ATILLA

(Pronounced AHT-tee-la.) This is a charming, disheveled little opera about a singing Hun. The music is so pleasantly goofy that it is impossible to take anything in it seriously, which you will soon realize is just as well.

We begin in the ruins of Aquileia, where Attila's horde of Huns is celebrating rape, pillage, blood and devastation, and giving thanks to Wodano (Odin), a deity the Huns did not worship. Comes Attila, our bass, in a chariot drawn by slaves; he sits on a throne made of lances and shields (it says here) and praises his army, who praise him right back ("hooray for the king of a thousand forests.")

Some women from vanquished Aquileia are brought in, among whom is our soprano, Odabella (these names are amazing in any language.) It appears that these women are rather butch types who fought to defend their country, and the soprano says that while barbarian women sit in their wagons and weep, Italian women will always be found with steel-girt bosoms on the reeking field of war (Italy, the cutting edge of feminism!) Attila is favorably impressed by all this, and gives Odabella his sword, which causes her to sing about vengeance. Attila on the other hand feels an unwonted tenderness for her stealing over him.

Then the baritone shows up. He is Ezio, the official envoy from Rome and the leader of some Roman legions who fought against the Huns. Attila hopes this baritone has not come to talk of peace (the assumption being that fighting him is so much fun), but this baritone can throw better curves than that. In fact, the first thing he does is offer Attila a deal in which he will help him conquer the world if our bass will let him rule Italy. When Attila shows some moral disapproval of this, our baritone instantly reverts to being the true ambassador of Rome (this baritone's politics are subject to change without notice.) Thereupon the two of them trade threats and part, leaving the audience to its bewilderment.

Next, the shore of the Adriatic lagoons, where a chorus of hermits (there's a contradiction in terms!) greets some refugees from Aquileia. Here we meet our tenor, Foresto, leader of these exiles. He is the lover of the soprano, and sings a little song where he wishes she were dead rather than in the power of the barbarians (atypical tenor, this), and then puts in a good word for the future of his country. This ends the prologue. (Three acts to go, but this opera is well under two hours long, and the plot moves like gangbusters.)

Back at Attila's camp, the soprano is indulging in a little lamentation when our tenor shows up, having made a quick, inexplicable trip back from the Adriatic lagoons and disguised himself as a barbarian. He is pissed off at her for hanging around smiling at Attila, but she shows him her sword and lets on that she intends to repeat the biblical story of Judith and do this bass in. This causes the tenor to throw himself at her feet, and in this awkward position they have a nice little duet about rapture.

Next, Attila's tent, where our bass wakes up from a nightmare. He dreamed about an old man who told him he was appointed as a scourge only against mortals, and that he should back off because this is the territory of the gods. (Presumably this dream is referring to Rome, but no one says anything straight out in this opera even when they’re not talking in their sleep.) Attila is edgy about this dream at first, but it takes more than a little nightmare to discourage this bass from conquest. He is just about to get his Druids, captains and kings back on the warpath, when--the bishop of Rome shows up. This proves to be the same old man Attila had dreamt about, and he repeats the above warning in the same words (and music.) The bass is shook up by this (he is a superstitious barbarian and unacquainted with 19th century musical conventions.) To the tune of a pretty and inappropriate little waltz he has a vision of giants with flaming swords pointed at him. The chorus is stuck being shocked (pagans) and praising the Eternal God(Christians) to the same unlikely music.

Later, in the Roman camp, we discover Ezio, our baritone, in his usual state of political contradiction. There is a truce with the Huns and the emperor has recalled him to Rome. This baritone asks himself whether a valiant warrior like he is must submit to a child-emperor, and says we'll see about that (we never do.) Then he sings about the former glory of Rome until Attila's messengers come and summon him to a meeting with Attila.

After this the tenor turns up and confronts the baritone. This tenor refuses to tell the baritone who he is (perhaps he is ashamed of being named Foresto), but says Attila will die, and that the baritone should send his troops in against the barbarians. Why this valiant baritone should listen to an anonymous tenor when he is unwilling to listen to his emperor I don't know, but Ezio does like this idea (for the moment.) Anyway he spends a cabaletta looking forward to dying heroically in battle so he doesn't have to live and see Rome decay (to each his own.)

Cut to Attila's camp, where the chorus is enjoying a feast of severed heads and limbs despite the fact that the Huns were not cannibals. The baritone comes in, and Attila's Druids warn our bass against dining with a foreigner, again invoking the protection of Odin, a deity the Druids didn't worship either. (What the Asiatic Huns were doing with a Germanic god and a Celtic priesthood I don’t know. Attila's horde is not usually known for religious tolerance.) The baritone again offers to fight with Attila against Rome (he doesn’t want to see Rome decay, but he'd be delighted to conquer it.) But this bass, apparently determined to be the only consistent character in the piece, steadfastly refuses him--at which news Ezio switches sides again and says Attila's star is already setting.

Meanwhile the tenor has planned to poison the bass, with the help of one of Attila's slaves. This slave is from Brittany and is willing to help in order to avenge the servitude of his country, which the Huns did not conquer but the Romans did (maybe he's mistaken the bass for the baritone.) However, the soprano, bloodthirsty creature that she is, wants to skewer the bass with her sword, and therefore warns Attila not to drink the poison. This causes both the bass and the tenor to believe that she is on Attila's side, and the tenor spurns her while the bass offers marriage.

The next day, our tenor is hanging around listening to Attila’s wedding chorus and acting miserable about the betrayal of the soprano. The baritone comes in and claims his warriors are waiting to burst like lightning flashes upon the vile monster (this libretto is even gamier than these things usually are.)

Enter the soprano in mental distress: she has seen the giant, wrathful ghost of her father standing by the bridal couch, so apparently the nuptials are off (one of the reasons this soprano is so vicious is that Attila had killed her father.) She attempts to convince the tenor she is true to him, but he remains in a snit, while the baritone tries to get them to postpone their personal problems until after they've dealt with Attila.

Our bass then enters in quest of the soprano. He sees the three of them together and scents conspiracy, but they all vent their separate griefs in such noisy music that he is kept too busy listening to them to pursue this. Then the soprano stabs Attila while the chorus gloats about vengeance, and this opera comes to a rather sudden end.