John Adams’ The Death of Klinghoffer is, I believe, his strongest opera. It was controversial when first performed in 1991, but has been produced several times since without much fuss, including at Opera Theatre of St. Louis in 2011. Opera Theatre went to great pains to contextualize the opera–which dramatizes the hijacking of the Italian cruise ship, the Achille Lauro, and the murder of an elderly and disabled Jewish passenger, Leon Klinghoffer–when they staged it three years ago, including working with the local Holocaust Museum and other community partners. Now the Metropolitan Opera is preparing to stage it in October, and it seems we’re right back where we started. Critics, some legitimately worried about whether the opera will inflame anti-Semitism, others simply irresponsible and vicious, have been hammering the Met for weeks now.
Anti-Semitism is rising in Europe, and there have been horrible incidents, including murders in Belgium directly attributable to the resurgence of this abominable bigotry. Over the weekend, I spoke with a French journalist who is Jewish, who recounted anti-Semitic thugs outside a synagogue in her neighborhood chanting the most terrifying filth and threats. It is appalling to think that odious figures like Dieudonné are gaining an audience, and mainstream sympathy, and that the National Front is seriously in political contention. Americans shouldn’t take any of this lightly.
But Adams’ opera isn’t anti-Semitic. Nor is it anti-Israel. In an Opera News piece recently posted online, I make a case for it being a complex work of art about anger, and about how we must learn to be distracted from our anger, or we will become lost in it and to it. Adams and his librettist Alice Goodman accomplished something extraordinary in Klinghoffer that has absolutely withstood the test of time and is, for obvious reasons, needed more now than ever.
It isn’t worth arguing with people like Andrea Peyser, who defamed the work in The New York Post. She quotes lyrics out of context, seemingly unaware that in drama bad people will say bad things. This doesn’t mean the composer or librettist endorses those sentiments. It’s silly beyond measure to think so, and silly of course to argue with any who makes that mistake. But her piece does violence to art, a willful, ignorant sort of violence. There are far worse forms of violence to be sure. But watching someone tear something apart and hold up the pieces to scorn… well, that’s ugly. And the world has had a surfeit of ugliness.
Yes, the opera is also about ugliness. But it offers a way out.