Ecstasy from Birmingham Opera Company

At the end of Birmingham Opera Company’s RhineGold, as the gods stood ready to enter Valhalla, Donner swung a baseball bat and summoned a rainbow bridge of human bodies — crawling, abject, before the new lords of creation. It was pretty much what we’ve come to expect from BOC’s founder Graham Vick, a director who never hints at a contemporary social message when he can ramraid our consciousness with one. Here, though, there was another twist of the knife. The human bridge was made up of delivery couriers, complete with branded cagoules and cycle helmets. Didn’t someone describe lockdown as ‘middle-class people hiding while working-class people bring them things?’. A smart touch, and vintage Graham Vick.

Except Vick wasn’t there. He died three weeks ago from complications of Covid-19, just as rehearsals commenced. This staging was directed by his long-term BOC collaborator Richard Willacy, and it’s impossible to say how closely it resembled Vick’s vision, in as far as he’d tied anything down. BOC always operates on the hoof, and apparently Symphony Hall was the third choice of venue. It was transformed, with a circular stage erected over the stalls, and the cast (including the non-professional community performers that Vick always put at the centre of his work in Birmingham) entering and exiting from all sides. If this wasn’t a Graham Vick production, his legacy — and his desperately missed presence — could not have been more evident.

Naturally, this was an urban Rheingold. The Rhinemaidens were selfie-taking party girls, Alberich (Ross Ramgobin) was a Just Eat courier, and Wotan (Eric Greene)’s posse of bickering deities were nouveau-riche celebs in ghetto-fabulous threads, first seen giving a press conference for FNN: Fake News Network. That was surely a Vick touch; likewise Wotan’s MAGA hat, slipped on for the benefit of the cameras. The supervillains in Vick’s political universe were exactly the ones you’d predict (he was still sore about Thatcher in 2019’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk). But the direct allusions were only ever set-dressing; thrown out to get a rise, then passed over as secondary to the infinitely more complex human drama implicit in the music.That was the case here. ‘You treat me like dogshit!’ spits Alberich, in Jeremy Sams’s English translation, and I don’t imagine that Wagner — who was explicit about wanting his operas sung in the language of their audience — would have objected. Not in the presence of such immediacy, such invention, and such feet-first commitment to the drama. Alpesh Chauhan conducted the 87 players of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra with a commanding sense of when to sustain and when to let everything blaze. The singing, too, was fearlessly characterised. Wotan and Alberich were both big-talking hollow men. Keel Watson gave Fasolt a sonorous dignity and presence, and Chrystal E. Williams, as Fricka, really glowed, with a sweetness of tone that belied her queen-bitch shoulderpads. Brenden Gunnell’s Loge wielded his tenor like a goad: canny, fierce and inscrutable behind his red goggles and Hells Angel leathers.

Then there was the moment — there’s one in every BOC production — where music, visuals and meaning suddenly coalesce, expand and engulf everyone present in a way that overwhelms rational response. It came early on, as the Rhinemaidens soared and the whole interior of Symphony Hall became a vortex of glittering light. It was just a glitterball and a yellow spotlight (BOC has always been resourceful) but in that instant, Willacy and his company created something close to ecstasy — as Wagner might have put it, a complete artwork. It’s why opera, despite everything, remains the sublimest of all dramatic artforms; and why it’s vital that this company — incontestably the most artistically significant force in British opera this century — finds a way forward in Vick’s absence. It simply must.

Richard Bratby | 7 August 2021

It was three decades ago when the then City of Birmingham Touring Opera mounted its first production of Wagner’s Ring cycle as a statement of intent that the now Birmingham Opera Company has followed up in numerous productions. Time, then, to reconsider what has been achieved over this period and, moreover, to tackle anew what had remained Western opera’s most radical and provocative but also equivocal achievement; at a time when the very raison d’être of Western culture is under scrutiny – in certain quarters, even attack – as never before.

On one level this was not Wagner’s Rhinegold as intended – COVID factors having led to the decision to move from the planned location of Port Loop to Symphony Hall in a semi-staging which, if it inevitably diffuses the assaultive element that characterizes BOC’s approach, does not detract from its intent. Essentially, this is a production which brings various defining traits from the present or recent past – such as fake news, the gig economy, establishment nepotism, racial and gender exploitation – into a productive collision in which theatrical disjuncture and emotional dislocation are more relevant than any wanton attempt at dramatic unity. Certainly, its unfolding ‘in the round’ – on a raised stage between orchestra and audience – enhances the fluidity of action crucial to this preliminary evening of Wagner’s conception; in the process, setting down markers that can be elaborated and intensified over the course of the trilogy to follow. Costume and lighting further this ‘less will, in time, become more’ strategy, keeping the onstage action relevant but not straying too far from the drama as played out in the music.

A strategy such as also informs the translation of Wagner’s libretto by Jeremy Sams. Not for the first time, the latter has found a viable means with which to render this composer’s often combative if sometimes effortful prose into an English as is immediate and streetwise while never seeking to belittle, let alone ridicule, its ambition. Overhead microphones convey what is being sung with only minimal blurring or distortion, while the placing of the singers vis-à-vis the orchestra vindicates the absence of surtitles as just one more unnecessary distraction.

Most of the singers have been encountered in previous BOC productions. Eric Greene has the vocal heft and authority necessary as Wotan, and while his tone is on occasion strained or his expression vacillating, these serve to extend the range of an already absorbing figure. Chrystal E. Williams has the full measure of Fricka in her innate caution and social hypocrisy, while Francesca Chiejina’s Freia is at once vulnerable and anguished through so being a victim of circumstance. Amar Muchhala is a mellifluous Froh and Byron Jackson a forceful Donner, while Gweneth-Ann Rand offers a brief though mesmeric cameo as Erda. Brenden Gunnell otherwise steals the show as a Loge whose Machiavellian scheming is replete with touches of camp humour and tendency to quickfire violence, in a portrayal of the utmost distinction.

Ross Ramgobin initially feels too elegant as Albreich, though his portrayal intensifies as the drama proceeds – leading to a confrontation in Nibelheim of visceral impact then a ‘curse’ of vengeful anger. John-Colyn Gyeantey strikes just the right note of wheedling hopelessness as Mime and Andrew Slater is (rightly) emotionally circumspect as Fafner, ceding the limelight to Keel Watson’s eloquent Fasolt until the latter’s fateful demise. As to the ‘Rhine Girls’, Zoe Drummond, Felicity Buckland, and Georgia Mae Bishop are well differentiated as Woglinde, Wellgunde and Flosshilde – even if their characterization feels too knowing to have made the disastrous mistake that sets events in motion. The actors acquit their numerous roles ably, not least in representing the social ‘underclass’ that unwittingly serves the aspirations of any era.

Playing in its accustomed venue, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra gives a vital and committed account of Wagner’s multivalent score – only relatively downsized compared to the stated requirements and rarely, if ever, lacking textural depth or dynamic impact. That this was made possible by a continued removal of raised sections on the platform more than compensates for any lack of clarity in heavily scored passages; those more inward passages having a delicacy and translucency ideal in context. Making his debut as Music Director of BOC, Alpesh Chauhan directs with assurance and insight – a little too literal, perhaps, in the opening scene, but with a growing sense of where the drama is headed while characterizing those scenic transitions with a flexibility to suggest a natural opera conductor in the making.

A sense of the departed Graham Vick presiding over this production was hard to avoid. What transpired this evening, however, more than suggests the viability of this Ring cycle is secure – as, one hopes, is BOC in its quest to make opera relevant for the present and for the future.

Richard Whitehouse | 1 August 2021

It’s not every RhineGold which starts with a news flash about a demonstration against Wotan’s wealth and his plans for Valhalla. “We live in squalor – he builds Valhalla!” they chant. Nor is it usual for Alberich to tell a Rheinmaiden to look out for the “eel up her arse.” Welcome to the Birmingham Opera Company RhineGold from September 2021, now available to stream free on Operavision. If you’re not able to travel in search of an opera fix this autumn, I suggest you try this lucid, intelligent, well-sung production.

Under their late director Graham Vick, Birmingham Opera Company’s annual production became legendary. They took place in unorthodox spaces, with local volunteers acting and singing alongside professional singers. Last year’s opera was intended to take place at Port Loop, part of a redevelopment site, but continued Covid restrictions moved the action to the Birmingham City Hall. As rehearsals started in July, Graham Vick died of Covid at the age of 67, one of the greatest losses to music in the UK during the pandemic.

Richard Willacy, who’d collaborated with Vick, directed RhineGold, which attracted ecstatic reviews last year. I have never seen Birmingham Opera company so was delighted to find this online. The emphasis on inequality seen in these demonstrations underpin the action. When we first meet the gods, Wotan and Fricka are having manicures, their masked beauticians kneeling, before Wotan is interviewed on camera by the Fake News Channel. They are dressed in the clothes of today’s young (and not so young) wealthy celebrities – street clothing with added bling. Wotan is in a gold lame jacket, with Fricka in white designer dress. In the first scene, the Rheinmaidens wave from high seating, then shimmy onto the stage in silver sequins. They pose for selfies as Alberich crawls onto the side wearing an orange work overall.

The performance takes place on a slightly raised oval stage. The 87-piece orchestra is at floor level behind them, with their young conductor, Alpesh Chauhan, doing a terrific job marshalling the forces from a podium level with the stage. The audience is conventionally seated in front of the performance space. The sound quality seems good though I suspect that in the auditorium, the less-prominent orchestral sound may help the singers’ voices to project. The British and American cast is excellent. There are no weak links in the singing and the plain-spoken English translation by Jeremy Sams suits the production perfectly. There are titles on screen and, I assume, in the auditorium, but the diction is well-nigh perfect.

Eric Greene, as Wotan, is the only singer I’ve seen before. He was Scottish Opera’s Richard Nixon in their production of Adams’ opera in 2020. His fine voice and autocratic bearing make him ideal for the role. Two other performances stand out for the way the singers develop their characters. US tenor Brenden Gunnell as Loge is resplendent in black leather, with goggle-like shades, and studded dog collar and knuckle dusters. His red string vest is perhaps an indication of his status as Fire God! He clearly relishes his role as Wotan’s fixer and enforcer, both the clever stuff which involves outwitting Alberich, and the heavy lifting when he lends his muscle to piling up the onstage gold for the Giants. Clearly annoyed when he fails to take the Ring for himself, he becomes sceptical about Wotan’s project, holding back from the final rejoicing of the other gods, addressing his cynical observations to the audience. It’s in the text, but I’ve never seen it acted, or indeed sung, with such clarity.

The Giants, like others of the underclass, wear orange work wear and helmets. They, however, stand upright and British bass-baritone Andrew Slater’s Fafner is clearly a shop steward to be reckoned with. Andrew has been around a while, as his genial biographical notes tell us. Fafner takes Freia, not because he’s interested in her but because she’s a means to an end – to get the payment which he feels is rightfully his. (The Tory newspapers favourite gibe of “holding the country to ransom” comes to mind here.) He despises his brother, Fasolt’s, weakness in lusting after Freia, but it helps to enlist his powerful muscle to the cause. He’s a firm and reasonable negotiator, and his strong measured singing underlies this implacability. After he oversees the accumulation of the gold (in plastic basins), the Helmet and the Ring seem to be an afterthought. But as soon as the deal is struck, the sudden brutality with which he kills Fasolt comes as a profound shock. Some directors have shown bloodier demises – here it’s a simple blow to the head with one of the rods which measured the gold. The curse of the Ring, we might say, but this is a production which looks for psychological motivations rather than magical ones, and Slater shows us the pent-up violence in the character, of the kind which often shows us shocked neighbours in TV interviews struggling to account for the murder next door.

The conquest of Alberich, deprived of his blingier-than-thou jacket by Wotan and Loge, was celebrated wordlessly by some of the protestors during the music leading up to the next scene. Yet, undeterred by this and by Fafner’s possession of the Ring, the Gods ascend to Valhalla, where their rainbow bridge is provided by workers in all colours of work clothes who crawl, as ever, up the side of the stage…

This thought-provoking production succeeds on many levels. It’s well worth watching, and if there are any ‘Ring-phobes’ out there, give this one a try. It may win you over!

Kate Calder | 5 November 2022