This single line in Puccini’s operatic monument Tosca is but a passing moment in the three hour production, and yet it is an embodiment of the whole of the piece, reflecting all levels of the cascade of deeper meaning within the musical masterwork. Puccini’s adroit adaptation of a play by Victorien Sardou explores moral, political, and religious issues, all within the framework of a traditional romantic tragedy.
The opera takes place in 19th century Rome, a city thrown into chaos as a massive French invasion led by Napoleon sweeps through Italy. Baron Scarpia is the corrupt chief of police and the de facto governor, on a crusade against the artistic freedom which sprouts from the ideology of his liberal political opponents. Mario Cavaradossi is a precocious young painter of religious subjects who lives in the city. Floria Tosca, the titular female lead, is his lover, a wildly popular opera singer.
The narrative begins when Cavaradossi helps a friend, who is a political enemy of Scarpia, go into hiding. In return, the power-hungry maniac imprisons Cavaradossi, torturing him in the hopes of coercing out the escapee’s location. He also arrests Tosca, forcing her to listen to the gruesome screams. By agonizing her with the leverage of the life of her beloved, the jealous Scarpia pressures her into giving herself to him in order to save her love. Tosca is forced to watch him suffer, and eventually agrees to give herself to the jealous Scarpia in order to save her lover’s life. The antagonist orders a “mock execution” of Cavaradossi, allowing the artist to live, then rushes to collect his prize, only to be met by the blade of a knife wielded by Tosca. In a heartrending conclusion, Tosca arrives at the prison to save Cavaradossi, only to witness gunfire cut him down as the true nature of Scarpia’s final order is revealed. Surrounded by police storming in to arrest Tosca for murder, the protagonist commits suicide, vowing to meet Scarpia before God.
The characters each bring intricate qualities to the play: Cavaradossi and Tosca are both free-spirited artists, whose passion for their work is only surpassed by their love for each other and, in the case of Tosca, God. Scarpia is a philistine, unable to appreciate the artistry and beauty of the two lovers, but envious of both their talent and their relationship. Every scene and act of the tightly interwoven drama is saturated with rich, nuanced commentary based on these qualities.
Tosca starts as a pious, devout Christian, but her faith wanes gradually as each prayer she makes in her time of need is met with silence. Her dilemma over God is a reflection of Puccini’s internal conflict between his humanism as an artist and his devotion as a Catholic. Scarpia’s cold ambition fuses with his inability to appreciate art and spawns an obsession with ownership. In the scene where he tortures Cavaradossi, the set is strewn with statues seized from various sites, packaged away in the dark. Eventually, Scarpia’s desire to possess the fiery Tosca leads to his demise.
The overarching conflict of Scarpia’s addiction to control clashing against the defiant and unrelenting nature of the two lovers is subtext advocating for freedom of expression. This is integral to the fundamental theme Puccini pushes in his masterpiece: a celebration and appreciation of the arts. His message is championed far and wide by artists to this day. A contemporary network cultivates interest in the arts through programs such as LA Opera 90012 (which granted me this profound experience), fights against actions like the defunding of the National Endowment for the Arts, and promotes it through radio stations like KUSC and youth outreach programs like LACMA’s NexGen. Ultimately, the spirit and passion of Cavaradossi, Tosca, and their designer Puccini thrives in the hearts of those who have lived for art and lived for love.
