DVD review: Siegfried and Götterdämmerung, Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar

Siegfried

Siegfried – Johnny van Hal
Brünnhilde – Catherine Foster
The Wanderer – Tomas Möwes
Erda – Nadine Weissmann
Mime – Frieder Aurich
Alberich – Mario Hoff
Fafner – Hidekazu Tsumaya
Woodbird – Heike Porstein
Donner – Lars Creuzberg
Froh – Steffen Bärtl
Grane – Erika Krämer
Hagen – Johannes Martin
Voice of the Norns – Burkhard Wolf
Siegfried as child, Hagen, Loge, Grane doubles, Forest Birds, Bear – Supernumeraries of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar

Arthaus DVD 101 357 (2 DVDs, 251 minutes; recorded live at the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar, 2008)

Götterdämmerung

Siegfried – Norbert Schmittberg
Brünnhilde – Catherine Foster
Gunther – Mario Hoff
Hagen – Renatus Mészár
Alberich – Tomas Möwes
Gutrune – Marietta Zumbült
First Norn/Valkyrie – Christine Hansmann
Second Norn/Erda/Waltraute – Nadine Weissmann
Third Norn/Valkyrie/Woglinde – Silona Michel
Valkyrie/Flosshilde – Christiane Bassek
Valkyrie/Wellgunde – Susann Günther-Dissmeier
Valkyries – Kerstin Quandt, Annegret Schodlok, Elke Sobe
Grane – Erika Krämer
Fafner – Hidekazu Tsumaya
Ravens – Theatre Club of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar

Opera Chorus of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar
Gentlemen of the Weimar Philharmonic Chorus
Supernumeraries of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar

Arthaus DVD 101 359 (2 DVDs, 277 minutes; recorded live at the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar, 2008)

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Michael Schulz (stage director)
Brooks Riley (television director)
Dirk Becker (designs)
Renée Listerdal (costumes)
Wolfgang Willaschek (dramaturg)

Staatskapelle Weimar
Carl St Clair (conductor)

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A glance at the cast-list for these two recordings attests to intensification of Michael Schulz’s strange obsession with introducing extra characters into der ring in weimar. (Click here for review of Das Rheingold and Die Walküre.) Of the multifarious accusations hurled at the Ring, a paucity of characters is new to me. Before the music begins, we see the boy Hagen sitting under a table, playing with a sword and reading a book, presumably the story so far. There is also a male ‘Voice of the Norns’. During the Prelude to the first act of Siegfried, Fafner appears and celebrates his hoard. At least – this is a rare thing – that is consonant with the music and might even help explain it to newcomers. Fafner is not strictly an ‘extra’, since he is scheduled to appear later, though we see him again before the second act anyway. There are other guest appearances: unidentified henchmen, whom the Wanderer brings with him to question Mime, characters who turn out, by process of elimination from the booklet cast list, to be Froh and Donner. Alberich and the boy Hagen also pop in at the end of the act, just as Siegfried’s bear for no apparent reason gets up and leaves. Fafner, supposedly in his cave, peers through the window. Another boy – Siegfried looking at his later self? – appears and fights with Hagen. It is difficult to establish who forges Notung; everyone has a go.

I have not the inclination to catalogue all these ‘walk-ons’, but should mention a few more. The end of Siegfried has three ‘Grane doubles’ – the ‘real’ Grane remains an elderly woman – who walk to and fro, moving furniture and preparing for dinner. One has her/his/its hair done by Brünnhilde. All of the Valkyries traipse on for Waltraute’s visitation; all practise the one-eyed salute, presumably to Wotan, which characters seem to adopt when the bewildering stream of other ideas has momentarily run dry. Some teenagers, identified in the booklet as ‘ravens’, are brought on at various points, one of them being kissed by Siegfried, when the text would have the latter drink from Hagen’s draught.

Another continuing trait is the confusing, apparently arbitrary sharing of roles. It is common enough for substitutes to be used, whether through illness, diary clashes, or just to give someone else a chance, and even for different singers to be employed for different incarnations within the cycle. Here, however, when the cry of ‘all change’ is sounded at the end of each instalment, it seems that a dramatic point is being made. Unless it be to dismiss Wotan, Alberich, Hagen et al. as being ‘all the same’, I cannot work out what it is – short of sharing the misery of Mario Hoff. The Rheingold Wotan, he returns in Siegfried as the lightest-toned Alberich I have heard, subsequently proving a startlingly inadequate Gunther. Tomas Möwes, who did earlier service as Alberich, is an unsteady Wanderer, who reverts to Alberich in Götterdämmerung. Straining towards competence, he never quite achieves it in either role.

Catherine Foster appears on all three occasions as Brünnhilde. Perhaps this is ‘significant’, perhaps not. Hers is one of the better performances: arguably too ‘operatic’ in Siegfried but, in general, intelligently sung and acted. Of the two Siegfrieds, I have heard worse than Johnny van Hal (not ‘Hall’, as the booklet has it). Yet, wearily accustomed as one becomes to distinctly mature and unheroic portrayals, this goes too far. He often shouts and appears straightforwardly moronic, quite devoid of charisma. Norbert Schmittberg has a shaky vocal start, though he always looks more credible onstage. He improves considerably so as to make a creditable hero by the third act. There is, however, an unfortunate passage during the second act, when it is unclear whether Gutrune is covering her ears on account of being (rightly) troubled by his tuning. Renatus Mészár has a reasonable stab at Hagen, especially considering the director’s insistence on making him an abused child throughout. No one else, save an unpleasantly shrill Third Norn, makes much vocal impression either way, though Mime’s housewife garb registers without amusement.

Carl St Clair’s musical direction veers between the unremarkable and the life-sapping, while the orchestra is as ropy as I have heard in the Ring. ‘Chugging’ would be a generous description of the third act Prelude in Siegfried; no sign of a world-historical turning point here. The violins’ intonational difficulties during Siegfried’s first ascent of Brünnhilde’s rock provide an extreme but not unusual example, while the sound, orchestral and choral, for the Vassals’ Scene might be considered inadequate for a provincial performance of Donizetti.

Götterdämmerung seems little more than a children’s game gone wrong. Has so little ever been at stake? Yet, at the end of the second act, this odd game suddenly and inexplicably incites Brünnhilde and Gunther, of all people, to have sex. There is no sign whatsoever of Gutrune and Siegfried, while Gutrune’s presence during the Funeral March makes a nonsense of the action to come. The Immolation Scene has no fire, but a spot of concluding rain to fall upon an exclusively female group of watchers – Wagner stipulates ‘men and women’ – who have wandered onstage too late to watch Brünnhilde and Siegfried walk away. Those extra characters one might have expected, the gods in Valhalla, are nowhere to be seen, nor is their fortress. Undistinguished, uninvolving, unnecessary.

This review first appeared in The Wagner Journal, 4/1, pp. 70-72. Click here for further information on the journal, including subscription details.

DVD review: Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar

Das Rheingold. Mario Hoff (Wotan), Alexander Günther (Donner), Jean-Noël Briend (Froh), Erin Caves (Loge), Tomas Möwes (Alberich), Frieder Aurich (Mime), Renatus Mészár (Fasolt), Hidekazu Tsumaya (Fafner), Christine Hansmann (Fricka), Marietta Zumbült (Freia), Nadine Weissmann (Erda), Silona Michel (Woglinde), Susann Günther-Dissmeier (Wellgunde), Christian Bassek (Flosshilde), Luise Grabolle, Marie-Louise Winde, and Luisa Wöllner (Norns), Supernumeraries of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar; Staatskapelle Weimar/Carl St Clair; Michael Schulz (stage director), Brooks Riley (television director), Dirk Becker (designs), Renée Listerdal (costumes), Wolfgang Willaschek (dramaturge); Arthaus DVD 101 353 (166 minutes, live recording from the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar, 2008)

Die Walküre. Renatus Mészár (Wotan), Christine Hansmann (Fricka), Elisabeth Anetseder-Meyer (Freia as harpist), Lars Creuzberg (Donner), Steffen Bärtl (Froh/Loge), Erin Caves (Siegmund), Hidekazu Tsumaya (Hunding), Kirsten Blanck (Sieglinde), Catherine Foster (Brünnhilde), Silona Michael (Helmwige), Susann Günther-Dissmeier (Gerhilde), Joana Caspar (Ortlinde), Marie-Helen Joël (Waltraute), Carola Guber (Siegrune), Christiane Bassek (Rossweisse), Kerstin Quandt (Grimgerde), Nadine Weissmann (Schwertleite), Erika Krämer (Grane), Supernumeraries of the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar (Alberich, Hagen, Siegmund, and Sieglinde as children, men, and rams); Staatskapelle Weimar/Carl St Clair; Michael Schulz (stage director), Brooks Riley (television director), Dirk Becker (designs), Renée Listerdal (costumes), Wolfgang Willaschek (dramaturge); Arthaus DVD 101 355 (2 DVDs, 237 minutes, live recording from the Deutsches Nationaltheater Weimar, 2008)

This is not a Ring for musicians. Such is the evidence of the first and much of the second instalment of der ring in weimar: a commoditised reversion to the Master/master’s temporary, revolutionary eschewal of the upper-case. Let us start prior to the beginning, with one of those ubiquitous musical ‘introductions’. Wagner’s Ring/ring is surely better off starting with that low E flat; we, however, are condemned to hear, on endless loop, Erda’s warning, ‘Weiche Wotan, weiche ...,’ and the god’s response. Select subtitles according to taste and try again. Alas, no: tuning up intervenes, accompanied by the sight on stage of a pair of shoes and a cast list. Then applause for the conductor: fair enough, I suppose, should one wish to remind the audience that this is a theatre – except that a DVD audience will probably be at home. Following a blackout and noisy moving of feet on stage, there appear hand-puppeted girl-Norns, speaking a further ‘introduction’, this time from Siegfrieds Tod. It might have worked or been ‘interesting’; a fit of giggles – on stage, not at home – destroys any prospect of that. Finally, E flat...

I soon realised that the wait had not been worth it. Carl St Clair’s conducting is undistinguished, as is the Staatskapelle Weimar’s orchestral contribution. Bar-lines are all too frequently audible, nowhere more so than in the descent to Nibelheim. The orchestra sounds light and, worse, thin throughout: not emphasising allegedly Mendelssohnian antecedents, but simply underpowered and uninspired by the direction. At the end, the on-stage harpist seems to be the only harpist at all; moreover, either she is amplified or there is sonic trickery at work. The orchestra improves in Die Walküre, though this is certainly not a memorable musical account. There are difficulties here too: never have I heard the conclusion to the first act sound so underwhelming. One really needs Furtwängler, though, on film, Boulez/Chéreau will do perfectly well; the Weimar orchestra by contrast sounds grey and exhausted. The Magic Fire Music suffers similarly: how does one render it so colourless?

Singing is often little better. Christine Hansmann’s shrill, squally Fricka is outshone by Marietta Zumbült’s Red Riding Hood Freia. Mario Hoff’s Rheingold Wotan is inappropriately light, succeeded in Die Walküre by Renatus Mészár, darker-toned, though hardly ingratiating or idiomatic. He makes a much better Fasolt. Whether through design or default, the casting of Alberich and Fafner/Hunding brings considerably lighter voices than the norm from, respectively, Tomas Möwes and Hidekazu Tsumaya. Möwes’s Alberich often veers dangerously close to Sprechgesang, although, given his approximate pitch elsewhere, that may have been wise. Musical relief hails from Erin Caves and Kirsten Blanck as the Volsungs, the former providing irreproachable diction and the best vocal performance; he also impresses as Loge. Catherine Foster’s Brünnhilde proves variable: an intelligent portrayal. However, a pronounced beat and increasing intonational waywardness reveal themselves during the third act.

Let us return to Michael Schulz’s production, in which a certain disregard for musical values has already announced itself. Domesticity is the watchword. ‘Mark well my new poem – it contains the beginning of the world and its destruction!’ Thus wrote Wagner to Liszt in 1853. In Weimar, where Liszt was then based, 2008 brings nothing so consequential. There is a falling out between Wotan and Alberich, perhaps old friends, and a soap-opera feud thereafter. We are constantly reminded of the ‘other’ members of the families, especially Clan Wotan, though to what end remains obscure. Just when, during the second scene of Das Rheingold, set in a not very affluent house, it seems as though we might be in for a hint of Ibsen, the strange, brightly-coloured mugs on the table, not to mention the characters’ behaviour, push us back in the direction of EastEnders. No wonder the gods wish hastily to move into Valhalla. The dignity of Wotan’s music, just about conveyed by the orchestra, is belied by his inexplicable inability to unhand his consort. I wonder whether, whilst once it might have been necessary to divest these gods of their divinity, now might be the time to restore at least some element of their erstwhile aura. How, otherwise, are we to understand Wagner’s Feuerbachian alienation of human qualities?

Alberich, however, is a dwarf – at least for some of the time – by virtue of the aforementioned shoes being strapped to his knees. Standing tall when Lord of Nibelheim, he reverts to size when captured. We actually see him as a toad, which may cheer stage-direction-fetishists; yet, given the lack of a serpent or Alberich’s invisibility, this here seems at best naïve. Mime is a cleaner, not a skilled smith. Wagner’s distinction between Handwerk and Kunst therefore goes for nothing in a simplistic reduction of craft to the menial; we shall see what happens in Siegfried, when the ‘artist’ appears. Why Mime at one point emerges with a baby in his arms I have no idea. It is a nice touch, though, to witness his delight at Alberich’s capture. Both are in thrall to the proto-Nietzschean will to power; Alberich has simply been more successful to date, thereby feeding his brother’s ressentiment. An undeniably powerful moment is that of Wotan’s possession of the ring, when he severs Alberich’s finger. Loge looks genuinely shocked. ‘Doch, durch Gewalt!’ one might exclaim, against Wotan’s earlier warning to Donner. Sadly, the orchestra merely sounds petulant upon Alberich’s departure; the curse barely registers.

Fasolt’s reluctance to abandon Freia shines through, in touch and glance, and is interestingly complemented by reluctance on her part. The image of weighing scales makes its point clearly in the dialectic between love and power: Freia and hoard. It is in this final scene of the Vorabend that a guiding visual motif imprints itself. Echoing – consciously? – Ruth Berghaus, covering of eyes becomes the customary salute to Wotan’s bartered eye. Subsequently, in Die Walküre, there is a degree of horror to the occasional removal of his eye-patch. Unfortunately, as with so much else in the production, the broader point is unclear, likewise how it might fit with the rest of the domesticated re-telling. Is it a reference to Wotan’s craving for knowledge and its cost, or a banal reminder that someone who has lost his eye might unleash his anger upon others?

Die Walküre has another delayed opening, Freia as on-stage harpist accompanying excerpts from Wagner’s sketches for Siegfrieds Tod, sung by the Valkyries at home in Valhalla. Wotan is the proud father. On marches Alberich, with the boy Hagen, who screams and obliterates the song: no great loss. Only then can the storm begin, Wotan presenting Siegmund and Sieglinde as children with blindfolds, Sieglinde later wearing hers around her wrist. They are worn again in the final scene, to be cast off upon the triumphant naming of Siegmund. Hunding’s status in a brutal society is underlined by the presence at dinner of his clan, replete with baseball bats. Wotan – who seems to be invisible – performs undercover work amongst them, the Wanderer before his time. His hat cocked as it is, he disconcertingly resembles Daniel Barenboim in a widely-disseminated publicity photograph; I assume the likeness to be incidental. Instead of extracting Notung from the tree, Siegmund simply receives it from Wotan/Wälse.

Incorporation of extra characters becomes almost farcical in the second act. Fricka arrives with her rams, all of whom wear spectacles, a sneak preview already granted at the end of the first act, when, to add to St Clair’s musical anti-climax, the Volsungs disappear and Hunding prays to Fricka. A truly mystifying reappearance seemed to be that of Erda, present for much of the second and third acts. During Wotan’s monologue she brings on a cadaver for tentative inspection, eventually leaving with Brünnhilde – and a suitcase: who said that Regietheater clichés were dead? She returns later on, to lead off Brünnhilde once again, this time with Sieglinde in tow. In the third act, and this was where I thought I gleaned some sense, she presents her daughter, in Wotan’s presence, with a wedding dress. Given the portrayal of the Ride of the Valkyries as a girls’ dormitory pillow fight, I assumed that Brünnhilde was fated to leave the Valhalla nursery for a life of bourgeois domesticity in her own household. Perhaps that was so, yet my incipient reading was thrown into confusion by the discovery, upon reading the cast list, that this elderly woman had not in fact been Erda, but Grane: a trusty and versatile steed.

It should perhaps not surprise that Weimar’s German National Theatre, long without a Ring, should elevate stagecraft over music, though I fail to see why the choice should be posed. Nevertheless, it is difficult to imagine who, other than those who attended in the theatre or the most indefatigable of completists, would consider der ring in weimar, at least so far, to be other than inessential. What truly saddens is how dull the Ring has been rendered. Watched on television need not resemble made for television.

This review first appeared in The Wagner Journal, 3/3, pp. 96-99. Click here for further information on the journal, including subscription details.