The story centres around Orfeus (Orfeo in Italian), son of Apollo and possessed of a magical gift of music, losing his wife Eurydice when she is bitten by a snake and dies, and his journey into the Underworld in an attempt to save her. Pluto's wife is moved by Orfeo's laments and convinces her husband to let Eurydice go; he consents, but in classic Greek style adds a stupid condition: if Orfeo looks back at his wife on the journey back to the surface, he'll lose her forever. Which of course he does.
The original Greek story then featured lots of angry Humanists arriving and tearing Orfeo apart, and in some versions, eating him. Monteverdi's first draft of the opera had a similar ending, but it was scrapped after the first-night audience decided they didn't like it very much, and the version eventually featured in the first publication features Orfeo's dad coming down out of the clouds in a very literal deus ex machina, and making everything all right again.
The orchestra for L'Orfeo features loads of lovely period instruments like baroque violins, viols, little old trumpets and trombones, a theorbo, some big crazy drums, recorders, and even a couple of gemshorns for when they go down to the underworld (because, apparently, brass represents the underworld. Who knew?). Before the main event begins, the little orchestra have a sort-of-overture, called a toccata despite being nothing to do with keyboard toccatas, which is more or less an extended fanfare. Then there's a Prologue, which stars La Musica and her signature tune, or ritornello, which is played between each verse of her song talking about how great music is and introducing the story in a vague way.
The first act of the opera is completely concerned with telling the audience just how happy Orfeo is, and how happy the entire world is as a result. This mainly involves lots of shepherds singing and lots of nymphs dancing delightedly while Orfeo and Eurydice stand around looking blissful and occasionally singing to one another. Monteverdi really doesn't skimp on the sense of overwhelming joy in this act, and it gets even more stifling at the beginning of the second act, when Orfeo goes out to the fields of Thrace and watches nymph dances while singing about how he's the happiest man in the world.
Inevitably, this state of ecstasy is interrupted by Sylvia, the Messenger, who has some pretty sudden news: Eurydice has been bitten by a snake and is dead. The mood changes drastically very quickly, and Orfeo sings a heartfelt lament for his wife entitled "You are dead" (it has more of a ring to it in the original Italian) and vows to go to the underworld to save her. The shepherds chime in as well with their refrain, "What a bitter blow!"
So down he goes, guided by Speranza, the personification of Hope; but in a shout-out to Dante, she has to leave him at the gates. Orfeo then encounters Charon, the oarsman of the river Styx, who he lulls to sleep with his singing and steals his boat.
His singing profoundly affects Proserpina, Pluto's wife (who, incidentally, was probably played by the same man - yes, man - as Sylvia and Speranza in the original production), and Eurydice is released under the stupid conditions described above. Orfeo starts to doubt the honesty of the Lord of Hell on his way back, for some reason, and turns around to check his wife really is there. This is a big mistake.
The fifth act is short and really quite silly. Orfeo is sad for a while, then Apollo comes down on a cloud in what is admittedly one of the coolest effects in the show, tells him everything will be all right in heaven in what is almost certainly a bit of counter-reformation propaganda, and Orfeo hops on the cloud and rises gently up out of sight. And that's the end of it.
I'm not an opera aficionado by any means, and a lot of the significance and innovation of L'Orfeo is lost on me. However, it was a big deal at the time - a Mantuan aristocrat wrote before the premiere that it was bound to be interesting and unusual because all the actors were to sing their parts. This they certainly do, and do it well; Monteverdi had come from a background of writing extremely popular madrigals (songs for multiple voices) and knew what went into a good tune. The music is very intelligent, with specific characters even being assigned their own keys - Eurydice sings in D major, and Orfeo sings almost exclusively in G minor, except when he sings about his wife, when he briefly adopts her key.
The story does drag at times, and the ending is a bit ridiculous, but in spite of its failings L'Orfeo remains an enjoyable show four hundred and two years after its first performance - even if the counter-reformation messages are somewhat lost on a modern audience!
