. Legend says that anyone willing to renounce love forever may take the gold and forge it into a magical ring which will give the wearer virtually limitless power. A Nibelung (one of a race of dwarves) comes along to try to seduce the nymphs and is completely rejected. Feeling he'll never get love anyway, he renounces it and grabs the gold, which he then makes into a ring. In the meantime, the gods have had a great hall ("Valhalla") built for them by two giants, who are demanding payment. As part of the payment, the gods grab the ring, though not before the dwarf puts a curse on it. One of the giants then kills the other, turns himself into a dragon through the power of the ring, and hides in a cave with the treasure. Years later, along comes Siegfried who has been raised alone in the woods by another dwarf. He ends up killing the dragon, and thus gains the ring. Later, he sees a magical fire on top of a mountain, and investigates it. Crossing through a ring of fire which can only be crossed by "one who knows no fear" (something the dwarf had never gotten around to teaching Siegfried about), he finds Brunhild in a magical sleep, and awakens her with a kiss. Brunhild is one of nine warrior goddesses known as Valkyries, and had been put there years earlier by her father Odin for protecting Siegfried's father, against Odin's wishes. Siegfried ends up giving her the ring as a pledge of his love. Their relationship starts off wonderfully, but trickery and deceit by others tear them apart. It ends with their deaths and a big funeral pyre, which spreads to encompass the nine worlds. The Rhine floods and sweeps across the site, and the ring ends up back at the bottom of the river where it belongs.

The above is my very condensed version of the story: the four operas together encompass about 17 hours of performance time. What we commonly call "The Ring Cycle" is a major undertaking for any opera company. Even any one of the operas is too much for most opera companies to handle.

But back to Brunhild: she, as was mentioned before, is a Valkyrie. These are nine sisters, all daughters of Odin and (don't ask me how) sea foam. They are warrior goddesses, and fly over battles where Vikings are fighting, scooping up those men who die bravely in battle, and taking them to Valhalla to serve on the army of the gods in preparation for the battle which will mark the end of our age. The Valkyries ride flying horses, and are decked out as a stereotypical (though not an actual) Viking maiden would dress: typically a long dress, with body armor over the top; carrying a shield and a spear; and with a horned helmet topping her long blonde braids. Sound familiar? Add the word "fat" and you've got the image of the stereotypical opera singer. Indeed, that image IS of the character Brunhild, and comes from these specific operas.

(Why "fat"? This was an old tradition which has since mostly died out. The theory, in earlier centuries, was that you need a big set of lungs in order to sing loudly enough to be heard in the back rows. Big sets of lungs are normally accompanied by big everything else. Plus, in the late Renaissance and early Baroque periods, only men sung in operas, so to do the ladies parts they castrated -- with their permission -- some of the men. Ever neutered a cat? They tend to put on weight, for lack of anything else to do. 'Nuff said. Though they later stopped castrating men, the tradition of "fat singer = good singer" stuck around for quite a while.)

Though Brunhild is neither accurate as a picture of a Viking, nor accurate as a picture of the typical modern opera singer, the image has stuck in our minds. The fact that we think of Brunhild when we think of the term "opera singer" shows the impact these operas had: they were so powerful, and so well done, that one of their characters has become the "definitive" opera singer in our culture. We have Wagner and his love of the wonderful tales of the Vikings to thank for that.

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