Royal Opera House, Covent
Garden
Woglinde – Nadine Livingston
Wellgunde – Kai Rüütel
Flosshilde – Harriet Williams
Alberich – Wolfgang Koch
Wotan – Bryn Terfel
Fricka – Sarah Connolly
Freia – Ann Petersen
Donner – Peter Coleman-Wright
Froh – Andrew Rees
Fasolt – Iain Paterson
Fafner – Eric Halfvarson
Loge – Stig Andersen
Mime – Gerhard Siegel
Erda – Maria Radner
Keith Warner (director)
Walter Sutcliffe (associate
director)
Justin Way, Michael Csar
(first assistant directors)
Stefanos Lazaridis, Matthew
Deely (set designs)
Marie-Jeanne Lecca (costumes)
Wolfgang Göbbel (lighting)
Mic Pool, Dick Straker (video
designs)
Claire Gaskin, Michael Barry
(movement)
Orchestra of the Royal Opera
House
Sir Antonio Pappano
(conductor)
Siegfried, Götterdämmerung,
Rheingold, little likelihood of Die Walküre: not necessarily the most
obvious, nor indeed recommendable, way of experiencing the Ring, though Wagner’s method and form in any case leave us with all
manner of questions and experiences concerning history, memory, the past, the
present, and the future. No matter: though one can never know the Ring too well, I have seen the
production twice before and flatter myself that I have not entirely forgotten
the works themselves either. After the dismal
experience of Götterdämmerung, I
was in any case feeling distinctly unenthused about the prospect of standing
through Das Rheingold. Low
expectations were probably no bad thing. Would they be fulfilled, exceeded, or
somehow prove nevertheless too elevated?
Fulfilled really – though, on
the whole, it was probably a bit better than Götterdämmerung. Keith Warner’s production is for the most part on
safer ground here. The opening scene works well: I like the idea of having the
initially nude Rhinemaidens clothe themselves as their behaviour becomes
nastier; there never was a Golden Age in the Ring-cosmos but things only get worse. The gods’ realm benefits
from richly-upholstered designs, though I think the portrayal of Froh is
overdone; he is pretty much a cipher, a deliberately uninteresting aristocrat, in
any case, but silliness was pushed too far. Wolfgang Göbbel’s lighting works
wonders, especially in Nibelheim – Alberich’s transformations are probably the
best I have seen – and during the storm of the final scene. I still do not
understand why Nibelheim is a place of scientific experimentation, though. One
could make all sorts of points about instrumental reason, but they need to be
made. Here it rather appeared as if the setting of Warner’s Royal Opera Wozzeck had been modified a bit, and
capital had bizarrely gone out of the window. Surely this must in some sense be
a factory.
Antonio Pappano’s conducting
remained disappointing. There were moments that impressed, but Wagner, whatever
Nietzsche’s barbs, is anything but a miniaturist. The point is the composer’s
art of transition, of which he was justly proud; Pappano simply seems unable to
make the score work as a whole, quasi-symphonically. The Prelude was
depressing, seemingly presented bar by bar; if ever forward momentum needs to
be achieved in the most ‘natural’ fashion it is surely here. Without any intelligible sense of life, of momentum, the second and fourth scenes in particular dragged almost interminably. The orchestra for
the most part played well enough, despite a few too many brass fluffs, but the anvils
were both risibly underpowered and, on more than one occasion, disturbingly out
of time. They almost might have been cowbells, albeit without Mahler’s sense of
foreboding.
The Rhinemaidens, once past
their opening bars, sang impressively – and acted with convincing coquetry throughout.
Wolfgang Koch’s Alberich lacks the
blackness one might expect, but is always intelligently portrayed, with more or
less equal attention to words, music, and gesture. His Mime, Gerhard Siegel is similarly
good in those respects. (Why, though does Warner have Loge stay behind in
Nibelheim to tie him up?! It only serves to confuse, especially when he seems
about to immolate his captive and then does not.) Sarah Connolly sings
beautifully for most of the time as Fricka, though I missed something more
formidable in Wagner’s Hera equivalent. Ann Petersen made a lovely Freia
though, and the love felt by Iain Paterson’s Fasolt seemed utterly genuine. He
and Eric Halfvarson both acted their parts well, though the latter’s Fafner was
a bit bluff. Andrew Rees was an attractively-voiced Froh; doubtless the over-acting had been pressed upon him. Alas, Peter Coleman-Wright proved at least as dreadful a Donner as
he had a Gunther, his weakness of voice an embarrassment for one who should
resound as the incarnation of brute force. He really ought to have been
replaced. Stig Andersen lacked much sense of the sardonic as Loge; his stage
portrayal – Warner’s idea of Loge as a magician intrigues – was stronger than
his delivery of the vocal line. Maria Radner seems miscast as Erda; her voice
is simply not deep enough to register the earth mother’s tones. That leaves
Bryn Terfel as Wotan. He seems to garner plaudits from all and sundry, but to
my ears he too often alternated between coarseness, even shouting during the
final act, and something perilously
close to crooning. The words were delivered intelligibly, but there was little
philosophical depth to his portrayal; again, stage presence was generally more
impressive than vocal delivery. It was nevertheless probably a better stab at
the role than his Wanderer in Siegfried.
Oh well: probably no reason
to feel dispirited about missing Die
Walküre then...
