"D'Oreste, d'Aiace" from Idomeneo (Act III, the tale of Ilia and Idamante, King of Crete) stands as one of Mozart’s most profound dramatic achievements. In this aria, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart transcends mere composition and enters the realm of psychological portraiture, capturing Elettra’s descent into madness with music that burns with jealousy, despair, and divine tragedy. It is not only a testament to his technical mastery, but to his unparalleled ability to turn myth and human emotion into sound that lingers far beyond the stage.
Role in "Idomeneo": In Mozart's opera, Orestes is frequently invoked by Elettra (Electra). Elettra is the daughter of Agamemnon and the sister of Orestes. She flees to Crete after the tragic events in Argos (the murder of Clytemnestra by Orestes).
- Elettra’s Madness: In Act III, when Elettra witnesses Idamante (whom she loves) united with Ilia (her rival), she is seized by overwhelming rage, jealousy, and despair. In her famous aria, "D'Oreste, d'Aiace" ("Of Orestes, of Ajax"), Elettra calls upon the name of her brother, Orestes, and also Ajax (another mythological figure who suffered madness). She feels, and even identifies herself with, the madness and curse that befell Orestes for his crime. She longs for the Furies to pursue her as well, or for Orestes' madness to consume her.
- This moment is her ultimate expression of madness, searing jealousy, and the painful realization that she has lost both love and happiness. Through the reference to Orestes, Mozart paints a vivid portrait of Elettra’s deeply disturbed and tragic mental state.
"D'Oreste" in the context of Idomeneo, Act III does not refer to the physical presence of Orestes, but rather to Elettra’s expression of madness and suffering as she associates herself with the tragic fate of her brother Orestes, who was relentlessly pursued by the Furies.
And so I must confess: the second time I witnessed Idomeneo, I did not fall asleep. Perhaps a small personal triumph. Yet it was my wife who truly savored every note, every tragic chord, as if Mozart had composed it just for her ears. I merely followed the music; she lived inside it. 😬
Perhaps that is why she loved Idomeneo while I leaned toward Pachelbel’s Canon: she sought the storm, I sought the symmetry.
Confession: it took me more than one listening to untangle Agamemnon’s shadow from Idamante’s love story. For a while, the music felt like one long, beautiful thread woven in the same color. Perhaps that is also its secret — the madness of Elettra rising not from contrast, but from a sea of sameness.
Full disclosure: my wife reminded me that during our first Idomeneo, I barely knew who Orestes was. This Codex, like my understanding, grew with time.
Side note: Centuries later, beyond the opera house, Elettra’s cry still echoes. The symphonic metal band Aesma Daeva reshaped "D’Oreste" into a dark, orchestral storm, proving that Mozart’s madness transcends genre. The Furies still chase her—only now with distorted guitars.
Perhaps that is why Aesma Daeva’s version resonated with me more instantly. The gothic metal frame gave Elettra’s madness a pulse I could follow, while my wife still heard the raw human cry of Mozart beneath it. The same fire, refracted through different glass
When I asked my wife how she could understand *Idomeneo* despite the language barrier, she smiled: “Mozart’s *Idomeneo* isn’t about words, it’s for the brain — dynamic, stimulating. Pay attention to the progression, the bridge…”
Curious, I threw in: “What about ELO?”
She laughed: “ELO? Lovely, light… that’s like comparing Chardonnay & Viognier to soju.”
I just stared, wondering what strange and beautiful world of taste and sound she was living in.
Perhaps that is our duet: a pharmacist and an engineer, hearing the same music through different instruments of thought. For her, every chord is chemistry; for me, every progression is architecture. Two worlds, meeting in Mozart.