Tag: Ring Cycle

Matthew Polenzani @ Zankel Hall

Above: tenor Matthew Polenzani, photographed by Fay Fox

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday February 24th, 2019 – This afternoon’s program by tenor Matthew Polenzani at Zankel Hall had been a red-letter date on my calendar ever since Carnegie Hall announced their 2018-2019 season nearly a year ago. To say that the performance surpassed my highest expectations would be an understatement.

Over the years since Mr. Polenzani first came on the New York operatic scene in 1997, he has given me some of my fondest musical memories. Of particular joy was his portrayal of David in Wagner’s DIE MEISTERSINGER, which I saw four times. Matching his sunny – and very human – portrayal of the young apprentice to his sweetly ingratiating lyrical singing, Mr. Polenzani won the hearts of audiences each time. Those performances, musically sublime under Maestro Levine’s heartfelt leadership, were some of my happiest times at the opera.

Since then, Mr. Polenzani has had great success in Mozart, bel canto, and French opera at The Met where his credentials are approaching the 400-performance mark; earlier this month, he produced a sonic miracle in his aria in Tchaikovsky’s IOLANTA. And we will soon hear him as Mozart’s Tito and Verdi’s Duke of Mantua. More red-letter dates!

Today’s recital opened with a selection of lieder by Franz Schubert in which Mr. Polenzani and the renowned pianist Julius Drake formed a treasurable musical alliance. The two men walked out onto the Zankel Hall stage to a truly warm and long-lasting applause.

From the opening “Nachtstück” – an old man’s acceptance of impending death – Mr. Polenzani showed himself to be among the most appealing and compelling interpreters of German lieder now before the public. The words flow beautifully, and without fussiness, whilst the multi-hued sound and the incredible skill with which he runs the gamut of the piano/pianissimo spectrum, make each song truly an absorbing experience.

Two Spring-songs follow: “Im Frühling” (with Mr. Drake’s dramatic piano intervention, and the singer’s incredibly sustained softness towards the end), and the familiar “Frühlingsglaube“. “Der Einsame” (The Recluse…it could be my theme song!) is somewhat jaunty in tone, and has an optimistic outlook. Then the well-beloved “Ständchen” so persuasively phrased by the tenor and finely articulated by the pianist. The concluding “Im Abendrot“, with its lovely piano introduction, sings like a prayer.

Above: pianist Julius Drake

Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte, the composer’s only true song cycle, strings six poems by Alois Jeitteles together in an uninterrupted flow of song. Mssrs. Polenzani and Drake perfectly captured the songs’ many poetic references to the natural world, which the singer mentally relates to the finding and eventual loss of an idealized lover. Mr. Polanzani’s golden tone, the naturalness of his way with words, and the continuing enchantment of his softest notes kept us riveted; and Mr. Drake matched the singer, nuance for nuance, in their marvelous performance.

Johannes Brahms’ Zigeunerlieder, Op. 103, brought forth mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnson Cano (above). This set of gypsy songs served the singer as a prologue to her role as the gypsy lass Zefka in Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Vanished. In a striking deep blue gown, Ms. Johnson Cano gave a vivid performance, in which Mr. Drake, at the Steinway, was a perfect accomplice.

Ms. Johnson Cano has the ideal voice, temperament, and personality for these songs; her gift for musical characterization is spot on, and is reflected in her stage manner: she plays the diva one moment and the loving lady the next. Singing with her warm, inviting mezzo timbre, Ms. Johnson Cano was particularly lovely in the cycle’s penultimate song, “Kommt der manchmal in den Sinn” where, at the words “Täusch mich nicht, verlass mich nicht…” the melody takes up an air of longing which the singer conveyed with expressive vocal colours. In the Brahms, as all evening, Julius Drake’s playing was so inviting.

Following the interval, Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Vanished, was given a mesmerizing performance by Mr. Polenzani, Ms. Johnson Cano, and three offstage singers: Kathleen O’Mara, soprano, and mezzo-sopranos Marie Engle and Megan Grey. At the piano, Julius Drake played this music – which might be described as a chamber opera – with a vast range of colour and brilliant rhythmic clarity.

This is the story of a young village boy who fell in love with a gypsy beauty and abandoned his safe and simple life to join her in her wanderings. Originally thought to have been drawn from the boy’s discarded diary, the story was eventually discovered to have been written by Josef Kalda, a accomplished author from Prague. In his 62nd year, Janáček himself fell under the spell of a much younger ‘gypsy’ woman; their relationship was revealed in a series of passionate letters, published in the 1980s.

Julius Drake’s phenomenal artistry was a key element in this fascinating work; one hardly needs an orchestra with this gentleman at the Steinway. His playing again superbly matched Mr. Polenzani’s singing: full of passion, poetry, intensity and natural beauty of expression.

The first several songs of The Diary of One Who Vanished are given over to the tenor: what a great pleasure to hear Mr. Polenzani and Mr. Drake here in a long stretch of music-making of such evocative qualities. Ms. Johnson Cano then appears, singing splendidly, with a bewitching, smouldering quality to her lower range. An offstage trio of voices – Mlles. O’Mara, Engle, and Grey – produced a lovely blend that sometimes brought to mind Wagner’s Rhinemaidens, or Strauss’s ARIADNE nymphs.

The finale is an extended sing for the tenor, again with Mr. Drake playing grandly. From lyrical outpourings, the music turns to a hymn of farewell sung by the boy about to take leave of his homeland. Here Mr. Polenzani unleashed hall-filling power; the audience could scarcely restrain themselves from applauding until the last echoes from the Steinway had faded.

At the end of the Janáček, the sold out hall was the scene of a tumultuous standing ovation. As the artists came forward to bow, the audience clearly wanted more music. But what sort of encore could follow such a performance? After a long delay, during which the applause redoubled, Mr. Polenzani and Mr. Drake came onstage again.

The tenor spoke of the difficulty of finding the right piece to sing after the drama of the Janáček. In the course of his travels, he said, the most-requested song was the universally beloved “O Danny Boy‘. Taking up the thrice-familiar melody, which has been sung by everyone from Ernestine Schumann-Heink to Johnny Cash, Mr. Polenzani gave the most ravishing performance of it I could ever hope to hear. The words – so simple and moving – came from the heart, and the colours of the voice were haunting. People around me were holding back tears as Mr. Polenzani took the final ascending phrase of the song to an exquisitely sustained final note than hung magically on the air.

~ Oberon

February 24, 2019
Great Performers: Russian National Orchestra

Above: conductor Kirill Karabits; photo by Konrad Kwik

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Wednesday February 20th, 2019 – The Russian National Orchestra’s highly anticipated visit to Lincoln Center’s Great Performers series with an all-Rachmaninoff concert drew a big and appreciative crowd, filled with many Russian-speakers who were buzzing about Mikhail Pletnev’s performance. Mr. Pletnev, star pianist and new conductor, was the founding conductor of the orchestra in the early 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union found many Soviet orchestras starved for money. Pletnev, pulling in financial backing from the West, formed the RNO and hired many leading musicians from the now former USSR’s other orchestras, creating something of an all-Star ensemble. It remains to this day Russia’s only privately-backed orchestra. Maestro Pletnev has since stepped back from full-time conducting duties and on Wednesday, February 20th appeared as soloist in Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Piano Concerto. Kirill Karabits, who has gained much attention as chief conductor of Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, was on the podium.

Pletnev entered to a warm welcome from the audience, dressed all in black, looking very Russian dour. The playing was anything but, however. The brief solo introduction, a series of dramatic chords before the orchestra enters with its famous first theme, showcased Pletnev’s strong, muscled tone. The muscle, however, is not lacking in musicality and lyricism. The orchestra entered with a very slow Moderato. I wondered how the choice of tempo would be able to sustain the musical line without breaking.

At first both Pletnev and Karabits (via RNO) managed fine. Pletnev’s beautiful control of the piano’s dynamics, the legato of the playing, never ceding control to the orchestra, but also never showcasing himself for the sake of showboating, he seemed to be playing a concerto with piano, not just for it. This beautiful integration of sound, the marriage between the instruments, was lovely to behold. But as the movement began to build to its climax and the drama began to build, the slow tempo caught up to the proceedings. Pletnev suddenly felt muzzled, needing to take extended breaks between chords that are usually played together so that the orchestra could catch up. Pletnev seemed to desperately want to move forward and felt restrained; it created an uncomfortable pull and push between orchestra and conductor as the movement ended. The concerto’s famous Adagio sostenuto was lovely – piano and orchestra finally breathing as one, and the thrilling final Allegro showcased Pletnev’s effortlessly perfect finger work. The audience exploded with satisfaction and Pletnev gave a fascinating performance of Scarlatti’s Sonata in D minor, K.9, making it sound like ringing bells.

Above: pianist Mikhail Pletnev; photo by Alexey Molchanovsky

All ears were now on Kirill Karabits for Rachmaninoff’s ever-fresh Symphonic Dances, Op. 45, his final composition and one he considered his best. Written in 1941 while Rachmaninoff lived on Long Island, NY, the piece was dedicated to The Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy (who gave the world premiere performance in 1941) and intended to be a ballet choreographed by Mikhail Fokine. Alas, Fokine died before the project could be brought to fruition. (It has been choreographed by several leading choreographers since, including Peter Martins for New York City Ballet.)

Maestro Karabits, handsome, trim and in a perfectly fitted suit, is a fun conductor to watch, his wide, dramatic and balletic gestures helping to propel the music. The opening dance, Non allegro, was very dramatic with its driving, sharp rhythms nicely articulated; the mournful saxophone solo – and the other wind instruments – shone in the mournful sections of the movement – before the dramatic, Stravinskian rhythms return – only to dissipate like Loge’s Fire Music from Wagner’s Die Walküre, the first time I’ve made the musical connection between those two sections. The boozy, mysterious waltz of the second movement (when the Symphonic Dances were still a ballet, this was called “Midnight”), a cousin to Ravel’s La valse, sashayed nicely with its weird combination of sexiness and creepiness. The dramatic final movement, with its extensive quotations of Rachmaninoff’s favorite leitmotif, the Dies irae, was a thrilling, thundering conclusion to a perfectly paced performance. This was perhaps the most exciting performance of the Symphonic Dances I’ve heard live, so kudos to the superb Russian National Orchestra and maestro Karabits.

The audience shared my enthusiasm and received 3 encores: a ravishing Rachmaninoff Vocalise, The Russian Sailors’ Dance from Glière’s The Red Poppy, and Lysenko’s Overture to Taras Bul’ba.

~ Ben Weaver

February 21, 2019
Irene Dalis as Fricka

The great dramatic mezzo-soprano Irene Dalis in the scene of confrontation between Fricka and Wotan from Act II of Wagner’s DIE WALKURE:

Irene Dalis as Fricka – WALKURE – w Birgit Nilsson & Otto Edelmann – Leinsdorf cond – Met bcast 1961

From her 1957 debut there, Irene Dalis sang some 275 performances with the Metropolitan Opera Company – in New York City and on tour – during her twenty-year Met career. Her greatest roles were The Nurse in DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN and Amneris in AIDA. In 1969, her electrifying performance of Verdi’s Egyptian princess at a concert performance at the Sheep Meadow, Central Park, drew an estimated crowd of 50,000; Dalis’s super-charged singing in the Judgement Scene evoked a thunderous ovation.

Following her retirement from singing, Irene Dalis founded Opera San Jose, which she ran with great success for over two decades.

In August 2007, I wrote an appreciation of Irene Dalis, which she eventually found and read; she sent me a lovely message of thanks.

~ Oberon

December 27, 2018
Forgotten Voices: Rudolf Ritter

I came upon the voice of Rudolf Ritter by chance while sampling recordings of different tenors in the music of Verdi’s Otello.

Rudolf Ritter – Otello’s Death ~ OTELLO – in German

Following service in the Austro-Hungarian army (1898-1908), Rudolf Ritter studied singing at the Vienna Music Academy. In 1910 he made his debut at the Volksoper in Vienna, where he sang until 1913; he then joined the Hofoper in Stuttgart, where he made a name for himself as a leading artist for twenty years, singing in world premieres by Braunfels and Zemlinsky as well as the standard repertory.

Ritter joined a touring group, the German Opera Company, in 1923. In North America, he sang at Chicago and in Kienzl’s “Der Evangelimann“ in New York City. He appeared at the Bayreuth Festival from 1924-1930 as Siegfried and Tannhäuser, and in 1926 he scored a major success with performances in South America.

From 1929-1931 season, Ritter was again touring North America with the German Opera Company, along with soprano Johanna Gadski. He made guest appearances at London’s Covent Garden, the Paris Opéra, Vienna Staatsoper, and Zurich. In 1927 at the Zoppot Festival, he sang Siegfried in “Götterdämmerung“.

Rudolf Ritter retired from the stage in 1933, settling at Stuttgart where he taught and coached. He was married to the pianist Gret Hein. He passed away in 1966.

Ritter’s rounded, steady tone sounds really good in Wagner:

Rudolf Ritter – Allmächtǵer Vater ~ RIENZI

Rudolf Ritter – Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond ~ WALKURE

~ Oberon

December 25, 2018
Mignon Dunn as Dalila

In the aftermath of the opening night performance of a new SAMSON ET DALILA at The Met, the folks on The List and at Parterre are discussing favorite interpreters of the opera’s title roles; the name of Mignon Dunn came up.

Mignon was a great favorite of mine and her performances in such roles as Laura in GIOCONDA, Fricka in the RING Cycle, Anna in TROYENS, Brangaene in TRISTAN UND ISOLDE, and Ortrud in LOHENGRIN are among my fondest operatic memories.

In 1985, I had the good fortune to see Mignon Dunn as Dalila in a production by the Connecticut Opera Association at The Bushnell in Hartford. She and her co-stars, Jon Frederic West and Charles Karel, sang powerfully whilst doing what they could dramatically in an old-style, rather campy setting.

In the course of my two-year project of rescuing music from my vast cassette collection, I was able to preserve this recording of Mignon singing Dalila’s opening aria from Act II with piano from a radio program in 1975 which I taped off the air:

Mignon Dunn – Amour viens aider ma faiblesse – SAMSON & DALILA – Met Marathon 1975

I’ll be seeing the Met’s new SAMSON ET DALILA twice in the coming weeks: once with each cast.

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 28, 2018
Audrey Stottler Has Passed Away

September 15th, 2018 – I’ve learned of the death of Audrey Stottler (above), who I met in 2003 when she was in New York City to cover – and sing a single performance of – the Dyer’s Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN at The Met.

Audrey came in the opera room at Tower Records where I was working at the time, and my boss Bryan and I chatted her up. Bryan had seen her as Turandot at Virginia Opera in 1993. and I’d seen her 2002 Met Turandot – a role she sang worldwide – and we were looking forward to the FRAU. She was most gracious during our long conversation.

Audrey had a notable success as the Dyer’s Wife; I recall being especially impressed by her juicy upper tones, the unusual richness of her lower range, and the sense of lyricism in her singing.

This scene from WALKURE displays her vocal attributes quite well:

Audrey Stottler – Die Walküre ~ Der manner sippe

And this is thrilling, grand-scale Wagner singing:

Audrey Stottler – Tristan und Isolde ~ Isolde’s Narration & Curse

At the time of her unexpected death, Audrey was running a popular voice studio in Minneapolis.

Bryan took this photo of me with Audrey the day we met her. There are some lovely tributes to her on Norman Lebrecht’s blog.

~ Oberon

September 14, 2018
The Colón RING

Above: the Valkyries on the field of battle in the Teatro Colón’s abbreviated RING Cycle; Maestro Roberto Paternostro is on the podium

~ Author: Oberon

In 2012, the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires presented the first performances of Cord Garben’s reduction of Richard Wagner’s monumental RING DES NIBELUNGEN; Garben cut the usual run-time of the complete Cycle from fifteen to seven hours, and meant his version to be performed in a single day. I’ve been watching it on DVD, finding it by turns intriguing and maddening.

The production was to have been directed by Katharina Wagner, great-grand-daughter of the composer. In the documentary film that is part of the boxed DVD set, Ms. Wagner arrives at Buenos Aires to start rehearsals and finds that the theatre is behind schedule in the creating of the physical production: sets, costumes, and wigs are not ready. Ms. Wagner decides she cannot work under such conditions. She flies back to Germany, but then returns to Buenos Aires…only to resign from the production.

Enter one of La Fura dels Baus’s director/choreographers: Valentina Carrasco. Described by soprano Linda Watson, who plays Brünnhilde, as a ‘spitfire fireball’, Ms. Carrasco and her team take matters in hand and – in just over a month of rehearsals – get the Colón RING stage-worthy. Meanwhile, there have been problems on the musical end of things, too: some of the originally-cast singers have dropped out, and conductor Roberto Paternostro becomes frustrated with the musicians of the Colón orchestra; the Maestro walks out of a rehearsal, calling their playing “a farce”. Somehow it all comes together, and the production is a hit – at least musically.

Ms. Carrasco’s key idea is introduced early in Rheingold; the Rhinemaidens appear to be nannies guarding their treasure: a baby. Bad idea? I thought so at first. But then, babies represent the future…the hopes and dreams of mankind. Alberich steals the ‘golden child’, and by scene three, the Nibelheim scene, he has set up a ‘baby factory’ to increase his ‘wealth’: in a combination torture chamber and nursery, women are continuously and forcibly impregnated, their babies cruelly snatched from them and kept under the eye of sinister nurses. Other pregnant women are seized on the streest and enslaved, giving the term “forced labor” a fresh meaning. It’s a hellish scene, reminding us of the horrors of THE HANDMAID’S TALE.

As the Cycle evolves, we continue to see children as pawns; separated from their parents by the State, the shadow of Trump’s Amerika looms large. And in Siegfried, Fafner keeps some kids in a cage. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies…

But what about the story-telling? The musical flow? In Rheingold, the narrative is fairly clear, but the characters of Donner, Froh, and – unkindest cut of all – Erda are eliminated altogether. Jukka Rasilainen in his military uniform with medals and gold sash, is a Perónist Wotan. And Simone Schröder, as Fricka, wears her hair in one of Eva Perón’s iconic styles. The musical cuts are scattered; in interviews, the singers speak frequently of the production’s biggest challenge: remembering what has been deleted and what your next line will be.

There’s some really good, characterful singing in Rheingold: Andrew Shore brings with him a sterling reputation as Alberich on the world’s stages, and both Mr. Rasilainen and Ms. Schröder are fine. The Rhinemaidens – Silja Schindler, Uta Christina Georg, and Bernadett Fodor – fare well on a tricky set that includes a water pool and a sandbox; I like Ms. Fodor’s voice especially. Wotan follows Gollum’s example: to get the ring, he bites or hacks off Andrew Shore’s finger with the ring wrapped around it.

Stefan Heibach is a lyrical Loge; he wears a fedora, raincoat, and sunglasses. Kevin Conners excels as Mime – later, in Siegfried, he will excel his own excellence. The giants are impressively sung by Daniel Sumegi (Fasolt) and Gary Jankowski (Fafner), the latter confined to a wheelchair. They are accompanied by a band of young thugs, some wearing soccer togs. I half expected to see Klaus Barbie flitting in and of the Nibelheim torture chamber.

Musically, the first act of Walküre, one of the most perfect acts in the entire operatic repertoire, is hacked apart. The arranger is especially unkind to Sieglinde, which is unfortunate as the role is very finely taken by soprano Marion Ammann. Ms. Ammann is an excellent singing-actress, gamely entering into the director’s concept of the role: she is indeed her husband’s ‘property’, for Hunding has kept her tethered to the floor on a short rope with a rough noose around her neck. She has been unable to stand erect for such a long time that, when Siegmund sets her free, she can barely walk. Ms. Ammann’s vocalism makes the substantial cuts in ‘Der Männer Sippe’ all the sadder. Stig Andersen, remembered for his Met Siegfrieds in the year 2000, is an excellent companion to Ms. Ammann. The pulling of the sword from the tree seems like an after-thought here. Daniel Sumegi, a paunchy Hunding, wears a wife-beater t-shirt. He sounds creepy, and he plays the character as truly revolting. We feel no shred of sympathy for this Hunding.

Linda Watson as Brünnhilde doesn’t sing ‘Ho-Jo-To-Ho‘ to open Act II of Walküre; Cord Garben simply jumps from Wotan’s fantastic opening lines to mid-Wotan/Fricka duet. Ms. Schröder loses a lot of Fricka’s music but does well with that which is left to her.

Mr. Rasilainen navigates the cuts in Wotan’s monologue successfully – all too soon, it’s “Das ende.” Ms. Watson’s singing of the passage where Brünnhilde weighs Wotan’s new instructions is excellent, and beautifully filmed. The pursued Wälsungs arrive, and Ms. Ammann is really thrilling in this scene of Sieglinde’s guilt and her love for her brother; her singing is expressive and passionate. Mr. Andersen is moving in Siegmund’s lines throughout Act II. The weight of the world is on him; all he wants is to be with Sieglinde. He and Ms. Watson are very effective in the Todesverkündigung (‘Annunciation of Death‘) which is staged with heartfelt simplicity. Now the cuts come fast and furious. Hunding fells Siegmund, then lets his thugs kick the hapless man to death.

As Walküre moves to its conclusion, the production becomes truly affecting. The parting of Wotan and Brünnhilde is heart-rendingly intimate and beautifully acted by Ms. Watson and Mr. Rasilainen. After Wotan has kissed away his daughter’s divinity, she sinks to the floor. White-clad angels appear and surround her slumbering form with candles – a gorgeous image:

As the Magic Fire music plays, Mr. Rasilainen as Wotan removes his military jacket and other signs of his power and command; he almost seems to age before our eyes. As the music of Walküre reaches its solemn end, he walks slowly away from the glowing Valkyrie rock: the king of the gods is now the Wanderer.

As the applause welcoming Maestro Paternostro back to the podium for Siegfried fades, someone in the audience shouts “Viva Wagner!” I was feeling about the same at this point.

This Siegfried is populated by convincing singing-actors. Cord Garben’s cuts are judicious in this opera, probably the most difficult of the four to compress. We get just enough of the Siegfried/Mime banter, with tenors Leonid Zakhozhaev and Kevin Conners very much at home as hero and dwarf respectively. Much is made of the fact that Mime is both Siegfried’s father and mother – Mr. Conners dons a blonde drag wig to accentuate his maternal characteristics. Nothung is discussed – and later re-forged – but the riddle scene for the Wanderer and Mime is completely excised.

The horn-call and solo serve as in interlude, leading us to Fafner’s cave, where Act II centers on Siegfried and Fafner. The wheelchair-bound, drowsy giant is surrounded by his entourage while his child-slaves observe the action from behind bars. There’s a rumble; Siegfried wounds Fafner. Their ensuing dialogue is excellently voiced by Mr. Zakhozhaev and by basso Fernando Rado, who is credited as the Siegfried Fafner, even thought the fellow in the wheelchair looks a lot like Gary Jankowski, who sang the role in Rheingold.

In one of the production’s serious visual lapses, the Forest Bird appears as a furry green muppet. Silly. Wotan wanders in, aged and weary; Siegfried breaks his grandfather’s spear by hand, sending the old man on his way.

The candles are still glowing around Brünnhilde’s rock. Fortunately, the opera’s dumbest line – “Das ist kein mann!” – is cut. The ecstatic genius of Wagner at “Heil dir, sonne!” finds Linda Watson at her best; she maintains peak form as cuts carry her directly to “Ewig war ich“. Brünnhilde resists, so Mr. Zakhozhaev woos her with ardent, lyrical singing. Capitulation: “Radiant love! Laughing death!” Ms. Watson falls short of the high-C. It doesn’t matter. Together, the lovers blow out the last remaining candle. The audience bursts into massive applause.

One of my favorite RING scenes, The Norns, is cut altogether. Instead, Götterdämmerung opens with the Dawn Duet; the couple seem to be living in a balconied duplex apartment in the low-rent district. Both singers are excellent here, mining the lyricism of their vocal lines music and well-supported by Maestro Paternostro and the orchestra. Ms. Watson and Mr. Zakhozhaev have this music in their blood; the soprano creates another vocal high-point as she calls on the gods to witness her love for Siegfried.

At the Gibichung Hall, Mr. Sumegi is a chilling Hagen, and he has Gutrune (Sabine Hogrefe) and Gunther (Gerard Kim) completely under his thumb. Mr. Shore’s Alberich briefly menaces Hagen. Then Zakhozhaev/Siegfred strolls in; Sumegi/Hagen is impressive as he describes how the Tarnhelm works. Mr. Zakhozhaev sings the toast to his wife expressively, but he nearly chokes on the polluted potion. Once drugged, he kisses Gutrune passionately. Siegfried’s blood-brotherhood with Gunther is mentioned almost in passing, and the two men are off to secure Brünnhilde for Gunther as Ms. Hogrefe’s cuddly, adorable Gutrune anticipates her union with Siegfried. Mr. Sumegi’s deals darkly with Hagen’s Watch.

As the Waltraute scene is cut entirely, we remain at the Gibichung Hall; Brünnhilde, dressed in a very odd, constraining bridal gown, is led in like a dog by Gunther. The whole business of “…how did you get that ring?…” is quickly dispatched, and Brünnhilde goes wild, ripping off her wedding gown and over-turning furniture. There’s no “Oath”…just Brünnhilde, Gunther, and Hagen plotting in an exciting trio.

On a golf course, Siegfried practices his swing; no Rhinemaidens here, but some caddies instead. Jarred back to reality by another potion, Siegfried extols Brünnhilde. Hagen attacks him with a golf club. Mr. Zakhozhaev sings his tender farewell to his true wife. He dies a slow death, bleeding from the mouth. During the Funeral March, his body lies alone on the stage until at last he is borne away.

In the scene of Gutrune awaiting her groom’s return, Ms. Hogrefe is quite touching; she screams when Hagen’s deceit is revealed. Hagen bullies his siblings, finally fighting with – and killing – Gunther. Brünnhilde arrives, and explains the facts to Gutrune; the set slowly turns as Gunther is carried off.

Brünnhilde is alone with Siegfried’s body. The Immolation Scene, very effective in Ms. Watson’s interpretation, becomes an intimate rather than a public ceremony: the soprano’s singing of “Wie sonne lauter...” touched me deeply; as she sang, ‘angels’ covered Siegfried with a red shroud. A vision of Wotan appears, and he looks down on how things have played out; at “Ruhe, ruhe, du Gott!” the now-powerlessgod slowly withdraws.

The Rhinemaidens enter and receive the ring from Brünnhilde; Ms. Watson is exciting, polishing off her singing to powerful effect before joining Siegfried in his shroud. The angels re-appear with candles which they arrange around the lovers’ bodies. Now the populace fill the stage; the baby is restored to the Rhinemaidens, and all of the children who had been stolen from their parents rush on to be reunited as loving families. They stand, like humanity in all its glory, looking out into the future. It made me cry, actually, while also making me disgusted with the sadists who currently hold sway over our beloved country; may the gods deliver us from evil.

Linda Watson receives a mammoth ovation – she has won me over in the course of the presentation – and Mr.Zakhozhaev is strongly hailed, rightly so. Maestro Paternostro, all of the singers, and indeed everyone on the musical side of things are heartily cheered. The production team are booed, but – while not everything in their concept worked – they saved the day, and much of what they brought forth was thought-provoking, effective…and timely.

One of the most fun bits in the documentary about the preparation for the production is a brief scene in which soprano Sabine Hogrefe (who stepped in for Christine Goerke in a Met performance as Elektra earlier this year) and tenor Leonid Zakhozhaev are rehearsing the final passage of the duet that closes Siegfried. Ms. Hogrefe flings out a bright high-C. At that moment in time, the two singers don’t know if the production will actually happen; they are simply swept along by the irresistible glory of Wagner’s music.

~ Oberon

July 26, 2018
Annuciation of Death

Brünnhilde (soprano Linda Watson, above) appears as a vision to Siegmund – announcing his imminent death – in Act II of Wagner’s DIE WALKURE.

I’ve recently experienced something of a revelation regarding Ms. Watson – more about that soon when I write about “The Colón RING“.

Tenor Endrick Wottrich, who is Siegmund in this recording, sadly passed away in the Spring of 2017 at the age of 52.

Linda Watson & Endrick Wottrich – Todesverkundigung ~ WALKURE – Bayreuth 2006

July 23, 2018