Stream: Götterdämmerung
One of the worst things that can happen when confined to the house is the collapse of the internet. For some reason, our connection to the net on the PC was cut just as I was about to watch the broadcast from the NY Met of the performance of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung recorded on February 11th 2012. Strangely, the signal on my mobile worked, so I watched all two and a half hours of Act 1 there, using my smart speaker to improve the sound. Stopping for a well-earned break, I discovered that my internet had started up again on the PC but, on returning to the opera, I was informed that I was timed out. Thus, this is a review of Act 1 of The Twilight of the Gods. Given that Act 1 is longer than most Puccini operas and covers a vast vocal and psychological range, this is only a minor inconvenience in my new “journalistic” career!
It reminds me of a couple of occasions back in the 80s when I sang with Scottish Opera (I am still waiting for my triumphant return after 35 years, having been forced to cancel Katya Kabanova last year after breaking my back, and having my contract this year to sing in Leoncavallo’s Zingari cancelled due to the Coronavirus saga!) The 1980s were, rather like the 70s, years affected by strikes in all walks of life. We were singing Die Meistersinger in the Edinburgh Playhouse (no Festival Theatre then) and I had just appeared at the end of Act 2 as the Nightwatchman, as the voice of calm after the riot beforehand. As this was my last utterance, I took my curtain call at the end of the act, and repaired to my dressing room as the second interval got under way.
It was a long interval anyway, but it lasted forever, as the orchestra decided to strike at that point and the performance ceased. Alex Gibson had to put away his baton, Norman Bailey, another of my great mentors, didn’t get to sing his huge monologues at the beginning and end of Act 3 and Alberto Remedios didn’t get to sing his several attempts at the Prize Song. The audience dispersed with the mellifluous tones of BBS ringing quietly in their ears.
A year or so later, we were playing Fidelio at the Playhouse when the soprano singing the title role fell ill in the interval. Sadly, the performance had to stop, so, this time, the audience never got to hear those mellifluous tones as my character, Don Fernando, comes on right at the end as a sort of Deus ex Machina. They also never got to hear the great tenor singing Florestan, as he appears only after the interval!
The Met Götterdämmerung continued with the hugely impressive set and production of Robert Lepage familiar from the previous operas. It was enormously big and unwieldy, but a house as grand as the Met can cope with such an outlay and such vast technical complexity. I must say it looked magnificent, and the prologue got underway with ever changing shapes and lighting effects. The often-tedious Norn scene was well played by the 3 singers, all displaying the general truism that Wagner singers are not small people, and their play with the Rope of Fate was largely successful. The scene changes back to the rocky mountain top where we had left Siegfried and Brünnhilde at the end of “Siegfried”.
A small aside here: my keyboard has not revealed its secret to me on how to write German umlauts (I am hopeful that the wizardry of the Edinburgh Music Review will correct this) and it was amusing to see that the Met surtitles had the same problem; every time the name of the opera’s heroine came up, it came up as Br^nhilde!
Deborah Voight and Jay Hunter Morris were splendid in the joyous duet which followed. I was introduced to Debbie at the Met stage door by an American singer friend, and she seemed really nice and unaffected by fame. Her singing was radiant, and we were swept up in Wagner’s magnificent music as Siegfried sails off down the Rhine for fun and adventure, rather bizarrely leaving his new bride on the mountain top. This is never actually explained fully, but it aids the plot enormously!
Siegfried sails down the Rhine on a raft accompanied by Brünnhilde‘s faithful steed Grane, now earthbound like her, after a career of flying across the skies (Google again). The horse is somewhat static but looks fairly lifelike, nodding its head the while, and after more scenery turning and lighting changes, we find ourselves in the Great Hall of the Gibichungs. We meet actual human beings for the first time in the Ring, as we are introduced to Gunther and Gutrune, brother and sister, unmarried, and Gunther’s half-brother (and half dwarf) Hagen, Alberich’s son (operatic licence allows for the unlikely coincidence!).
Gunther is played by the SCOTTISH baritone, Iain Paterson, another fine singer largely unknown in Scotland! Gutrune was Wendy Bryn Harmer an American soprano, with a lovely voice, hampered by an unflattering costume. Hagen was Hans -Peter König, who had appeared previously as Fafner and Hunding. He must have a very good agent, as to be singing all the bass parts in the Ring at the Met must have been fairly lucrative. He is a big man with a big voice. I had seen him around the Met canteen, and, although I am no dwarf, this guy was Massive! Huge stature, enormous head -just a giant. Wagner singers, particularly the basses, tend to be bigger than average. I have to remind myself when I meet these fellows, that they certainly couldn’t sing and record baroque music or sing song recitals, as I have done. They make squillions of dollars though! As I haven’t!
The scene in Gibich’s Hall was well done, as Hagen runs rings (metaphorically) round his high born family, persuading Gunther that he can use Siegfried to win the otherwise unobtainable Brünnhilde for himself and Gutrune that she can win Siegfried using the magic potion he has which makes the drinker fall in love with the first person he sees. Gunther’s vanity is his downfall, and Paterson plays this cowardly and self-important man excellently, singing beautifully throughout. His striking resemblance to Danny Kaye was not a hindrance, albeit amusing!
The extraordinary coincidence of Siegfried’s arrival is covered as best it can by the production, and the scene is very well acted, although 21st Century mores cannot easily accept the complete control over the women in the story by the men, the brother giving away his sister like a domestic animal to the previously unknown hero. All we can do these days is accept that times were different then. The blood brotherhood duet was very well sung, though Siegfried’s sword Nothung still looked like a toy, and the idea that they might bring forth blood with its edge was comical. It was a strange lack of attention to detail.
Siegfried and Gunther sail back to Brünnhilde (the hero’s memory has been wiped by the magic potion, a detail which will prove vital but controversial to the plot later), leaving Hagen to sing his great Watch scene as he sits in the Gibichung Hall, foreseeing some of the future. This is one of the bass repertoire’s greatest pieces, and indeed it was what I sang to the director of the Seattle Opera to get the understudy role of Hagen. I had sung it in CBTO’s historic cut-down Ring in 1990/91 and it became one of my major audition arias. Needless to say Hans-Peter K sang it magnificently.
We return to Brünnhilde‘s rock and she is overjoyed to see her sister Waltraute flying in on her winged horse. She hopes for forgiveness from her father, but Waltraute tells her that Wotan has returned to Valhalla, hopeless and broken, waiting for the End (as are many non-Wagner afficionados by this time). The only thing that will save the world and the Gods is for Brunnhilde to return the stolen ring to the Rhinemaidens (Google time again), thus breaking the curse on it (Google), but she is so overpowered by her love for Siegfried that she cannot see what she must do, and sends Waltraute away in despair.
Waltroud Meier was the fabulous mezzo singing this role, and she used all her great experience to make it one of the best scenes of the evening. My first acquaintance with her was in Bayreuth in 1990, where she sang Kundry in Parsifal. I had just won the UK Wagner Society award that year, and the prize was a long weekend at Wagner’s famous theatre in Bavaria, where I had free tickets for Lohengrin, Flying Dutchman and Parsifal. Tickets are like gold dust for this amazing festival, and I was enormously fortunate to be there. Her Kundry was outstanding, and I have always admired her singing.
Soon after Waltraute rides off, Brünnhilde sees and hears the flames rise up as she ecstatically prepares to welcome her lover back from his adventures. She is horrified to see another man in his place, Gunther. This is of course Siegfried disguised under the magic helmet, the Tarnhelm, here looking sadly like some rather sordid gold gusset, and the awful truth dawns on Brunnhilde that all her wild desires and imaginings are lost. Siegfried sings in a lower register to simulate the baritone of Gunther, and wrenches the ring from her finger to achieve his dominance. He sends Brünnhilde off into the cave to prepare for their first night together, but reverts to his own tenor range to swear to Gunther, cowering down the mountain, that Nothung will preserve his new bride’s honour.
And there I have to leave my review, as the internet intervened to prevent me seeing the end. Perhaps it will all end happily ever after. Siegrfried and Gutrune will have many children, and Gunther and Brünnhilde will rule wisely over the jolly Gibichung tribe by the banks of the Rhine. Hagen will get over his disappointment at failing to obtain the ring, and the curse will expire over the centuries. Wotan will still sit brooding in Valhalla over his broken spear, drinking himself into eternity.
OR NOT.
