#i may have this opera memorized but that doesn't mean i can translate haha

[monotonous-minutia]

It’s here! The ridiculously long (about 9 pages on Word) and totally unnecessary literary analysis of the absolute gayness of one of my favorite operas!

you guessed it: Les contes d’Hoffmann. I spent way too many hours over the past months writing this thing.

I just think of all of this altogether too much so I decided to just write it all down in one place like the lit crit nerd I am.

As I’ve mentioned before, there is a LOT of evidence in Les contes d’Hoffmann that the two main characters (the titular Hoffmann and his friend Nicklausse, aka the Muse) are absolutely an item. To the point where I honestly can’t understand how a director can look at this opera and think “oh that’s not gay” and proceed to stage it as if it’s not. It is SO GAY. I can only imagine that directors who stage this differently are deliberately trying to specifically remove the gay content (e.g., taking out the Violin Aria, messing with edits, doing weird things with the productions that I won’t get into lest I fall into a rant and forget what I’m here to talk about).

For some, the only way to acknowledge that Nicklausse and Hoffmann are an item is it ignore the Nicklausse part and have the Muse be a girl for the entire opera. Because, well, we can maybe admit to the romance, but at least it’s not gay, right?

Well, no.

Often, we get a strange dynamic where productions can’t seem to decide how to mitigate the gayness. Is Nicklausse a girl so there’s no gay with Hoffmann? But what about when he’s flirting with Giulietta (and come on, it’s really hard to stage the Barcarolle, which is basically a love song, without Nicklausse at least vaguely flirting with Giulietta and vice versa, because they’re singing it together). How is that not gay if you insist Nicklausse is a girl? There’s no way to get around it.

No matter how you spin it, it’s gonna be gay. And like I said, if a production tries to insist otherwise, it’s specifically to push back against The Gay. That usually fails miserably for two reasons. One, those productions are garbage, I don’t care who the director is and how fabulous the rest of their work might be. And two, by trying their hardest to get rid of the gay, they are flat-out admitting that it is there. If it wasn’t so blatantly obviously gay, people wouldn’t try so hard to prove that it isn’t.

On another note, it’s pretty obvious that the character of Nicklausse/the Muse is genderfluid. The Muse introduces herself in feminine terms in the Prologue (and Muses are typically associated with femininity), but navigates the majority of the opera identifying as Nicklausse, who’s a man. Ironically productions that try to lessen The Gay get stuck on this because if Nicklausse is definitively a feminine Muse, she’s gonna be gay with Giulietta, in which case the only way to avoid that is to say that isn’t gay because Nicklausse is a man, and, well, whoops, you just admitted the character is genderfluid.

Like I said, there’s no way around it.

I feel like even this super-vague analysis should be enough to convince people. But, because it’s not lit crit if we don’t get all in-depth and nerdy, and because it’s really fun, I’m going to plumb the depths of my research and analysis and share with you this 4,000-word essay proving that yes, indeed, Nicklausse is genderfluid; and yes, indeed, he and Hoffmann are a couple, and a very gay one at that.

Let’s begin.

(Note: the following contains a lot of references to outside sources and I’m just too lazy to properly cite them especially because I just spent the last three years of my life doing that for all my research papers and it sucks. But if anyone is curious and wants to know where specific pieces of information come from, let me know.)

Nicklausse is genderfluid.

This honestly seems like a no-brainer. The dictionary definition of genderfluid is “of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity is not fixed,” so the fact that the character spends part of the opera in a feminine form (the Muse) and part of the opera in a masculine form (Nicklausse) is pretty much the definition of gender-fluid since the character’s gender identity is not fixed. Yeah, maybe the Muse is just in drag for the night, but either way, they’re obviously extremely comfortable in the masculine form so it seems more than likely it’s something they’ve done many times before and are not only okay with but very used to. There’s debate as to how much time, exactly, the Muse spends with Hoffmann as Nicklausse, or even whether Nicklausse is a real person or has been the Muse all along. The solution to this could affect the way the character is or is not defined as genderfluid, but the fact that there is no way to tell what the answer is—because the authors deliberately left that ambiguous—renders it a moot point. We could argue back and forth about that all day and never come to a conclusion because there isn’t one. At the end of the day all we can agree on is that the Muse is acting as Nicklausse the night Hoffmann tells the stories, and likely has done so before.

There is other, non-textual evidence that backs up the concept of Nicklausse as genderfluid. The biggest one is that Barbier and Carré were not strangers to the idea of gender fluidity in their work. About 14 years before Hoffmann premiered, another work from these two hit the stage: Ambroise Thomas’s opera Mignon. The titular character is, for all intents and purposes, genderfluid, presenting as both male and female throughout the course of the opera and seeming comfortable in both roles. Even earlier than that, the two of them translated da Ponte’s libretto for Le nozze di Figaro into French for the Paris Théâtre Lyrique. Anyone who knows this opera knows the multiple levels of gender-bending that occur here and the extremely meta exploration of gender primarily through the portrayal of Cherubino, a boy, who is played by a woman and frequently dresses up as a girl. You can hardly talk about Nozze without acknowledging the genderfluidity it contains. So, before writing the libretto for Hoffmann, Barbier and Carré had worked with at least two other stories dealing with canonical genderfluidity. It’s not much of a stretch, then, to say that they were deliberate in their portrayal of the Muse/Nicklausse as a genderfluid being.

That being settled, on to the next point:

Hoffmann and Nicklausse are a couple.

You wouldn’t think so watching the way most Hoffmanns treat Nicklausse onstage, but there’s a lot of textual evidence that supports this claim. There are multiple facets of Hoffmann and Nicklausse’s relationship that indicate they are, at least in some sense, an item, even if Hoffmann doesn’t always acknowledge it.

We still don’t know if the Nicklausse we see in the tavern has been Nicklausse all along, or if he’s taking on the position of someone who’s actually been hanging out with Hoffmann all this time. That doesn’t necessarily mess up the analysis, though, because: if the Muse has been Nicklausse all along, then all of the evidence in Hoffmann’s stories is true (as “true” as they can be, being a result of Hoffmann’s drunken storytelling) of the person who is sitting next to him in the tavern right now. If, however, the real Nicklausse is absent, Hoffmann is still admitting the extent of the relationship to the Muse/Nicklausse who’s in the tavern tonight. We know this because Hoffmann is presumably making these stories up since it’s revealed at the end all these “loves” are manifestations of the real-life Stella. In which case, it is Hoffmann who is describing all of these things about Nicklausse that indicate they are in a relationship, consciously or unconsciously admitting that they are an item. Since the Nicklausse who is sitting with him during the storytelling is also the Muse, it’s not really a stretch to assume Hoffmann is talking about them during the telling, even if there is a “real” Nicklausse who’s absent tonight, because Hoffmann is taking details from things in the immediate vicinity to tell these stories tonight.

Now on to some more specific details:

They are a packaged deal. Before Hoffmann enters the tavern, Luther announces his arrival, adding that Nicklausse is with him (“Messieurs, il ouvre la porte,/Et Niklausse est avec lui!”). No one questions this or asks who Nicklausse is. They are all used to the idea of Nicklausse coming along with Hoffmann, so it clearly happens on a regular basis.

It’s also clear that Hoffmann is much closer to Nicklausse than he is to anyone else in the tavern. And that’s probably saying something, as it’s clear the friends at the tavern know a lot about him: they are familiar with his many different stories; they look forward to seeing him and hearing his tales; they know he enjoys singing, and convince him to do so to cheer him up; they tease him; they ask him personal questions; and they know his schedule well enough to notice when he’s late coming to the tavern. So, Hoffmann clearly has a lot of people here who know and care about him—but none nearly to the extent that Nicklausse does, as we will see. That indicates his relationship with Nicklausse is much more intimate.

Here are some examples:

When Hoffmann and Lindorf are facing off in their insult duet, before they can get too far, Nicklausse intervenes with a metaphor about shepherds and their girlfriends, distracting them before they come to blows. The others in the tavern join in, but no one else was motivated to stop the fight. Nicklausse was the only one who cared enough to break it up.

When describing his role in the stories that are to come, Hoffmann says Nicklausse takes the prize for common sense; he thinks highly of Nicklausse’s perceptions and opinions, even if he doesn’t always show it.

HOFFMANN Tu m'auras sans doute compris, O toi qui dans ce drame où mon cœur se consume Du bon sens emportas le prix!

At the beginning of Act I (Olympia), Nicklausse makes several statements that indicate he knows Hoffmann extremely well. Upon his entry, he exclaims “J'étais bien sûr de te trouver ici!” (“I knew I would find you here!”) He is familiar with Hoffmann’s usual haunts and knows exactly where to look for him. Further, he already knows about Olympia; when Hoffmann shushes him after his entrance, Nicklausse asks, “C'est là que respire la belle Olympia?” (“Is there where the beautiful Olympia is?”) He teases Hoffmann about being in love with her, so Hoffmann has obviously told Nicklausse all about her. Given no one else in the tavern knew anything about Hoffmann’s love life, we can assume he only talks about things like this to people he’s particularly close to.

Further, when Nicklausse is trying to get Hoffmann to reach out to Olympia before proclaiming his undying love, we have this exchange:

NICKLAUSSE Alors, chante, morbleu! pour sortir d'un tel pas! (Then sing to her, for heaven’s sake, if there is no alternative!) HOFFMANN Monsieur Spalanzani n'aime pas la musique. (Mr. Spalanzani doesn’t like music.) NICKLAUSSE Oui, je sais! Tout pour la physique! ... (Yes, I know! Science is everything!)

So not only had Hoffmann told Nicklausse about Olympia, he has also told him about Spalanzani’s obsession with science and aversion to music. Which means Hoffmann very likely talks to Nicklausse a lot about his studies and his intention to pursue a science education.

Out of all the names and titles Hoffmann is given in the tavern—poet, writer, artist, drunk—no one mentions the fact that he is a student. It might be because the group consists almost entirely of students, so it’s a given; but it might also be that, in addition to not discussing his love life with his friends, he also does not talk to them about his studies. Once again, this indicates that he is much closer to Nicklausse than anyone else in the tavern.

Nicklausse also knows the best ways to interact with Hoffmann. After Nicklausse sings his song and Hoffmann brushes him off, Coppélius enters and tries to get Hoffmann’s attention. However, Hoffmann does not respond, to which Nicklausse replies “Voilà le seul moyen d'être entendu!” (“There is only one way to be heard/get his attention”). Then we get the stage direction “il frappe doucement, puis plus fort sur l'épaule d'Hoffmann” (“he hits softly, then harder on Hoffmann's shoulder”). It works; Hoffmann turns and asks him what he needs. This is a very particular way to get someone’s attention. The fact that Nicklausse knows it means he gets Hoffmann’s attention a lot, and knows him well enough to understand the ways in which Hoffmann needs people to interact with him. This once again indicates a more intimate relationship, as no one else in the opera expresses having this kind of knowledge.

In less specific examples, Nicklausse spends a great deal of this act teasing Hoffmann about his love for Olympia. However, Hoffmann doesn’t seem annoyed or put off by his behavior. He goes to Nicklausse repeatedly to make sure he stays involved in the action. He’s used to Nicklausse’s banter, but it doesn’t annoy him enough to keep him away. He’s too attached to him to let the teasing get to his head.

Though Nicklausse does leave with the other guests so Hoffmann can be alone with Olympia, he returns much sooner than any of the others, looking for Hoffmann and asking “Veux-tu qu'on se grise sans toi?” (“Do you want us to get drunk without you?”) Apparently the party isn’t nearly as fun as it would be if Hoffmann were there with him. He misses Hoffmann and wants him to come join him. Then, he tries to warn Hoffmann that Olympia isn’t what she seems, and that he should be careful. When Hoffmann doesn’t respond to that, Nicklausse suggests he come to the ball and dance with Olympia—anything to get him to come to the party.

When Hoffmann does begin to dance with Olympia, she goes out of control. Nicklausse intervenes, afraid for Hoffmann’s life; in the process he gets knocked over himself, but continues to focus on Hoffmann’s well-being (while no one bothers to check in with Nicklausse). (This is rarely staged but it’s in every version of the libretto I’ve read.)

Finally, when everyone else is laughing at Hoffmann for falling in love with a robot, Nicklausse goes to him and tries to comfort him among the madness.

In Act II (Antonia), we obviously get the Violin Aria, which I wrote a really long thing about earlier. In short, it is clearly a love song, and since he’s singing it to Hoffmann, what’s really left to be said? That alone should be enough to convince folks that there are romantic implications (to say the least) between Nicklausse and Hoffmann. I’m at a loss as to how anyone could come up with any other reason Nicklausse would sing that song. “Love victorious”? “Poet, give your heart”? What else could he possibly be talking about?

Unlike almost every other number in the opera, the Violin Aria has no precedent in the play. It’s only here now because we have the Muse doubling as Nicklausse, singing a love song to Hoffmann. Though he spends a great deal of the opera discouraging Hoffmann from pursuing the objects of his affections, he’s not against the idea of Hoffmann being in love. He’s against the idea of Hoffmann being in love with anyone who isn’t him.

Of course, this song is sometimes (often) cut. There’s more evidence that it’s supposed to be there than evidence against, though (according to a bunch of people’s research), so edits that exclude it are probably trying to lessen The Gay as much as they can. I don’t see any other reason for taking it out.

In addition to that, though, in the dialogue version of the libretto, Nicklausse gets a paragraph or so describing just how long (six months) and hard they have been looking for Antonia. You’d have to be pretty devoted to someone to follow them around for six months helping them look for the supposed love of their life. And on Hoffmann’s end, you’d have to like someone quite a bit to have them around you nonstop for six months, and feel extremely close to them to be able to expect that kind of devotion from them.

In addition, Nicklausse once again risks his own safety in order to save Hoffmann (though this is also rarely staged). When Crespel goes after Hoffmann with a knife at the end of this act, Nicklausse literally throws himself between Hoffmann and the knife. Y’all, if that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.

Act III (Giulietta) is much more complicated because there are just so many versions of it. Of course there’s Kaye’s edit which is heralded by many is definitive and I’ll admit his research seems pretty sound so I’ll allow that to stand (because obviously I have the authority to have any kind of say in the matter). However there are several things from previous edits that Kaye takes out that also contribute to this discussion, so I’ll be referring to them as well.

First off, we get this line here which I’ve seen exactly once out of (n) productions:

GIULIETTA (se tournant vers Nicklausse) Et son ami! Pardon, Pylade or Pollux?

Giulietta is introducing Hoffmann to her company, and of course wherever Hoffmann goes, Nicklausse is as well, and since they’re a packaged deal, Giulietta introduces him as well, immediately after. And not only that, it’s precisely what she calls him that really drives the point home.

“Forgive me, was it Pylades or Pollux?”

I wrote a thing about this too. Here I’ll say:

Pollux refers to Castor and Pollux, who are typically used as a symbol of platonic affection between men, since they’re half-brothers. However, Pylades and Orestes are a different story. As I mentioned in the other post, if you’re familiar with Greek mythology discourse, you’ll know that most people agree there’s more to the relationship between Orestes and Pylades than a little bromance. So Giulietta is clearly suggesting something here when she refers to Nicklausse in these terms. It’s almost like she’s asking the question: “Are you two bros or are you romantically involved?” The fact that neither Hoffmann nor Nicklausse attempt to address that point seems significant to me. Nicklausse simply introduces himself, neither confirming nor denying the implications Giulietta is making about his relationship with Hoffmann. Nor does Hoffmann make a comment. If they didn’t want people thinking of them as a couple, one of them would have probably spoken up, but neither do.

In some Oeser-based edits we get an extended gambling scene, during which Giulietta serenades the guests, Hoffmann is distracted by her, Dapertutto gets some side dialogue, Schlémil acts shady, Pitichinaccio has some fun, the chorus gets philosophical, and Nicklausse tries to convince Hoffmann not to gamble away all their money. (Even if the extended scene isn’t included, Nicklausse gets a line to this effect in many versions of the libretto.)

Their money. Throughout, Nicklausse isn’t just worried about Hoffmann throwing away his own life savings. He’s worried because, despite the fact that he himself is not involved in the game (until Hoffmann makes him take his cards so he can go be with Giulietta), Nicklausse’s funds are at stake here too. I don’t know all the historical intricacies of finance at the time, but it sounds to me like the equivalent of these two having a joint bank account. You don’t share a joint bank account with just anyone. If Nicklausse and Hoffmann’s funds are collective to the point that Hoffmann losing money means Nicklausse is losing money too, the two of them are clearly financially dependent on each other, and if that doesn’t scream domesticity, I don’t know what does. I almost feel like the entire argument could ride on this alone.

The rest of the act is all over the place in terms of the order of events and even if some or others happen at all. The one most of us are probably used to honestly doesn’t have much Nicklausse material after the Barcarolle and his spat with Hoffmann, but others have more—like the conversation with Giulietta and the gambling scene described above. One of the most significant, which is based on a similar scene from the original play, concerns Nicklausse trying to get Hoffmann to leave with him, begging him to leave Giulietta behind, telling him this place is sketchy AF and they should leave before someone tries to steal their souls (which, incidentally, is pretty much exactly what happens). Eventually he gives up and goes to find a means of transportation (usually horses) and someone to help him physically remove Hoffmann so they can finally get out of there. After that, we only see him when he returns after Hoffmann gets his reflection taken; sometimes he doesn’t say much, sometimes he laments their fate, sometimes he finally does get around to dragging Hoffmann away once Hoffmann finally gives up, rescuing him yet again as they escape just before the police come looking for Schlémil’s murderer.

An interesting side note: In one performance I saw, Nicklausse tries to go after Hoffmann when Hoffmann goes with Giulietta, but is held back by Pitichinaccio (who then attempts to give him a poisoned drink, similar to an event in the original play). I also found a libretto and an album where a similar event occurs, except it’s Dapertutto who pulls Nicklausse away and makes him go back to the room where everyone else is still playing cards. In both cases he was able to return to Hoffmann right after Giulietta steals Hoffmann’s reflection. This bit isn’t included in any of the critical editions as far as I can tell, but it’s an interesting event, Nicklausse trying to go after Hoffmann to protect him (yet again) but being prevented by one of the villains. And, because Nicklausse isn’t there to help him, Hoffmann does get hurt this time (Giulietta steals his reflection). The one time Nicklausse is prevented from helping Hoffmann, Hoffmann winds up in a whole lot of trouble.

The epilogue is pretty self-explanatory, I feel.  Nicklausse doesn’t get too many lines, but his altercation with Hoffmann is pretty significant. Nicklausse makes the connection between the three ladies in his stories and the real-life Stella, joking that they should make a toast to the lady. Hoffmann yells at him, basically telling him “shut up or I’ll slap you” (and in some productions I’ve seen, he actually does get slapped). Nicklausse is definitely offended by this.

NICKLAUSSE se levant Ah! je comprends! trois drames dans un drame Olympia ... Antonia ... Giulietta ... Ne sont qu'une même femme: La Stella! LE CHŒUR La Stella! NICKLAUSSE Buvons à cette honnête dame! HOFFMANN furieux, brisant son verre Un mot de plus et sur mon âme Je te brise comme ceci! ...

NICKLAUSSE Moi, ton mentor? Merci! ...

This isn’t the kind of fight you have with an acquaintance. Banter like this, that borders on threats and insults, typically happen between people who are very close and have a lot of history. Nicklausse is trying to draw attention to Hoffmann’s failed loves, comparing them to Stella, to point out how futile it is for him to continue to pursue this siren. It’s about time Hoffmann notices him. Hoffmann, on the other hand, is furious at Nicklausse for revealing the fallacy in his tales. Saying “I’ll break you” is a pretty savage way to respond; Hoffmann feels betrayed by Nicklausse. He’s also pretty drunk. Either way, it’s clear his reaction stems from the closeness he feels with Nicklausse; upset that his “mentor” and confidante would reveal him like that.

After this, Nicklausse usually ducks away, though some edits give him the line “Il faut se décider!” (“You need to decide!”) as Stella enters. He’s giving Hoffmann the final choice, the one he delineated in the Prologue:

Il faut en cette heure fatale qu'il choisisse entre nos amours, qu'il appartienne à ma rivale ou qu'il soit à moi pour toujours!

(In this fatal hour he must choose between our loves; he will belong to my rival or be mine forever!)

Hoffmann is too drunk to recognize Stella, and she leaves him to go with Lindorf. The students leave as well, and Hoffmann is alone—until Nicklausse returns (or maybe he never left, depending on how it’s staged), revealing their identity as the Muse. Again, it’s unclear if they were Nicklausse all along, or just borrowing the identity for the night. Either way, the character that we’ve spent the last two and a half hours with (or longer depending on the edit)—the one who, as the last six pages will attest, is almost definitely Hoffmann’s boyfriend—is here declaring their love for Hoffmann. In some versions they literally say “I love you!”

Je t'aime, Hoffmann: confie-toi à moi! fie-toi à moi!

(Interestingly, when this line is included, it is spoken under the name “Nicklausse,” before their transformation back into the Muse. To me, that’s a decent indicator that Nicklausse has been the Muse all along, even before the events of tonight.)

We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next, and what precisely we assume will happen once again depends on the Muse’s status as the actual Nicklausse in Hoffmann’s life or imagining. I haven’t seen any two productions (save revivals of the same production) that stage the ending in the exact same way. There’s a lot of ways to interpret it.

But after all this, I’d venture it’s pretty safe to say the ones where Hoffmann and the Muse get together at the end are accurate.