K. 51, La Finta Semplice, Cosa ha mai la donna indosso

I've heard it from a movie, Ghost of Girlfriends Past, (not recommending the movie) "the power in all relationships lies with whoever cares less." Now, power shmower. I'm not out to say the deep down all people want dominance over every relationship, but I do believe they want to be taken seriously. They want their voices respected. Their opinions heard. Their passions shared. Sometimes I wonder if it is difficult to be taken seriously, when a person cares more.  It is often the exuberant and excitably passionate individuals have a hard time being taken seriously. They care for the cause, but lack power to rally others behind them.

"But, isn't it passionate people who change the world and achieve success?" Some may ask. Yes and no. There are a whole mess of terms one has to define first. But, I won't dabble too much into that. No matter what someone says, everyone is passionate about something (even if it is the desire to be left alone). But, the world does not take those goofy excitable individuals seriously. That's not to say they don't like them, or even that they do not have awe, just there's a lack of... umm... respect.

Mozart was that kind of person. Yes. His culture appreciated his music, but did not take him seriously as a musical authority. This was likely all the worse when he was 12. Sure, everyone gets a kick out of watching a passionate little kid with talent. But, put that bossy mongrel in charge of adults... Who'd take him seriously? Regardless of his talent. This is the time La Finta Semplice was birthed. They, as Salieri's father suggests in the movie Amadeus, likely saw him as a trained monkey. Sure, everyone loves a trained monkey, but do they take them seriously as a positional authority?

And, what causes this 'trained monkey' impression? Oblivious passion. So, where I had said before that it takes a passionate person to gain a following, more often than not, it is focused passionate individuals. A focused passionate person calculates, considers, (and the yucky word people like me hate) plans. He or she reels in skills outside his or her passion in order to accomplish the passion. The obliviously passionate throw themselves headlong into a pursuit, ignoring everything else. They have a hard time considering others' opinions. Don't take criticism well.  That's not to say such a person never does great things, if fact they often do, but the journey is harder. And they have to be either immensely talented, or lucky. And, many with that mentality wear themselves into a depressed funk.

Now, add this personality trait into the realm of love and relationships. (A good study when I get into Mozart's relationship adventures of the Kochel.) A man falls in love with a woman. The obliviously passionate man throws himself at her. How does that usually work out? Do women respect such a man? If not, how does a boy get the girl? That's a mess of stuff I can't answer, because really there is no science to it. Thank God I'm married, that's about all I have to say about that. This brings me to Cosa ha mai donna indosso. Polidoro, one of the men the semplice is to charm, speaks of his passion for women. "Why do I love them so?" "Any man should be cursed if he doesn't appreciate his wife." Isn't this the kind of passion a woman would what? (I am asking, because I don't know the answer.) Yet, he is portrayed as the fool.

The music of the aria is that of yearning. Unfulfilled yearning. It is only fitting that the movie Amadeus uses the term 'unfulfilled longing' to describe Mozart's music. Some say the scene is the best description of music. Possibly why I'm drawn to it, Mozart's music brilliantly captures unfulfilled passions.

And of course, at the end of the opera, Polidoro doesn't get the girl. The brooding 'I'm not going to let a woman get to me' figure does. (That doesn't sound at all familiar in romance). Then, Polidoro turns bitter.

Once growing tired of not being able to share his or her passions, such person pulls his or her desires in. Hides them. Morphs into a bitter outsider. Or, sinks into despair.  It is not that individuals lose their passions, just the desire to share them. To be fair, I must say this is not always the fault of the world. I wonder if, for some, no amount of passion praise will ever be enough. Now, if such a person can coerce others to share their passions, either via guilt or force, can such praise ever truly satisfy? Sure, one could be like the Sultan in Zaide, and force a lover to stick around, but what would that do? Or, a powerful and rich man could force groups to accept him as an 'artist', but... Deep down, we want others to want to love what we're passionate about. And, sometimes they're not. What? Are they supposed to change who they are, in order to accept who we are?

I don't know. Often the sissy inside me gets whiny when people don't like what I want them to like. Or, when I think they're only pretending to like what I want them to like.

K. 51, La Finta Semplice, Ella vuole ed io torrei

Back in my 4-H days, we'd have horse practice three days a week. I hated going to practice and on a particularly rushed day, my mom was harping on me to get my horse caught. I think this was Chiam (Kai-am). I can never remember which one I used which year. His advantage over other horses, he was easy to catch. In addition, it was a hot day. Horses aren't anxious to move on a hot day. So, I walked up beside him with sloppy, careless, yet confident steps. He started walking away. I followed. He walked faster. I trotted along side. He took off. He had never taken off. I ran. With a burst of gas and a flung rear hoof, he kicked me in the upper thigh. 

I collapsed in pain. Screaming. Yelling. I lay in the hardened hoof-hacked dirt. Grinding my teeth, pissed off at that horse. Chiam stopped, turned, a wondered back over toward me. He lowered his bobbing head, his eyes carrying apologies. I didn't care. Grabbing a clod of mud, I chucked it at his face. He spooked and ran off. Worst of all, my parents still made me go to horse practice, with Chiam and the hoof-shaped bruise he left on my thigh. (I don't bruise easy.)

And this bring me to Cassandro, the woman-hating rich gentleman, whom Rosina is trying to make fall in love with her. She works her 'pretend simpleton' magic on him, softening him up: until she asked for a ring (of course for all this to happen in one night breaks a bit of time constraint logic). Here's where he breaks into the aria Ella vuole ed io torrei. Something must have happened. Something made him bitter and jaded. The music starts of noble,"I won't" then intensifies with a mix of fear and anger. After the first huff, it sighs as he says, "Once she gets my ring, her love will be done." Following the breather, it gets more intense. With the music, young Mozart nicely flecks out the confused emotions of a once beaten dog, wanting the meat, yet seeing a lofted stick. (The simile is at the end of the aria.)

I would venture to say, La Finta Semplice was Mozart's first occupational kick to the thigh. I could imagine a youth, who'd received nearly nothing but praise, going into this project with lofty hopes, and even arrogant assumptions. Even, if he was correct in his assumptions, I doubt divas and royalty would have taken too kindly to such boldness. They didn't. And, I don't think they even gave him a fair chance. Leopold was no help, either. And, the Mozart's felt that hoof strike. Leopold grabbed his own clod of mud, trying to put a hurtin' on those who refused to pay for the opera. He took the lot to court. In the end, the Mozart looked the fools, and lost their loot. Their looking like fools likely stole away the archbishop's patience for their having been gone much longer than planned.

Consequently (I'm not sure what Mozart learned), Leopold grew shrewder. He lost trust and when he ventured to Italy, he made sure to get payment in advanced. I can't help but wonder if he lost a hint of trust in Mozart? A burrowing mistrust in Mozart social capabilities, that created a need in Leopold to do everything for his son, instead of teaching him to take care of himself.