I have been slightly strange reactions to reviews of the Royal Opera's Die Walküre that opened last week.
I bought a ticket, because I wanted to go, then I sold the ticket, because, well, oh heck, you know why...And then I bought two more tickets, but for not-until-July.
Of the tetralogy, I think Walküre is my least favourite. But I'm not sure. And I'm even less sure it matters, this ranking thing. And I definitely know now that Winterstürme is one of my top arias - if it is an aria, I'm not sure. A feeling that was confirmed on Thursday morning when I sat in the tastefully planted smoking area outside Dublin airport, basking in the Spring sun
Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond,
in mildem Lichte leuchtet der Lenz;
auf linden Lüften leicht und lieblich,
Wunder webend er sich wiegt;
durch Wald und Auen weht sein Atem,
weit geöffnet lacht sein Aug': -
aus sel'ger Vöglein Sange süß er tönt,
holde Düfte haucht er aus;
seinem warmen Blut entblühen wonnige Blumen,
Keim und Sproß entspringt seiner Kraft.
Mit zarter Waffen Zier bezwingt er die Welt;
Winter und Sturm wichen der starken Wehr:
wohl mußte den tapfern Streichen
die strenge Türe auch weichen,
die trotzig und starr uns trennte von ihm. -
Zu seiner Schwester schwang er sich her;
die Liebe lockte den Lenz:
in unsrem Busen barg sie sich tief;
nun lacht sie selig dem Licht.
Die bräutliche Schwester befreite der Bruder;
zertrümmert liegt, was je sie getrennt:
jauchzend grüßt sich das junge Paar:
vereint sind Liebe und Lenz!
If I get round to it I'll type an English translation (Babelfish gives a shrug and says, I can't cope...) - but it starts Winter Storms have given way to Spring delights. Which is nicely apt for today when it's hot hot hot in London town...
Anyway, the reviews...
It's a one-song town Apart from the towering presence of Bryn Terfel, whose Wotan proves him one of the great Wagnerians of our time, Covent Garden's Ring is turning out to be an unexpectedly grave disappointment, largely because of the shambles that is Keith Warner's staging...five paragraphs about the staging...Pappano conducts in paragraphs short of true Wagernian sweep, while stewarding memorable performances from Terfel and Gasteen, Rosalind Plowright as Fricka and Stephen Milling as Hunding. The evening's other star is Katarina Dalayman's thrillingly sung Sieglinde; if her Siegmund, Jorma Silvasti, is less than charismatic, he is to be replaced in July by one Plácido Domingo. Unless Warner's woeful staging gives the great man second thoughts.
Die Walküre...Nine paragraphs about the staging...A conductor with an over-arching sense of the Walküre architecture might have supplied the dramatic continuity so signally lacking. Antonio Pappano deals in short-breathed paragraphs that are convincing enough in their own right but never combine into something bigger and better. As in Rheingold, it is left to Bryn Terfel's Wotan to lift the performance.
In the second act his voice sounded a little tired and worn - but, by the time he reached his confrontation with Lisa Gasteen's Brünnhilde in the third, he was in glorious form, and his rapt account of the Farewell, every word glowing and intense, was enough almost to erase memories of the ludicrous, infantile way in which his first scene with his daughter is directed. Gasteen's performance is admirable and tireless, and there is clearly more to come in the rest of the cycle.
Katarina Dalayman sings gloriously, though we have seen the dowdy and downtrodden character she creates for Sieglinde at Covent Garden in both Wozzeck and Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Neither Jorma Silvasti's Siegmund nor Stephen Milling's axe-wielding Hunding projects much of a personality, though that is partly the way in which they are directed, while, as Fricka, Rosalind Plowright attempts to fill that void with some grand guignol acting of her own; it doesn't work, but at least she tries.
This 'Ring' just gets better Now that the mortals have joined the gods and monsters, the feeling is that Keith Warner's new Covent Garden Ring is coming into its own. This potent staging of Die Walküre is remarkable for the intelligent and focused exposition of its text and - in the final act especially - the power of its imagery...three paragraphs on the production, and more importantly, the dramaturgy...Antonio Pappano and the orchestra rose to that moment as they rose to every moment of this most impassioned segment of the Ring - with heart and soul. Katarina Dalayman's Sieglinde did much the same with her "redemption of love" moment in Act III - she was terrific. And though Jorma Silvasti's rapid vibrato is not to everyone's taste, he was a sensitive and immensely lyrical Siegmund. A raucous band of Valkyries brandishing horses' skulls "rode" with us to the mountain top, and Wotan got his fingers burned as the fire descended. This Ring is definitely cooking.
Amid the nonsense, a towering Terfel fulfils his destiny
No opera begins with more tense expectancy than Die Walküre, as Wagner's orchestra depicts the fugitive Siegmund running desperately through a storm...four paragraphs about the staging...
But the performance is musically stupendous. In his first Wotan, Bryn Terfel fulfils his destiny as an operatic singer. His clarity of projection, firmness of line, richness of tone and nobility of presence all bespeak rare artistry. The duel with Fricka (the splendidly indignant Rosalind Plowright, in excellent voice) crackled, the central monologue riveted, and the farewell became unutterably moving, A great, great performance.
Thanks to a staging glitch, his Brünnhilde, Lisa Gasteen, got off to a disastrous start. Her top register remained unruly, but she went on to produce some warmly expressive singing in the middle octave of her voice, and her characterisation of the Valkyrie had plenty of spunk. Katarina Dalayman was a heart-rendingly ardent Sieglinde, Jorma Silvasti a sympathetic Siegmund (a pity about the fast bleat that develops under pressure), Stephen Milling a baleful Hunding. Antonio Pappano conducted with electrifying urgency and drew some beautifully detailed and refined playing from the orchestra.
Whatever the shortcomings of the staging, this was an enthralling occasion, received with a thunderous ovation.
Some say that since Wagner's drama is all hokum, there is no point worrying about productions: you should just concentrate on the music. For much of the second part of Covent Garden's Ring Cycle, directed by Keith Warner, it is an attractive proposition.
Pappano is a great conductor of Italian music, but he is no natural Wagnerian. For most of the first act, the conductor and orchestra seemed to be sight-reading, the score broken down into gobbets and jolting along without any sense of scale, pacing or structure.
It is Wagner's most rapturous act, an unstoppable musical force that leaves the twins Siegmund and Sieglinde no choice but to rip each other's clothes off. Here they could have been limbering up for a trip to Tesco.
Things improve dramatically when Bryn Terfel appears.
His Wotan is the only character with the vocal heft and craft to overcome the weakness of the production's clutter.
His brilliance is crystallised in his confrontation with Rosalind Plowright's coruscating Fricka and his soliloquy, a tortured hunt through thickets of his own falsehoods ending with an unforgettable bellow of zugzwanged rage. It is fabulous singing: it is shaded, interior, phenomenally engaged. And it is the high point.
However, there are also some wonderful moments elsewhere: Brünnhilde telling Siegmund of his death, poised and full of heartbreaking orchestral freight; Wotanâs farewell, with sweeping musical impetus and some marvellously overwrought strings.
The action unfolds in what could have been a Victorian pornographer's pad â all black marble and leather. But the staging does not really matter.
Nor do jokes involving freaked-out, gallumphing Valkyries, Brünnhilde's frisky gothery or a comically inept fight scene.
Brünnhilde, Sieglinde and Hunding are all played by intelligent, misused singers who â as a result â bellow and shriek.
Jorma Silvasti's lyrical Siegmund is really the only vocal relief, apart from Terfel.
Otherwise, this staging, full of padding and smart-aleck references, diffuses Wagner's musical power: it is an elemental drama gelded by unasked questions and a lack of ambition.
Always interesting, in any context, to read differing, often contrasting views of the same thing. I don't know why they concentrate so much on the staging, in contrast to the music and the singing. Well, I do actually, it is easier by a degree of magnitiude to write a narrative description of a staging than it is to write about music. But, in my opinion, people will put up with a production they don't like if the music is performed well, or better, but few will tolerate poor music for the sake of a production they like.
I have the Met's Rheingold and Walküre on DVD. Excellent in so very many ways, including consistency with Wagner's stage directions blah blah blah. But I hate the staging and the costumes. Hate hate hate.
