I have this theory that the ultimate way to judge a tenor is by his ability to fall to, and roll about on the stage floor*. When I watch Plácido on DVD and, of course, on stage, I pay particular attention to his flinging himself around the floor of the stage.
Yesterday, at Die Walküre, I tried eespecially hard not just to notice but also to note. Even so I am not sure that I have a full and comprehensive list. I am assuming that the reader is reasonably familiar with Acts I and II of this opera, and isn't too fussed about me pinpointing exact places in the libretto.
In Act I, when Sieglinde is going on about how this stranger with his hat pulled down over one eye turned up at her wedding and planted this sword in the ash tree - and suddenly - Nothung appears, suspended high above the kitchen table, on the double-helix that dominates the stage, Siegmund falls to his knees to gaze in wonder, knowing - hoping - that this is the sword his father promised him in his hour of need.
Later, after Siegmund's glorious Winterstüre and Sieglinde's beautiful Du bist der Lenz, they are in the ubiquiotous Covent Garden wonky box suspended above the stage, under the aeroplane propeller symbolising repressed female sexuality, and are embracing in the realisation of their new-found love, and he sinks to his knees and buries his head in her thigh. Then, a bit later on, in the thrill of young love she is reclining on the dramatically significant chaise longue. He is on his knees beside her, then he joins her on the chaise longue, and then later, again he is on his knees on the floor.
As Act I reaches a climax he leaps onto a chair and onto the kitchen table in order to pull Nothung out of the ash tree. I did think for a tiniest split of a second that he might lose his footing, but he recovered. But his leap from the table to the chair to the floor was even more precarious, but thankfully, he made it...! (For those that keep score of such things, the chair was knocked over in the process).
In Act II, after Wotan's long monologue, Siegmund and Sieglinde return, her fleeing from him in her shame. By hauling themselves along the red rope strung out across the stage, they find themselves in front of the up-turned chaise longue and somehow, they are on the floor. At the end of that scene Sieglinde finally flees, and Siegmund tries to follow her, but instead flings himself from standing to lying on the floor in one easy move, head first, I think, and then lies motionless throughout the long and beautiful orchestral interlude that precedes Brunnhilde's return to announce his fate. His fate is, of course, to be butchered by Hunding. Obviously, when a man gets an axe in his stomach, it is necessary to collapse onto the helix/ash-tree roots that lie more or less horizontal about a foot above stage, to pause momentarily on the helix, and then roll from that height onto the stage and over and over about twice, rolling down stage to come to a halt at the feet of Hunding.
I was extremely satisfied with these manifestations of tenorial falling-to/rolling-on the ground, as demonstrated by the consummate performer of such moves. In fact, I was utterly thrilled at a perfect display of what I adore. I have to say, though, that in the Sexagenarian Ladder Climbing Contest which forms such an important part of this Saga Ring, he comes a distinct third to Messrs Langridge and Tomlinson.
* obviously, I don't really mean this - it's voice first...!
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