As the BBC’s addictive series The Traitors comes to its tense gasp-inducing denouement, we thought it would be interesting to look at some classic operatic traitors. Opera thrives on heightened emotions, dramatic conversions, and characters who would, frankly, make terrible friends. Often, at the heart of all this drama are the traitors - those scheming, backstabbing, deceitful and unfaithful figures who create chaos and, in doing so, propel the story toward its inevitable tragic ending and heartbreak. Among them, one name reigns supreme: Iago from Verdi’s Otello, based on Shakespeare’s Othello.
Iago isn’t just a traitor; he’s the CEO of treachery, driven by irrational jealousy and evil, he lives to lie and manipulate, with cruelty and malevolence. His aria Credo in un Dio crudel (I believe in a cruel God) is less a confession and more a manifesto of villainy. He thrives on destruction, pulling strings with precision to unravel Otello’s mind, through a blend of cunning psychological warfare and sinister charisma that leaves audiences mesmerised and horrified. Iago is the Top Trumps Opera Traitor in his betrayal and treachery.
By contrast, we have the comical schemer Don Basilio from Rossini’s The Barber of Seville. Where Iago’s treachery is dripping with malice, Basilio’s is less evil. In his aria La calunnia è un venticello he gleefully explains how a well-placed rumour can topple reputations. Unlike Iago, Basilio’s betrayals come with a wink and a nudge, leaving you laughing rather than cringing. He’s the pot-stirring uncle at every family gathering - annoying, but not entirely malicious.
Then there’s Scarpia from Puccini’s Tosca, a character so vile and perfidious that he has become the ultimate operatic Baddie. Scarpia’s betrayal isn’t subtle; he’s a wolf in wolf’s clothing, openly manipulating Tosca and her lover Cavaradossi with coercion, cruelty, and the occasional sneer, bordering on pleasure at his power. His actions lead to one of opera’s most satisfyingly deserved death - when Tosca stabs him to a soaring musical climax. Scarpia is treachery with a capital T, serving as a reminder that opera really does do terrific villains.
But not all operatic traitors are villains by nature. Take Amneris from Verdi’s Aida. Her betrayal of Aida and Radamès is driven not by cruelty but by unrequited love. Amneris’s jealousy blinds her, and her actions lead to devastating consequences for the people she claims to care about. Unlike Iago or Scarpia, her treachery feels deeply human - fuelled by feelings we could all experience, though perhaps on a less operatic scale.
Count Almaviva in Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro is certainly not a ‘Faithful’. Although not an evil traitor, he is arrogant, entitled and authoritarian and sees no wrong at first in betraying his wife and being unfaithful. He does eventually - after some clever manoeuvres by his servant Figaro, the Countess and her maid Susanna - see the damage of his indiscretions.
From Iago’s masterclass in villainy to the Count’s infidelity, opera’s traitors come in all shapes and styles. Whether tragic, comedic, or downright terrifying, they’re the lifeblood of the drama, ensuring there’s never a dull moment in an opera. So, here’s to the traitors - operatic chaos-makers who ensure the drama hits all the high notes.
To see all the witty ploys and entanglements in the classic period-set production of WNO’s The Marriage of Figaro in this Season’s tour.
