Page Two: Walküre • Siegfried • Götterdämmerung
Jump to Page One: Prelude • Rheingold

Die Walküre
27 Nov 2004 (Saturday) 5.30pm

Walküre Siegmund Stuart Skelton Sieglinde Deborah Riedel Hunding Richard Green Wotan John Bröcheler Brünnhilde Lisa Gasteen Fricka Elizabeth Campbell Gerhilde Elizabeth Stannard Helmwige Kate Ladner Waltraute Liane Keegan Schwertleite Zan McKendree-Wright Ortlinde Lisa Harper-Brown Siegrune Gaye MacFarlane Grimgerde Jennifer Barnes Rossweisse Donna-Maree Dunlop

The start time of Rheingold, you might have noticed, was in the middle of the day, because of the time required to reset the stage between the end of Rheingold and the start of Die Walküre. The crew, I'm told, basically starts working at 8 am on the morning of Rheingold on a schedule which doesn't finish till 48 hours later when the sets for Die Walküre have been struck to clear the theatre for Siegfried. With some exceptions, most of the sets for each opera are dismantled and taken offsite by semi-trailers, simply because of their size.

This morning, we'd gone to the South Australian Museum and Art Gallery of South Australia to check out the Ring-related exhibitions curated by Dr Christine Rothhauser, a friend and fellow opera fan. (Last year, we'd gone together to the opening night of Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg in Sydney, which was another marathon singfest that began at 5.30 pm and ended a few minutes before midnight.)

Those who know Die Walküre will know that it begins, quite literally, with the classic "It was a dark and stormy night..." setting. From this dramatic opening, a stranger comes stumbling into the house of Hunding, meets Sieglinde, discovers that she is his long-lost sister, and they fall in love and elope. Die Walküre also contains the most number of theatrical showpieces in this cycle, beginning with twelve telescoping spikes in a ring which symbolizes both the perimeter of Hunding's house as well as the grey bars of the imprisoned Sieglinde. In the middle of this circle, a wading pool in lieu of the great ash, where over the Prelude, Wotan plants the sword Notung. In the first scene with Brünnhilde and Wotan, the flourescent floor from Rheingold appears redux with transparent plastic figures wearing winged helmets (left: Wotan and Brünnhilde), and at the fiery conclusion, Brünnhilde lies on an elevated dais within a doughnut (sorry, that's is really the word which came to mind, and I know I wasn't the only one. Ed: look for yourself, in the cast inset) surrounded by twelve tongues of bellowing flame using the same floor ports as the spikes earlier.

"Our first and most spontaneous perceptions are often our most valuable ones," wrote the Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein in his treatise The Film Sense, "because these sharp, fresh, lively impressions invariably derive from the most widely various fields." He was writing about film, but these remarks could apply equally to opera as well, since both forms require, as he points out, a synthesis of several and diverse fields of artistic endeavour by an army of artists contributing their talents. Sergei Einsenstein, of course, himself directed a production of Die Walküre at the Bolshoi Opera Theatre in Moscow which premiered on 21 November 1940.

Another of Niedhardt's dispensation with Wagner's directions occurs when Fricka comes storming in on her own feet, rather than being drawn by a two-rampower chariot - she had ample precedence, considering that Wagner himself dispensed with it, too, in his own Bayreuth production. Along the way, I am beginning to get the impression that Neidhardt intends very much for the abstract designs, like Wagner's orchestral underscore, to play as subtext to the spoken drama on stage. For instance, she gets Wotan to take a literal part in setting the stage in Sieglinde's Spring Song, by having him appear pulling a floral curtain upstage and having the set awash in green. This segues into the forest in which Hunding duels Siegmund, represented by a series of increasingly angular bars slashing across the top of the stage. This makes for a sharp contrast to an entirely different kind of forest in Siegfried, one of green helium-filled balloons - which of course plays right into Siegfried's child-like character.

The biggest coup de theatre was unleashed in the designers' bold reinterpretation of the opening of Act 3's Ride of the Valkyries - the shieldmaidens accoutred in punk-rock silver and pink skin-tight futurewear, flaming red hairdos which defy the law of gravity and one of the ladies, I swear, is wearing nipple clamps on her bustier. All of them exchanging nugatory horse-parking banter (that's what they're singing about in the Ride) and swilling blue ale in front of multimedia monitors at this humungous, Coyote Ugly watering hole called the (sniggle, sniggle) Wunder Bar. Certainly nothing close to the hyena-like scavanging Valkyries of the Bayreuth Festpiel Centennial production.

Neidhardt has also teased out some of the more subtle character relationships. When Wotan punishes Brünnhilde for her disobedience, we see a clear parallel of Wotan with Alberich, in the fact that both of them renounce love in their desire for the Ring. Whereas Alberich's renunciation of love is more in general terms, Wotan explicitly (and against his own better judgment) turns his back on son Siegmund and daughter Brünnhilde. Like Alberich, Wotan also engenders his own offspring in an attempt to introduce agents of change who can step outside and regain the Ring for the parent.

When Siegmund (Stuart Skelton) and Sieglinde (Deborah Riedel) give each other the huge smouldering "love at first sight" look, you feel that you might spontaneously combust if you walked between their line of sight. Lisa Gasteen, who has not pulled out, is a splendid Brünnhilde, not just for her amazing vocal ability but her fortitude in hobbling through two Acts in a heeled boot (she would finish Siegfried and Götterdämmerung barefoot, with the left leg conspicuously bandaged up.) Richard Green as Hunding, aristocratic in red turtleneck and sword-cane, doesn't come off as loathsome as they normally do, although there is a hint that this particular chappie had a bit of a drink problem. All in all, it was no surprise that I enjoyed Die Walküre the most of the four.

Elapsed time so far: 6 hrs 15 mins actual running time, 7 hrs 45 mins total running time.
 

---

Siegfried Mime Richard Greager Siegfried Gary Rideout The Wanderer John Bröcheler Alberich John Wegner Fafner David Hibbard Woodbird Shu-Cheen Yu Erda Liane Keegan Brünnhilde Lisa Gasteen

29 Nov 2004 (Mon) "Siegfried" 5.00pm
 
We spend most of Sunday driving all over the Adelaide Hills district, kind of not doing anything much, which is my kind of holiday. We do stop by at the little township of Hahndorf, a bit touristy these days, but there is a splendid second-hand bookshop there to die for, which I always make a point of visiting when I'm in Hahndorf. This day, I exited triumphant with a collection of paperbacks by Alexander Solzehnitsyn, having bought more books in one swoop here than in the last twelve months combined.

Back at the Festival Theatre on Monday evening. Looking at the audience, I'm thinking about what it is that appeals to older people about opera. I suppose we look at theatre as a form of escapism from "real world" unpleasantness, and in this light, it seems strange that to visit the Ring, being in Wagner's own words a Gesamtkunstwerk- a "total work of art" - is to be inevitably reminded of the unavoidable destiny and decay that eventually sets upon us all. I mean, even the last installment of the cycle is called "Twilight of the Gods". (Only "From the House of the Dead", as opera titles go, is more cosmically morbid.)

We received our tickets to the cycle as a quartet of plastic wallet-sized cards about five months ago, which was unnecessarily cumbersome because they could have issued one card saying "Die Ring" with our names and seat numbers which could have been used for all admission. It sure beats having to laminate a separate card for every night, and make us sort through them to make sure we bring the right one along. Go figure.

The word out is that Timothy Bussard is going to be replaced by Gary Rideout in the title role of Siegfried, due to the former's throat strain. A throat strain before he's even sung a note in this cycle? So not buying it here, guys. (Much, much later, I do in fact manage to hear about the actual reason for this switcheroo. Suffice to say that Gary Rideout does make the most of his opportunity, and gives a stunning performance as Siegfried. In my experience, covers and understudies tend to do very well, if only because they try that much harder when the rare opportunity knocks.)


Opposite him is Lisa Gasteen (coming on in the last act) as Brünnhilde, and in the final longeurs of their duet, it is interesting to note that she and Rideout spend more time declaiming their passion and love for each other to the audience, rather than to each other. Whereas in Die Walküre, the duets between Sieglinde and Siegmund were largely diegetic - that is, they acted as it they were within the context of the world of action on stage, rather than "consciously" being aware of the audience.

As with the previous two operas, right from curtain up, the set design tells us a lot about what we need to know. This is Mime's cave where Siegfried has been fostered, represented by the same twelve spikes of Hunding's home, except they are decrepit and the floor is littered with what I can only describe as bachelor detritus: egg cartons, rusty cans, broken toys, cans of Spam. The forest of green balloons I've already mentioned, and the Woodbird emerges (led onstage by Wotan - another clever Neidhardt touch) as a sunglassed floozy carrying a Mylar balloon shaped like a pair of lips. (Dame Joan Sutherland's debut at the Metropolitan was in this cameo role.)

The battle between Siegfried and Fafner demonstrates another astounding feat of Scott-Mitchell's design. Fafner's cave opens up like an camera iris and a huge metal claw emerges. In a move of stylized violence, Siegfried climbs onto the open upstretched claw and plunges the sword through the palm: again, I'll leave the analysis of this soteriology imagery to someone else. In a mirror reference to Fafner's giving the gods the middle finger back in Rheingold, the dying dragon's claw here closes up too, but leaves the central digit upstretched.

Richard Greager combines aspects of villainy and comedy to create a memorable Mime with whom the audience can give some sympathy. This makes for a splendid foil to Siegfried, played by Gary Rideout with innocence, loneliness and crassness - kind of the way that small children sometimes are simple and wanton because they simply do not know better. John Bröcheler returns for his final (vocal) appearance as the Wanderer, and he plays the part with a weary candour which is predictably conventional.(This is not, for instance, going to be a Wotan who just might avert the dreaded twilight of the Gods.) In fact, he is so resigned to fate here that I can even find an ecclesiastical subtext: the giving up of one's personal will to a higher cosmic predestination is the cornerstone of many religious beliefs which demand total surrender of self-will.

Elapsed time so far: 10 hrs 20 mins actual running time, 13 hrs 30 mins total running time. (And someone was overheard mumbling in the lobby that the conductor's taking it too fast. Strange thing is, I agree.)

---

Götterdämmerung First Norn Liane Keegan Second Norn Gaye MacFarlane Third Norn Kate Ladner Brünnhilde Lisa Gasteen Siegfried Timothy Mussard Gunther Jonathan Summers Hagen Duccio dal Monte Gutrune Joanna Cole Waltraute Elizabeth Campbell Alberich John Wegner Woglinde Natalie Jones Wellgunde Donna-Maree Dunlop Flosshilde Zan McKendree-Wright

2 Dec 2004 (Thur) "Götterdämmerung" 4.30pm
Tempus does really fugit. Before we know it, we're already at the final installment of Der Ring des Nibelungen. Of course, with so much exposition under the bridge (so to speak), some continuity problems have begun to crop up. Like, does the Ring really have any powers whatsoever? Why didn't Wotan invoke its power and subordinate the giants to his will in Rheingold? And what about Brünnhilde's victimology. Fricka, I think it was, who claims that any woman who had the Ring could be ensured of her spouse's fidelity - and of course if that had indeed been the case, then Götterdämmerung would not gotten past Act 1.

In mythology ancient to present, it has always been the struggle against adversity and/or monsters which people need to overcome. Sometimes they have to make terrible sacrifices, and sometimes they die, but win or lose, the point is that they have fought the good fight. Where many modern narratives on television and film attempt to modern reality, to the point it borders on being "too real" to be believable (kind of telecine verité), this is never the concern in opera. Opera models fiction: never mind the melodrama of its unbelievable plots and characters, we want to watch and hear and tell a story which speaks to us from beyond the mundane. To paraphrase W H Auden, no fairy story ever claimed to be a description of the real world, and no sane person ever believed it was.
 

Speaking of mythology, it is surprising how often similar themes, characters and events appear and re-appear in different cultures. Even Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, if you think about it: the discovery of the One Ring at the bottom of a river, immediately followed by one person murdering another, is exactly the thematic element of the Vorspiel of the Wagner's Ring Cycle. Or the significance in a magic sword broken in battle, only for the bearer's descendant to reforge the weapon's fragments, and reclaim his inheritance. Which isn't that far removed either from Luke Skywalker's defeat at Cloud City and his constructing his own lightsaber on his hero's path towards Jedi knighthood.

Götterdämmerung begins with the three Norns (left) giving yet another recap of what has happened over the past few days, in a setting so dark and gloomy I find myself squinting again to make out the singers. Musically, the orchestra also recaps some of the more important Leitmotifs as well, which isn't a bad way to bring everyone back up to momentum. Eventually, we do get to the Hall of the Gibichungs, and yet another inspired design using a telescoping series of pillars and rafters to create a forced perspective framework of size.

Jonathan Summers, who was marvelous in the title role of Otello last year at the Opera House, makes his appearance as the sly and not a little bit cowardly Gunther, opposite Philip Kang as a right scheming Hagen (the aforesaid offspring of Alberich and Gunther's mother. Don't ask.) Joanna Cole is a very empathic Gutrune, limping in leg braces and nerd glasses, and getting pushed around by the two gents, and Cole's contribution in this otherwise thankless role elevates the character from being an unregarded plot device into a someone for whom the audience actually cares about.

Remember when I mentioned earlier that the design plays a subtext? It happens here when Waltraute re-enters to plead with Brünnhilde to return the Ring. Waltraute's frizzled greyhairs and sallow countenance not unlike someone in a tuberculosis ward, compared to the gravity-defying punk hairdos and silver-pink bustiers from two operas ago, bespoke of the ennui and decay of the immortals. Another obvious touch, which I guess everyone could see coming, was the Tarnhelm-as-bondage-mask device which allows Siegfried (Timothy Bussard in lukewarm timbre) to take a break and Gunther to sing offstage in the Disguise Scene.

Somehow, the chemistry between Bussard's Siegfried and Gasteen's Brünnhilde was not as effective as Rideout's Siegfried, nor was the narcoleptic encounter between Hagen and Alberich at the opening of Act 2 entirely convincing. But the weight of expectations ultimately falls to Lisa Gasteen and Brünnhilde: her early passion for Siegfried, her anguish and fury at his betrayal, leading up to the apocalyptic climax where she burns the entire universe down. Gasteen may not be the sweetest-toned Brünnhilde around, but she does have the oomph to carry the role, and then some.

Having gone on a backstage visit earlier in the morning and seen what to expect, I was only vaguely disappointed that there was no major theatrical coup at the end to reward the audience for having put up with hours and hours of longeurs. For all its revolutionary aesthetics in the Ring cycle, the effects in Götterdämmerung are quite conventional: no Grane bearing Brünnhilde into immolation, or the apocalyptic burning of Valhalla, or the Rhine bursting its banks (unless you count the reappearance of the water curtain from Rheingold).

As King Lear famously said, "Nothing comes from nothing" and what we get to see in opera often depends on the budget and director's agenda. Here both were probably deciding factors in the simple (or minimalist?) touch of just having upstage a line of fire (not unlike an oversized kebab grill), the water curtain, and as the music carries the Gesamtkunstwerk to its conclusion, Erda appears centerstage spotlight with a sapling plant. I think that after three nights of divers and splendiferous effects, a form of diminishing returns sets in as audience expectations rise, and short of redirecting the Torrens River behind the Centre and setting the theatre on fire, I suppose there was just nothing left for the designers to outdo themselves. (above: Hagen)

About the music, before I forget, and music director Asher Fisch's reading of the Cycle. Surprisingly good, I have to say, where Fisch's order of the day in interpreting Wagner is a form of intricate calculated synthesis by bringing the two viewpoints, from the pit and on the stage, below and above, into a nuanced blend of text and subtext. He crafted an augmented Adelaide Symphony Orchestra into a mighty landscaped canvas of sound with terraces, colonnades and scalar flights of steps, augmented by the first-class acoustics, that underpinned the action on stage.

Ultimately, though, the main talking point of this Cycle will be the design. In this fashion-obsessed day and age, you can never have too much of visual superficiality. Design, by definition, concerns itself with appearances (sometimes too often at the expense of substance.) This production, no doubt about it, was greatly design-driven. It prefers to suggest abstractly more than it explicitly shows and defines, and no doubt the designers were very comfortable with this dichotomy. Like many other syncretic Rings, they go for realism when they can manage it, make historical allusions when convenient, and overwhelm the audience with design when all else fails. Thus, no tree in Hunding's house but a pool of water, no Rainbow bridge but a flight of clinic-white flourescent steps, no craggy mountaintop but the Wunder Bar. (above)

That said, a production's obligations are always to the audience. (Dead composers don't buy tickets.) Technological prowess does impress, but too much technology will distance the audience. And at the same time productions, too, have to serve the desires of the director and the designers, and hopefully not send everyone for a bath in red ink. Speaking of red ink, I have no regrets in this respect to have spent the vacation money here being part of this experience. As good as one's money can buy, this production is polished, powerful and impressive.

Final elapsed time: 15 hrs 10 mins actual running time, 19 hrs 45 mins total running time. (Told you the conductor was too fast in some bits.)

click here to return to top

 

Readers' Comments

Return to the Classical Index!... or Visit the Inkvault archives!

All original texts are copyrighted. Please seek permission from the Classical Editor
if you wish to reproduce/quote Inkpot material.