Composer Marvin David Levy, who died last Monday at the age of 82, showed immense promise as a contributor to the operatic repertoire during his formative years, but fell victim to musical trends of the time. His final and most famous opera, Mourning Becomes Electra, has long been marked as both the turning point and the allegory of his career. His life and works leave a bitter taste in the operatic world as a reminder that high art is not above societal trends and pressures.
Born on August 2nd, 1932 in Passaic, NJ, the promising young Mr. Levy studied piano, taking lessons at the Juilliard School. He pursued further musical studies at New York University and Columbia University, studying with Philip James and Otto Luening respectively. Amongst other works, he wrote three one-act operas: The Tower, Escorial, and Mourning Becomes Electra. His final opera was commissioned by The Metropolitan Opera to celebrate the opening of its current Lincoln Center location in 1966.
The opera received rather dismal reviews. Mr. Levy had previously been praised for his lyrical style, and was held to the standard of other English-language greats, such as Samuel Barber and Benjamin Britten. Yet Electra was accused of succumbing to the pressures of the latest classical trend, atonalism, and unsuccessfully so.
Based on Eugene O’Neill’s play cycle by the same name, this story of a multi-generational family curse came to curse Levy’s compositional career. After a brief American and European run, the work disappeared from the repertoire for over 30 years. Then it experienced a handful of revivals between 1998 and 2013, all with numerous edits by the composer. These revivals were each received more favorably than the premiere, but none earned the work any serious acclaim.
Mr. Levy experienced a series of personal downfalls after the ill-fated premiere of his last opera. His motivation to compose declined and he became involved in a drug ring in the 1970’s. He was sentenced to jail for the mishap and was incarcerated until 1984. If ever there was a silver lining, his sentence revived his passion for writing music, and he began composing again in his jail cell. Still, none of these later works entered the repertoire like his earlier compositions. Instead, he was primarily recognized as the artistic director of Fort Lauderdale Opera in his later life. He resided in Fort Lauderdale from the late 1980’s until his recent death.
All careers have ups and downs, and artistic careers certainly are not immune to the realities of life. Yet Mr. Levy’s career is a disturbing reminder of how all music, be it classical, pop, or otherwise, is not above fads and trends. Feeling the need to succumb to the atonal vogue, Mr. Levy denied the truth in his own musical style, leading to the demise of his compositional calling. This is not to say that opera should not be pliable; on the contrary, musicians need room to make fresh discoveries in order for the genre to remain as magical and fulfilling as operatic visionaries of the past, such as Mozart and Wagner.
Is this really a concern for opera today? Certainly. Opera houses struggle to make ends meet, yet still yield to pressures of mass appeal instead of focusing on the heart of it all: the music. Most, if not all, of the truly successful artists in the field became so due to their constant dedication to the art. The only adjustments they make are to the marketing of their craft, rather than to the craft itself. If opera houses focus on anything other than the art, it will become commonplace and bland, not the deep expression of the soul that draws its listeners in.
If the opera world memorializes Marvin David Levy in only one way at the time of his death, let it be a cautionary tale. If the field does not stay true to itself, it will fall out of the cultural repertoire, and the world will lose a bit of beauty with it. In an art filled with tales of tragedy and woe, losing of the operatic spirit would become the ultimate tragedy.