Author : Jos Hermans
Director Andreas Homoki has gotten a bit stuck with his concept, which is primarily tailored to the movement dramaturgy of a revolving stage. Relying on a unitary set with changing props placed on a revolving stage, produced a picture book that rarely became unpredictable. Emblematic (in the good sense) of Homoki's concept was the grandiose opening scene of Das Rheingold which proved to be both aesthetically pleasing and innovative. Matched by the refreshing actor's direction, it fully legitimized the use of the revolving stage. So to some extent it was to be expected that the production team would not be able to sustain this effort. In fact the Zurich Ring became a rather conventional Ring, illustrative of the modern director's eternal dilemma, the one between necessary interpretative innovation and fidelity to the work. In Zurich, the story is still told as its creator intended, without distortion, without irritating interpretative overlays but with a dose of subtle humor and with recalibrating corrections as seen here in the figure of Siegfried.
Neither Mime nor Siegfried are getting caricatured treatment from Homoki. Mime is more than just a sneaky murderer. A bit faggy and a bit nerdy, he bumps his index finger against the bridge of his spectacles a hundred times. Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke also tries to sing him as beautifully as possible without getting into a stammering staccato. His Mime remains a villain but he also takes on human traits. "Mime is a deeply unhappy human being. He is both perpetrator and victim", Sperrhacke believes who is familiar with the role like the back of his hand. As a result, between foster father and adolescent son, there are touching near-hugging moments to enjoy, such as when Siegfried utters the empathetic "So starb meine Mutter an mir?" Homoki's Siegfried is a sensitive young man rather than an ungracious bully and one wonders where he learned so much spontaneous benevolence. Klaus Floran Vogt does take advantage of it and immediately manages to win over the audience right from his first brotherly embrace of the bear from the forest.
The revolving house with its meter-high wooden paneling (scenography: Christian Schmidt) now has blackened walls. They recall the dystopian environment of Nibelheim. The furniture is upside down : an overturned chesterfield seat serves for the question game, Valhalla's gold coloured conference desk serves the confrontation of Wotan and Siegfried. The revolving stage tries to legitimize itself during the forging of Nothung. One stunt I expected was for Vogt (himself an ex-hornist) to play Siegfried's horn solo himself but it was delivered from the wings. Thunder and lightning again echoed from the speakers during the battle with the Walt Disney dragon. That the forest bird (Rebeca Olvera) performed the same choreographic movements for minutes on end soon got boring. The nature painting of the Waldweben found no scenic translation and the finale around Brünnhilde's sleeping quarters (a chunk of a brain according to my neighbor) was highly predictable. But that he would be thrown onto the bed by his new companion during the finale bars the hero did not expect.
Not everybody will have expected Klaus Florian Vogt to become the biggest attraction among the soloists despite (or because of?) his angelic heroic tenor. But his vocal cords are tenacious and his projection astounds every time you experience him live in the theater. The voice is particularly well focused, cuts through the auditorium like a laser and is undoubtedly the result of a solid technique. The parlando passages that barely require any breath support are easily heard throughout the auditorium. Of course, it is the Schmiedelieder which cause him the most trouble as he is incapable of producing the bronze sound of the baritonal heroic tenor. In the end, he does a fantastic job using whatever resources he has, and in the lyrical parts such as the Waldweben, he is rock solid. Everything he projects into the auditorium is crystal clear. And he manages to keep this up to the end without signs of fatigue.
Nor is Camilla Nylund a high-dramatic soprano, and she may not be singing the role in the larger opera houses. However, she has enough going for her to make "Heil dir, Sonne" blossom and join in on the competition with Vogt. Götterdämmerung will definitely be her greatest challenge.
Wotan is meant to be sung by a high bass (or bass baritone) and not a baritone. For me, this is not a detail. It is as essential in the portrayal of Wotan as the ability to nuance. Nuancing alone does not suffice. Perhaps that is why Fischer-Dieskau, master of nuance, never sang Wotan. Tomasz Koniecnzy has the right type of voice. The delivery is not always crystal clear but in the decisive moments of the part he always tries to adjust for maximum effect. In the third act I found him sounding strained as he seemed to want to fight the impossible battle with the too-loud orchestra. The voice then loses some of its clarity and attractiveness. As a result, his phenomenal rendition of the monologue in Die Walküre remains the highlight of his run as Wotan.
Christopher Purves continues to be a terrific Alberich, singing in perfect German and without losing sight of the consonants. I found David Leigh underperforming in the small role as Fafner. This was rather blandly articulated, without much personality. Will this become the Hagen who will have to carry the black pages of Götterdämmerung? It seems to me that this might turn out to be a miscast. The blindfolded Anna Danik is not an alto but she nevertheless sings a solid mythical-enchanting Erda.
Gianandrea Noseda, by now crowned with the halo of "best conductor of the year," has the Philharmonia Zurich once again stepping in as the actual star of the evening. The orchestral sound remains transparent right into the orchestral tutti. Unfortunately, I still find the orchestra playing too loud. Not continuously of course but the balance regularly tends to fall against the soloists. Many duets get snowed under by this muscular music-making. The great exception is the finale of the third act and I dare suspect that Mrs. Nylund is in it for something. Consequently, it turned out to be one of the coolest finales of Siegfried I have ever heard.
It's just a detail but the timpani managed to frustrate me. Tucked deep under the stage in the crammed orchestra pit, they were inadequately audible in the climax of the prelude to the second act. The orchestral part of the Schmiedelieder sounded at times like a contest between the tremulating flutes and Florian Hatzelmann's tuba. The latter was positioned rather centrally and, unlike the timpanist, was particularly prominently present in the sound image. After all, for the tuba player, this opera is a treat. And so, thanks to Hatzelmann, it also became a treat for the audience. The scorching crescendo from the prelude to the third act remained under control and never became screechingly loud. Just how extreme the orchestra's dynamic bandwidth really is was shown by the insanely beautiful interlude when Siegfried approaches Brünnhilde's rock and which was shrouded in a mystical haze that was almost inaudible. Especially beautiful were all the atmospheric passages and the interventions of the solo instruments.
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