SEATTLE AND AMERICAN WAGNER PRODUCTIONS

by Graham Bruce

 

While Europe, particularly Germany, has experimented with innovative and often challenging productions of Wagner’s operas, the United States has remained a bastion of conservative style productions. The most prominent of these is New York’s Metropolitan Opera production of the Ring, directed by Otto Schenk, which had its final stagings earlier this year. Similar in style was the virtually contemporaneous San Francisco production, directed by Nikolaus Lehnhof, that I saw in 1990, its massive sets and staging, like the Met’s, striving to be “faithful” to Wagner’s directions. That is all about to change. The Met’s new staging will be directed by Robert Lepage, renowned for his innovative productions; and the first two operas to appear so far of Los Angeles’s new Ring directed by Achim Freyer, look anything but conventional: on a steeply-raked stage, the singers wear masks, parade in costumes somewhat reminiscent of the Star Wars films, and move amid a riot of primary colours.

 

Seattle Opera’s current production of the Ring, however, first seen in 2001, will have nothing to do with such interventionist stagings.  It remains firmly rooted in the tradition of naturalistic representation in sets and costumes. The Rhine maidens, suspended from the flies, and wearing ingenious costumes where extensions simulate fins, actually appear to swim as they cavort athletically, twirling and paddling before a blue background.

 

 The gods assemble on a rocky outcrop of forest where the trees have visible bark and foliage, and eventually a wonderful rainbow curves up towards the distant Valhalla seen through the forest.

 

In Die Walküre, Hunding’s hut, buried in a thick forest, has a substantial tree-trunk, and spring’s entry is reflected in the increased splendour of the forest; on Wotan’s spear the carved runes are quite evident,

 

 while the Valkyries have stylized winged helmets; and real flames surround Brünnhilde upon a massive, impressively naturalistic rock.  Mime’s dwelling in the first act of Siegfried has a quite beautiful forest setting, and the dragon in Act II has huge tusks, monstrous wings and a threatening tail.

 

 Götterdämmerung’s Rhine maidens now swim in the waters of a pool in a rocky gorge, its surface gleaming in the sun, and Grane appears as a real horse in both the Prologue and the Finale.

 

Perhaps the above descriptions suggest a fusty, old-fashioned staging.  This is certainly not the case. Considered simply in visual terms, Seattle’s Ring is certainly pure delight, Thomas Lynch’s settings reflecting the forests of America’s Pacific Northwest and reinforcing General Director, Speight Jenkins’s view of the importance of nature in the tetralogy.

 

 But what distinguishes this production is the quality of the direction and the conviction of the performers.  Like Bayreuth, Seattle can command a lengthy summer rehearsal period prior to the three cycles, and the resulting communal atmosphere has allowed director Stephen Wadsworth to achieve the kind of intensity of ensemble not possible in repertory houses like the Met or the Vienna State Opera. Furthermore, as the conductor of the Ring, Robert Spano noted, Wadsworth “shares my passion for the text” and “as director, is a wonderful musician”, working from a detailed knowledge of the score. There are subtle visual connections in Martin Pakledinaz’s costumes. Wotan’s silver cloak has distinctive red panels

 

 and this red is picked up in the costumes of his descendants: the Valkyries wear winged helmets and cloaks with a red stripe;

 

 Siegmund  lovingly removes the red ribbon which tightly binds Sieglinde’s hair, symbolically freeing her from her unhappy union with Hunding, whereas Fricka, defender of marriage, later sternly examines the abandoned ribbon;

 

 Siegmund protects Sieglinde with his red-toned cloak, which, following his death, is used to wrap the shattered pieces of the sword; presented with this bundle containing the broken Nothung, Siegfried treasures his father’s cloak, a connection to the family he longs for; and finally Brünnhilde drapes Siegfried’s body with the same red cloak.

 

The production contains many a coup de theâtre. Loge’s presence occasions several spurts of fire from the rocks and his gestures are often accompanied by flashes of flame darting from his hands. Alberich’s transformations via the tarnhelm impress when high above a huge snake slithers, and later Wotan and Loge find touching a slimy toad distasteful. Nibelheim is a vast black platform and wall highlighted by streaks of the gold ore which the Nibelungs are compelled to mine. Following his demonstration of the tarnhelm to Mime, Alberich emerges magically from the blackness with a jump, a movement reproduced exactly by the sudden appearance of Wotan in Nibelheim, reminding us of the parallels between Schwartz-Alberich and Licht-Alberich (Wotan).

 

Such theatrical moments, however, would count for little if not supported by a strong cast of singers. Seattle’s artists are probably as strong as you will find anywhere today. The cast is dominated by a superb performance of Wotan by Greer Grimsley, the voice rich, sonorous and untiring throughout the three operas, the stage presence gripping. Danish tenor Stig Andersen has the lyricism for the many tender moments of the part of Siegfried but also the heft for the forging scene. He seems unfazed by the demands Wagner makes of his heldentenor. Stuart Skelton shows what a fine Siegmund he is, matched by the lovely voice of Margaret Jane Wray as Sieglinde.  Most opera lovers will know how sometimes a beloved recorded performance haunts one at a particular point. In my case, a tenderly floated, perfectly poised moment recalled in Gré Brouwenstijn’s Sieglinde has made me hope to hear something matching that in a live performance. To my delight, it is there in Wray’s Sieglinde.  Another superb voice, that of Stephanie Blyth, makes Fricka so much more than a mere harridan, but later trumps this with a Götterdämmerung Waltraute whose scene with Brünnhilde brings alive the text in an extremely tense scene. And the Brünnhilde in this Ring? Well, you might complain that Janice Baird overdoes the anguished facial expressions and shakings of the head; or that the upper and lower registers of her voice are ill-matched. Nevertheless, the upper notes ring out confidently and thrillingly and she shows no loss of power throughout. Mime for once is sung “straight”, Dennis Petersen avoiding the bleating tones affected elsewhere by many of the character performances of the part. Kobie van Rensburg’s Loge adopts a similar vocal strategy and it is telling that both these performances are no less dramatic for their  avoidance of exaggeration.

 

Most Rings generally disappoint in their attempts to convey or avoid Wagner’s directions for the final cataclysm. Not so Seattle’s. Grane (the same live horse we have seen Siegfried lead off the rock) is brought in and Brünnhilde leads him into the off-stage pyre whose flames redden the Gibichung Hall menacingly. The walls of the hall are flown, and with the aid of a front scrim and intense blue lighting, the Rhine returns. The Rhine maidens swim across, suspended as in Das Rheingold. They hover above the now visible Brünnhilde as Alberich makes a last unsuccessful attempt to prevent her throwing the ring to the Rhine maidens. The Rhine and these characters now disappear as the flames (projections on the front scrim) take over. As these die down, a turret of Valhalla rises up in the background. On its ramparts are Wotan and Loge with the other gods behind them. Wotan gestures to Loge who obliges with a burst of fire from his hand. The now burning Valhalla descends as the flames dominate on the front scrim. The surprise now comes with the final bars of the tetralogy and the surge of the so-called “Redemption by Love” motif which we recall from Sieglinde’s rapturous outburst on learning that she will give birth to Siegfried. Speight Jenkins, Seattle Opera’s General Director, maintains that this assertion of love’s power in a strong major-key statement implies an optimistic end to the Ring. Accordingly, the flames now die own and there is a return to the natural forest setting of the second scene of Das Rheingold. Beautiful in that opera, it is now even more impressive as new growth refreshes the muted splendour of the earlier scene.

 

The impressive and technically complex ending to this Ring provided a fitting climax to an excellent cycle.  If I add that the superb acoustic of Seattle Opera’s new venue, Mc Caw Hall, allows the voices to project easily across the huge orchestra pit; that the orchestra is extremely impressive; and that conductor Robert Spano offers a fine reading of the score, quite free of quirks of tempo; then one easily understands why visitors from all American states but one and from a great many countries traveled to this second cycle. When this production has its next and final showing in 2013, I certainly plan to travel again to Seattle for this most enjoyable of Ring productions.