Author : Jos Hermans
The summer of 2022 was the summer of dilettantism. All three major summer festivals had their shameful lows: Satoshi Miyagi's Idomeneo in Aix-en-Provence, Lydia Steyers' "Die Zauberflöte" in Salzburg, Valentin Schwarz' Götterdämmerung in Bayreuth. Lows so unlikely you can hardly believe it. Lows that demonstrated a total lack of empathy for what works and what does not work on an opera stage and could not be attributed solely to inexperience. It's a trend one hopes will not continue.
These catastrophes were entirely in line with what Philippe Jordan said in Kurier last Saturday : "The past two years have confirmed to me that, as far as directing is concerned, our theater is on a fatal path. Rarely in my career have productions made me happy (...) The solution cannot be to continue unperturbed on the well-trodden path of German Regietheater, which is running wild. Conductors work for months, for some works even years, on the score. The best singers spend years preparing for a new major role. But with many, not to say most, current directors, I deplore a real lack of preparation. Taking a theme, making something up around it or updating it in a primitive way is not art in the true sense of the word."
Jordan throws a cudgel into the henhouse that will not have gone unnoticed by many an artistic director. A debate on this, however, is quite impossible. It concerns the split to which every director must find an answer for himself: the eternal tension between fidelity to the work on the one hand and necessary scenic/interpretive innovation on the other. Music criticism must continue to play its role and denounce any dilettantism.
Maybe the Opernhaus Zurich had filled to the brim in this context by spectators expecting to attend a model performance of Die Walküre but Andreas Homoki's treatment of the opera was too conventional in that regard. The playfulness that had characterized Das Rheingold had largely disappeared. This was primarily due to the piece itself, which, with its long duets, does not fit in so well with Homoki's concept that is entirely attuned to the movement dramaturgy of a revolving stage. And while the balance between orchestra and soloists was quasi-perfect in Das Rheingold, here it is the orchestra that too often overpowers the singers.
It soon became clear that the orchestra would be the star of the evening. Gianandrea Noseda and the Philharmonia Zurich find each other completely in this score. Impressive are the double basses. They never sound woolly. The brass section makes music with a loftiness that verges on the sacred, not only in the Todesverkündigung but also when placing and drawing the sword from the ash tree, two reflective moments in this production. Razor-sharp strings are heard in the three preludes. The solo moments are crystal clear. The orchestral sound remains transparent all the way into the orchestral tutti. The orchestra pit accommodates just under 140 musicians, and that proves a world of difference from Der Freischütz the day before in Basel.
Magnus Vigilius sang the Siegmund part from a lectern replacing the unfortunate Eric Cutler who called in sick and had to limit himself to his acting. The unnaturalness of this emergency solution largely broke the magic between the Wälsungen couple. Vigilius, however, was a very valid replacement with a clear, well-projecting voice with a pleasant timbre although without baritone color.
Again, the revolving stage divides the space into four rooms with high white walls: Hunding's hut, Valhalla with its conference desk, Brünnhilde's sleeping quarters, a snowy, wintry forest for Siegmunds announcement of death. Wotan haunts in the background, in a black cloak and hat. His Wälse costume, folded on a bundle and treated with contempt by Fricka, will also become an object of Wotan's self-hatred. As a spectator, he delivers Sieglinde the cup to quench Siegmund's thirst. Sieglinde is no softy and Hunding is no monster. Both Siegmund and Sieglinde stroke the spot of the ash tree where the sword should be but is not yet there. Only during "Der Männer Sippe," Sieglinde's account of her forced marriage, will we see Wotan thrusting the sword into the ash tree in the presence of Hunding's fur-clad clan. Christof Fischesser, sings a suitable Hunding but the timbre is not very bright. Daniela Köhler as Sieglinde possesses an impressively projecting voice with which she already sang Brünnhilde in Leipzig and Bayreuth. She deploys this successfully during the dramatic passages, but she can also produce a slightly unpleasant and penetrating sound. The timbre lacks warmth and the vibrato is sometimes excessive.
Wotan is very taken with the visit of the Valkyries at his gilded table in Valhalla. The confrontation with Fricka does not deter him in the least. Patricia Bardon falls a little short in giving Wotan a piece of her mind with real mezzo power. The second act is dominated by Tomasz Konieczny's classy performance. He not only confirms the excellent impression he had left in Rheingold but also succeeds brilliantly in the litmus test. For any Wotan, that's the monologue. This was very intelligently articulated with every possible nuance, along with perfect diction of the German text. Wotan's monologue then becomes particularly exciting. And by God, this was exciting ! Dynamically and interpretively, this was also highly differentiated. At times he felt so free that it seemed like he was about to engage in spoken dialogue. Noseda loves his orchestra so much that he lets it play too loudly in the climaxes meant for Wotan, passages like "Götternot" and "So nimm meinen Segen, Niblungen-Sohn." Too bad.
Camilla Nylund, in my opinion, has gone a little too ambitious with this Brünnhilde. She is not a high-dramatic Wagner soprano in my opinion, nor is Nina Stemme. But at least her diction is flawless. The hojotoho salvos were flawless, the lyrical parts very beautiful. Nylund is becoming one of the most important Brünnhildes of our time, Noseda believes. We will only be able to judge that at the end of Götterdämmerung. For now, I have not heard anything that seriously points to that.
It was nice to see the spear again claiming a part of the movement dramaturgy, albeit not as pronounced as with Kupfer in Bayreuth. Thunder and lightning could be heard through loudspeakers in the snowy forest where Siegmund and Hunding will meet. It did not bother me at all. Nor that Hunding pushes Siegmund into Wotan's spear.
The ride of the Valkyries is the only section where the revolving stage can be usefully employed in the sense of Rheingold. It became easily the scenic highlight of the evening. The Valkyries evolve from room to room, can form separate groups and fascinate by their great agility. For the rest of the evening, the revolving stage hardly added any value. That the fallen heroes fend for themselves like frightened heroes with toy swords comes close to Homokian slapstick. The Valkyries have so much girl power that they get over the orchestra's wall of sound easily. But the third act also becomes a little exhausting due to the systematically too loud orchestra. During "War es so schmählich," the solo instruments sounded twice as loud as the soprano. This gives an idea of the balance problem and Konieczny will not be able to glorify to the same extent as in the second act.
Brünnhilde's rock is a like a big lump of charcoal that Loge will cause to glow in the final bars which in turn will provide the uneasy feeling that the sleeping Brünnhilde is being grilled. After the farewell, Wotan collapses like a broken man. With his final impressive phrase, "Wer meines Speeres Spitze fürchtet durchschreite das Feuer nie," he rises just above the orchestra. Then he proceeds to the order of the day. The Wälse suit might be going to the dry cleaners. It may come in handy in Siegfried.
Great article. The time has come to find truly great directors, who are 'out of the system.? Far from the Swamp, as one may say. Bayreuth was truly woeful (in attendance). Woke? Wake, Woken? Silly stuff ... sand in the eye of Wagner lovers.