I have to confess up front that I did not stay for Act III. I realise that this is heretical and hypocritical, and completely wrong, but, in my defence, I will say I was sitting next to the second smelliest man who has ever walked into the Royal Opera House and by the end of Act II he was deteriorating badly. Also, and more importantly, I have been warned by diverse and numerous people of the need to pace myself and not 'overdo it' for the Ring, and for perhaps the first time in my life I am actually listening to sensible advice. (I am on a warning about sickness absence at work) So my 'review' can only be of Acts I and II.
Die Walküre, the first day of the Tetralogy, following the prelude that is Das Rheingold. The Ring as a whole is among my very favourite operas; Act 1 of Die Walküre is without doubt my single favourite act of any opera, and over the past few days I have played about six different versions, some of them more than once, and each time I am disappointed when it ends - at little over an hour it is way too short. Short, but perfect.
It starts with a storm scene in the orchestra. I was so busy watching the strobe lighting effect that I didn't consciously register the amazing double timpani that comes about halfway through the vorspiel, quite possibly the best few instrumental bars in the whole of the Ring Cycle - except for the first 130+ of Rheingold, obviously. Oh heck, my Ring reviews are going to see me go through a raft of definite absolutes...!
And then the singing starts! At which point I realise that my binoculars, slung round my neck, are still in their case, and I have to, micron by micron, unfasten the velcro and discard the case. Then I realise that through the binoculars the stage looks very far away...yeah, I'm using them upside down. Then I realise that the four pieces of glass are grubby; the lower ones from sticky finger prints, the higher ones from make-up that comes off from around my eyes. So I have to set to and clear them, whilst never taking my eyes off the stage or my ears off the music, especially the singing, especially the singing of Siegmund. The seats in the Amphitheatre at Covent Garden are very closely packed, and any excess arm movements are very annoying to one's neighbours. Fortunately, I am blessed with permanently erect nipples which are very handy for cleaning binoculars. And I'm sure that's way too much information.
I expect the story is familiar to all those who have read thus far but if not, a brief synopsis. Musically, it is very familiar to me. Most of the different recorded versions I possess feature the same singer as Siegmund. And suddenly, my ears tell me that there he is down there on stage. I can see him, which is wonderful enough. Even better, I can hear him! At this point I get very confused about my feelings. This man, whom I hero-worship and thus think about a lot, and find rather attractive. This very nice person I met briefly an hour and a half previously. This Voice which I hear so frequently on CDs and DVDs and mp3s - he's there. I'm scrutinising him closely through my binoculars, thinking how lovely he looks. Watching as he moves round stage, gazing with lust at his lovely thighs. Then I pull myself together. concentrate on the opera. And I then kind of forget all that meta stuff and sit back to enjoy a splendid performance.
I don't think that where I was sitting (P52 of the Amphi) is at all good acoustically. Sadly, I'm in a similar position for my Complete Cycle; however, I soon adjusted to that. I think if you are far back in the Amphi, the sound gets muffled by the overhang and the distance; if you are going to be far back, you are better off on the sides because - I think, I might be talking total rubbish - the sound reflects off the walls. But when I got this ticket a few weeks ago, it was the only one available on the website. For example, the orchestra sounded relatively muffled, which is not how Wagner should sound. That having been said, it's important to note that much of this Act is not heavily orchestrated - it's a kitchen sink drama.
I have seen the production twice before as well as on the TV, and can't really add much to what I previously wrote, except the noir aspect did not bother me this time around. At the time I wrote that, I was unfamiliar with the term 'Furniture Abuse' although I had seen it plenty of time in action. Hunding is responsible for it all in Act I, I think, the most spectacular being the bit where he comes home and flings his axe into the kitchen table. He also knocked over at least one chair. I thought Stephen Milling was well scary as Hunding, I also liked his voice.
I have ambiguous feelings about Sieglinde. Like Mostly Opera, I am very much a fan of Waltraud Meier in this role (and just to clarify, I posted this fact to a newsgroup on Friday night!). So Eva Maria Westbroek was fine in the role. 'Fine' seems like damning with faint praise and isn't meant to be. Again no specific criticisms, vocally pleasant, convincing acting; she acquitted herself well.
And the main character of Act I is Siegmund. This is the point where I get hyper-critical. Plácido Domingo was not perfect. I adored his performance, and yet, I felt compelled to dwell on the minor flaws. This might be partly a function of my acoustically poor seat, and a result of absorbing myself in so many recordings in such a short time. So it's like I can spot each note that is less than perfect. Which is an unfair way to write a review. I think his voice does take some time to warm up; the first twenty minutes or so contain a lot of recitative (I know that that isn't the right technical phrase but whatever...). But those minute criticisms aside, I just loved him so much. Such a beautiful voice, I could have happily listened with my eyes shut. I spent a lot of time with my binoculars to eyes, watching him. Watching him move about stage like an impetuous troubled young man, expressing the anguish and loneliness of this young man called Woeful. At one point I did ponder the athleticism of someone who is rumoured to be 66 years old, bounding around stage, and then I thought - don't dwell on it, that's what he does.
If Act I is my favourite part of the entire Ring Cycle, Scene III is probably my 'Desert Island Bleeding Chunk'. The pinnacle of great operatic writing. Everything works so well. The orchestra is gorgeous, the use of the different instruments to make different sounds, to create mood. The libretto is moving, as Siegmund describes his need for the sword and his emerging love for this woman Sieglinde. I felt privileged to be in that place, listening to this very great singer performing one of his greatest roles, and revelling in the gorgeousness of his voice.
The scene builds musically and dramatically to Winterstürme - I read the other day that Wagner knows exactly when an aria is called for - and this becomes the most gorgeous love story between two lovely characters. During the opening descending arpeggios of Winterstürme, when my heart is racing, I manage noisily to depress the plastic on my water bottle. A depressed water bottle has to un-depress, again noisily, and I was convinced the two 'cracks' rang round the auditorium; certainly interrupted my focus on the aria, requiring a metaphorical self-flagellation. This is I think the sixth time I have heard him sing it live, I can't possibly calculate how many times I have heard him sing it on record, and it surely must be a signature aria
And from Winterstürme, the scene moves on relentlessly, the most amazing music, fantastic interpretation, leading up to the point where Siegmund leaps onto the kitchen table to take down Nothung. I couldn't actually hear the line 'Braut und Schwester bist du dem Bruder' and for a fraction of a nano-second my heart stopped and was in my mouth, and then the most amazing 'So blühe denn, Wälsungen-Blut!' pinned me back in my seat - wow!!! And suddenly Act I was over. Over an hour and it seemed like minutes. Minutes where my attention was focused on what was happening in front of me, and I didn't get the slightest nicotine craving (whereas for, say Boheme, I'm wanting a cigarette after the overture...). My mind and emotions overwhelmed, intelligent thought not possible.
Half an hour and a stiff gin not sufficient to let me pull myself together for Act II, but soon it was time for it to begin. The confrontation between Wotan and Fricka. I was disappointed in Rosalind Plowright; having thought her glorious in this role two years back, I was not so taken this time. John Tomlinson as Wotan was bloody good. Of course, this was the Cycle he was down to do anyway, so I was not in a position to think 'he's not Bryn'. I don't think John has a particularly beautiful voice, and as everybody said after Cycle 1, it's not what it was, quite a lot of strain at the top. And yet, the dramatic portrayal was so total - not just the fact that he was Wotan in his physical and stage acting, but somehow, despite the vocal flaws arising from age, he was, vocally, Wotan to me, so I'm now seriously looking forward to seeing him in Rheingold, Walküre (again), Siegfried and Parsifal.
We had stand-in Brunnhilde, Susan Bullock, on account of Lisa Gasteen having a severe cold. Susan had flown in from (strike-ridden) Paris, arriving at lunch time, and, obviously not having had time to rehearse (that having been said, I refuse to accept that the ROH has no contingency plan for the indisposition of a singer in a major role. Susan Bullock has - reportedly - made quite a name singing Brunnhilde in lesser houses, so I expect that she was probably officially on standby and had walked through the role). Last minute substitute, saving the show, should always get a bit of leeway (for example, when I saw Das Rheingold in January 2005, the very ageing and wobbly Donald McIntyre sang magnificently from the pit whilst Bryn mimed on stage; Cycle 1 Walküre had Stephen Milling miming whilst Clive Bayley sang with a broken arm from side stage). But I can safely say no leeway was required for Susan Bullock. In the opening of Act II she was splendid as the frisky teenaged Brunnhilde. She did more than enough to impress me in the opening scene with Wotan. In the second scene, she was splendid, an excellent foil to John Tomlinson's excellent Wotan.
And there was more to come!
I can't say I care very much for the staging in Act II. It seems that what I assume is Valhalla is an exact replica of Hunding's House in Act I - how likely is that - even with identical furniture and an identical smashed window at the back. I did fall to pondering about the various props - the red rope is deeply significant, as is the model aeroplane. Significant of what I can't quite remember, but I'm sure it will all become a lot clearer when I do my full cycle. Especially when I manage to identify the 'crashed aeroplane' and 'red string' leitmotifs. In any case, I can usually overloook silly sets (as long as they don't obscure the action) if the personenregie is credible, and if the cast - as well as being good singers - are credible actors. We got all that!
Scene 3 sees the return of the twins, and is incredibly moving, Sieglinde in her delirium, the tenderness between them, as they take rest in front of the upturned sofa in Valhalla. I mock that slightly, but despite the apparent silliness, the sofa acting as a windbreak creates this incredible intimacy as they lie together on the floor, with some rolling. If you're not crying by now, you've got a heart of steel (or your binoculars pinned close to your eyes).
The music leading into Act 4 is amazing. Quiet, and you can hear a pin drop in the absorbed auditorium, People forget to cough, we all know what is coming. This music moves us onto a different place, a higher plane. With the stage almost in darkness, we hear Brunnhilde sing "Siegmund! Sieh auf mich! Ich bin's, der bald du folgst." At which point I am destroyed emotionally by such poignant beauty. What follows is so imbued with emotion and was for me the highlight of the entire evening - the Todesverkuendigung, which will be a musical memory that stays with me for ever. Dignity and love vs dignity and duty - extraordinary in every respect. The music is incomparable; it was sung perfectly and portrayed indescribably. It just doesn't get any better than that. And Plácido and Susan were just amazing together. I would pay good money for an illicit in-house recording of that!
And the final scene. Almost an anti-climax after Scene 4, although culminating in a very spectacular death-scene, exemplifying the fine art of tenorial rolling on the ground by its finest exponent, rolling onto the helix-ash tree and rolling off again, and rolling across the stage. Makes it looks so easy! An hour and a half has passed so quickly and I'm wrung out! There had been other instances of tenorial rolling on the ground. (And, for the record, chest hair was also visible), but I can't quite recall sufficiently well to catalogue here.
Fabulous. Bring it on again, I can't wait! I've got Walküre next Sunday, and before that I've got Rheingold, which I love the tone of the entire work. I am so so so excited.
And quite apart from the music and drama, it's great to be with people. As well as Mandy, who I hung round with, I also met Simon, who I often bump into at events, and I was delighted to meet for the first time Mo, with whom I have communicated over the months. Also, a lady whose name sounds like 'View'. It's nice to go alone to an opera but know you're surrounded by friends!
As a PS, when I got home I watched Have I Got News For You, which had earlier recorded. One of the main stories was the resignation of Ming Campbell as leader of the Lib Dems. On age grounds, apparently. Although the Mirror helpfully rubbished that Who says you're too old at 66?, with a helpful list of people born in 1941
Susannah York and Joan Baez (Jan 9) Faye Dunaway (Jan 14) Placido Domingo (Jan 21) Neil Diamond (Jan 24) Paddy Ashdown (Feb 27) Vivienne Westwood (April 8) Ryan O'Neal (April 20) Bob Dylan (May 24) Delia Smith (June 18) Chubby Checker (Oct 3) and Jesse Jackson (Oct 8)
