Die Walküre

Donald Runnicles
Orchester der Deutschen Oper Berlin
Date/Location
10/17 November 2021
Deutsche Oper Berlin
Recording Type
  live  studio
  live compilation  live and studio
Cast
SiegmundBrandon Jovanovich
HundingTobias Kehrer
WotanIain Paterson
SieglindeElisabeth Teige
BrünnhildeNina Stemme
FrickaAnnika Schlicht
HelmwigeFlurina Stucki
GerhildeAile Asszonyi
OrtlindeAntonia Ahyoung Kim
WaltrauteSimone Schröder
SiegruneUlrike Helzel
GrimgerdeAnna Lapkovskaja
SchwertleiteBeth Taylor
RoßweißeKaris Tucker
Stage directorStefan Herheim (2020)
Set designerSilke Bauer, Stefan Herheim
TV directorGötz Filenius
Gallery
Reviews
opera-online.com

Wenn Ulk an Niveau verliert. Neue Berliner Walküre verkauft sich unter Wert

Eine halbrunde Mauer aus Koffern, Sieglinde ist hektisch beim Packen, der bekannte Konzertflügel steht im Zentrun und auf einmal taucht da ein wilder stummer Teenie am Boden liegend auf. Ein Zeugnis von ihrer vollzogenen Ehe mit Hunding. Über Sinnhaftigkeit dieses Kunstgriffs von Stefan Herheim, dem Regisseur der Neuinszenierung des Ring des Nibelungen an der Deutschen Oper Berlin, lässt sich diskutieren. Für das Verständnis der Oper scheint er nicht notwendig, insbesondere in der schon ohnehin überladenen Ideenkiste inklusive lebendigen Wolf, die er gebraucht. Dieses Zuviel lässt die Wirkung der Oper und ihrer intensiven Musik verblassen. Noch dazu wenn noch die Technik wie im ersten Akt streikt und das obligate überdimensionierte Tuch in sich zusammenfällt und die Protagonisten zudeckt. Dank der beherrschten Reaktion von Brandon Jovanovich als Siegmund, der das Tuch wieder in den Flügel stopft, geht es ohne weitere Komplikationen ab.

Zu Beginn des zweiten Aktes kehrt Ulk und Parodie zurück. Zuerst herrscht Durcheinander und das Wälsungenpaar räkelt sich in Unterwäsche auf dem Flügel, Wotan gesellt sich ebenfalls in Unterhose aus dem Souffleurkasten dazu. Brünnhilde kommt im Flügel in römischen Kampfgewand mit Brustpanzer hochgefahren, mit je einem Helm und Speer für ihre Schwestern, die bereits mit ihren Koffern mit einer Flüchtlingsschar auf der Bühne sind. Das Durcheinander löst sich nur schwer auf, da kann auch eine beherrschte Fricka keine Ordnung bringen. Die so bezaubernde Intimität der Partitur zwischen Wotan und Brünnhilde geht im Anschluss verloren. Siegmund kehrt mittlerweile wieder angezogen mit Sieglinde im Nachthemd zurück. Die Todesverkündigung wird nicht wirklich mystisch und am Ende umarmen sich die Walküre und ihr Held.

Wotan gibt den Ton im Zweikampf zwischen Hunding und Siegmund am Klavier an, Sieglinde sammelt die Bruchstücke Nothungs auf. Wie erwartet verschwindet sie mit Brünnhilde im Flügel. Die Walküren sind sich ob ihres Auftrittes im dritten Akt unschlüssig und studieren noch schnell die Partitur während ihr Ritt musikalisch aus dem Orchestergraben dröhnt. Die gefallenen Helden spenden munter Beifall und es darf auch kopuliert werden. Nach einer zum Glück ruhigen klassischen Verabschiedung zwischen Vater und Tochter wird zum Feuerzauber bereits Siegfried im Klavier geboren. Mime im Wagnerkostüm leistet Hilfe. Die Ideen dieser Regie wiederholen sich und verlieren an Überraschungskraft und ermüden.

Weniger ist deutlich mehr und wäre angemessen. Die Handlung fasziniert unverändert und benötigt keine Verulkung um originell zu wirken. Musikalisch kann der zweite Abend des Rings nicht überzeugen. Brandon Jovanovich ist kein Heldentenor mit Strahlkraft. Dazu müht er sich redlich mit seiner Wortverständluchkeit als Siegmund und kriegt aus dem Orchester nur sanfte Unterstützung, die den Spannungsbogen bricht. Elisabeth Telge als Sieglinde bleibt farblos und lässt Höhe und Sinnlichkeit vermissen. Dafür ist Tobias Kehrer ein furchteinflössender gruseliger Hunding mit dunklem Bass. Iain Paterson ist kurzfristig als Wotan eingesprungen und kommt mit den Anforderungen der Regie gut zurecht und lässt sich von dem Treiben auf der Bühne nich ablenken. Mit sonorer wenig nuancenreicher aber sicherer Stimme führt er einen ruhenden Pol. Routiniert mit unglaublicher Spiefreude widmet sich Nina Stemme ihrer Brünnhilde. Stimmlich wirkt sie bestens disponiert und zeigt viele gefühlvolle Phrasierungen wie heldische Kampfeslust. Die Höhen sowie die wagnerschen Wortlaute bringt sie ausdrucksstark, mitunter metallen. Auch Annika Schlicht kommt am zweiten Abend als Fricka überzeugend zur Geltung. Verführerisch verwickelt sie Gottvater im Gespräch und fordert beherzt seinen Eid. Hervorzuheben ist ein gesanglich sehr gelungene Darbietung der Walküren, die in der Regie schlicht unterzugehen droht.

Im Orchestergraben überzeugen an diesem Abend Sir Donald Runnicles und das Orchester der deutschen Oper nicht. Unsicherheiten besonders bei den Bläsern sind zu vernehmen, oft genug klingt es unklar und es brodelt verschwommen unter der Bühne. Es kommt keine Spannung oder epische Dramatik auf, die den von Bildern, Koffern und Statisten überfütterten Zuschauer zum Zuhören beglückt.

Dr. Helmut Pitsch | Deutsche Oper Berlin 17.11.2021 

forumopera.com

Déception à l’issue de cette Walküre très attendue au Deutsche Oper. Très attendue comme toute cette nouvelle production du Ring. Il faut dire que la dernière datait de 32 ans, il s’agissait de la version de Götz Friedrich qui, à Berlin, est restée dans les mémoires. On ignore si celle-ci aura le succès de la précédente, on en doute, à dire vrai, tant la ligne directrice esquissée par le régisseur Stefan Herheim vous donne le mal de crâne si vous essayez de la trouver, puis de la suivre et surtout de ne pas la perdre. On essaie de comprendre le propos, on pense le saisir et voilà qu’il nous échappe tant Herheim semble trouver un malin plaisir à dérouter le spectateur par l’intrusion d’éléments qu’on qualifiera d’incohérents pour ne pas être plus désobligeant. Alors que le fil de la narration se déroule et qu’on commence à trouver un sens à la vision proposée, Herheim nous plonge brutalement en absurdie, joue la désacralisation systématique, comme si lui-même ne pouvait prendre au sérieux le propos qu’il livre à notre sagacité et à nos yeux. Alors que Sigmund s’apprête à enlacer doucement Sieglinde, le voilà, agité soudainement de furie lubrique, qui baisse son pantalon et se jette sur elle. Au début du II, quel sens trouver à l’apparition de Wotan en caleçon par le trou du souffleur ? Pourquoi les réfugiés, jusque-là figures paisibles, se ruent-ils soudainement sur les huit Walkyries pour les violer avant, quelques minutes à peine plus tard, de revêtir leurs casques et se poser en protecteurs ? Etait-il nécessaire de faire apparaître Richard Wagner en sage-femme venu accoucher Sieglinde, elle-même enfermée dans un piano à queue, à la fin du III ? Voilà quelques questions parmi d’autres qui resteront posées à la fin du spectacle ; rien dans les notes d’intention qui pourraient nous aider à transpercer l’hermétisme du message du metteur en scène. Il y a certes les deux seuls éléments de décors qui pourraient faire sens : les valises et le piano ! Pour tous décors, un amoncellement de valises, des montagnes de valises (dont un ensemble s’envolera à l’évocation du Walhalla par Brünnhilde ! ). Chaque personnage, sans exception, arrivera sur scène avec sa valise. La demeure de Hunding est construite de valises en guise de briques (on se croirait dans l’ambiance du Moon Palace de Paul Auster) et des réfugiés arrivent par vague, tous porteurs de valises (il n’est pas sûr qu’aujourd’hui les réfugiés soient porteurs de valises, le fil est tout de même un peu gros ! ) ; le livret du spectacle est également parsemé de clichés de personnes en transit plus ou moins volontaires (en 1961 à Berlin on ne sortait pas de chez soi avec une valise de gaieté de cœur…). On n’en saura malheureusement pas plus sur la finalité de ces accessoires.

L’autre élément central du décor est le piano à queue de concert, présent pendant les trois actes. Piano muet mais sur lequel chacun mimera de temps en temps la partition de Die Walküre. Il figure aussi au premier acte l’arbre dans lequel est fichée l’épée Notung, il s’élèvera en l’air pour permettre à Wotan de haranguer sa fille Brünnhilde au début du II. Enfin, c’est dans ses entrailles que cette dernière reposera, en attendant d’être réveillée. Une mise en scène donc bien énigmatique manquant considérablement d’un souffle qui aurait transcendé les trois actes ; tout se passe comme si Stefan Herheim s’était interdit de mener jusqu’au bout une idée de départ en lien avec le voyage, le parcours sur terre réservé à tout un chacun qui est certainement à l’origine de la proposition.

L’autre déception concerne l’orchestre du Deutsche Oper. Nous avons eu l’occasion d’entendre ici même Sir Donald Runnicles bien mieux inspiré. Voilà l’orchestre emprunté, incapable de trouver une cohérence et comme tiré à hue et à dia ; il faut dire que l’orientation choisie par le chef, éminemment respectable, est de resserrer la masse sonore pour permettre aux chanteurs de passer la fosse, tous n’en étant pas capables. Il a donc manqué cette pâte compacte de l’orchestre wagnérien que l’on est en droit d’attendre.

La distribution vocale est la satisfaction de la soirée. Quel plaisir de retrouver Nina Stemme en Brünnhilde ! Le début du II est un peu fébrile, mais très vite la voix gagne en densité, la puissance revient aussi, et l’endurance est tout à fait remarquable. Elisabeth Teige en Sieglinde finit en beauté une partition qu’elle avait débutée avec moins d’assurance (la diction n’est pas toujours parfaite non plus). Le médium est magnifique mais les aigus légèrement détimbrés dans les forte avaient laissé craindre que la soirée pourrait être longue. Superbe apparition de la Fricka de Annika Schlicht ; timbre sombre à souhait, agilité dans les aigus. Nos huit Walkyries ont eu fort à faire dans leur « Hojotoho », assaillies qu’elles étaient par des migrants devenus soudain de sauvages prédateurs (ici, en Allemagne, une figure de style que nous avons trouvée d’un goût fort discutable).

Chez les hommes, le Sigmund de Brandon Jovanovich a retrouvé au II le brio qui lui manqua au I. Le souffle était revenu et le bronze de la voix faisait à nouveau merveille. Tobias Kehrer est un Hunding brutal et méfiant à souhait. Déception pour le Wotan de Iain Paterson qui remplace John Lundgren. Le timbre est seyant, l’abattage méritant mais il manque la force et la puissance que nécessite le rôle.

Thierry Verger | 31 Octobre 2021 

musicweb-international.com

I will spare the audience a litany of the horrors perpetrated in this staging, an unending testament of folly which would be inevitably devoid of pleasure or instruction. I will simply confine myself to a description of the first ten minutes of Act Two of this Walküre. Now, Wagner’s instructions for this scene are simplicity itself. After an orchestral prelude depicting the flight of Siegmund and Sieglinde into the wilds, the curtain rises on a scene in the mountains where Wotan instructs Brünnhilde in the actions she is to undertake in the forthcoming conflict between Siegmund and Hunding, Sieglinde’s vengeful husband. She rejoices in the prospect, but warns Wotan that his spouse Fricka is approaching, and leaves him to confront her in their forthcoming argument. The musical structure falls into one unit, all at the same basic speed, and serves to introduce the Valkyries and their boisterous Leitmotive to the audience. All very basic and very straightforward, or so it would seem.

Now let us see what Herheim does with this basic scenario. The curtain rises – following the applause for Sir Donald Runnicles arriving in the orchestra pit – in total silence, on a set and a scene that have not changed in the slightest degree since it fell on Act One. The stage is dominated by a grand piano, on the lid of which Siegmund and Sieglinde have fully and visibly consummated their passion (and conceived Siegfried) in a most perfunctory manner at the end of the preceding scene. Siegmund appears to have now ungallantly fallen asleep on top of his sister, but rouses himself (still clad in the most scruffy and unprepossessing underwear) as Wotan climbs up out of the prompt box, also without his trousers. He produces a vocal score of the opera clearly labelled Die Walküre, moves across to the piano and seats himself at the keyboard. Only now does the music begin. As the themes associated specifically with the lovers erupt, Hunding arrives on stage to discover the body of his murdered son (do not ask now – I will explain later) and his wife’s clothing discarded on the floor. The lovers disentangle themselves unceremoniously and seemingly unnoticed from the lid of the piano. The lid then opens to allow the entry of Brünnhilde. She rises from the bowels of the instrument on what seems to be a sort of fork-lift truck surrounded by spears. Her sisters join her in a rabble to one side of the stage, and Hunding’s henchmen, complete with shotguns, appear to threaten both them and Siegmund and Sieglinde – who are now bundled offstage with the maximum dispatch and minimum of impact. Wotan proceeds to play the Valkyrie motif on the piano with the style of ebullient showmanship that one might have associated with Liberace, but without the charm (despite a fixed cheesy grin). In the meantime, Hunding remains crouched at the centre front of the stage, not over the body of his son as one might expect. Instead, he bares his chest (with a most impressive tattoo) over the dress of his eloping wife and bellows his outrage to the heavens just as Brünnhilde is proclaiming her arrival – thus effectively totally upstaging the whole dramatic and musical point of the scene. Finally, as Fricka approaches (also rising up through the piano) and Wotan finally gets round to putting on and buttoning up his trousers, the assembled multitude of extras are hustled unceremoniously offstage – only to creep back progressively during the following scene. They will remain there not only during the whole dispute between Wotan and his spouse but the following ‘monologue’ where Wotan insistently states that he is talking to himself (treating his daughter as his inner self) without any listeners or other eavesdroppers. Oh, by the way, since Fricka has lost her chariot drawn by rams, she has made recompense by adopting a headdress which incorporates a ram’s skull into the body of her hair. It looks absolutely ridiculous and draws attention away from the importance of her argument at every point in the dramatically crucial dialogue which is to follow.

Well, that is just a sample of the sort of nonsense that is perpetrated throughout this staging. Just when one thought that the whole production could not get more ludicrous, Herheim manages to find yet another lunacy to foist on the unsuspecting audience. It does not help either that some of these are so predictable. Somehow we know in advance that Wotan is going to tear pages out of the vocal score as he apostrophises Das Ende! during his monologue; that Brünnhilde is going to go through a sort of embalming ritual to prepare Siegmund for death; that Hunding is going to reappear complete with a band of henchmen to hunt Siegmund; and that he is going to stab him in the back a good couple of minutes after Wagner specifies that he should do so (at the exact moment when the orchestra is delivering the Valkyrie motif that is supposed to depict the flight of Brünnhilde and Sieglinde). We have seen all these things, or images very like them, in previous productions going back to Patrice Chereau in 1976 at Bayreuth and beyond; they lack even the dubious virtue of originality.

One further example of this tomfoolery must suffice, and it is probably the most extreme of all. We find a further completely new character introduced into Act One of the drama. It takes the shape of a teenage son, the product of the marriage between Sieglinde and Hunding, who is identified in the booklet with the singularly unimaginative name of Hundingling. Now, in an interview with the obsequious Jörg Königsdorf reproduced in the booklet, Herheim explains his rationale for this startling alteration in Wagner’s whole scenario. He is concerned that Sieglinde’s guilt during her flight with Siegmund during Act Two is insufficiently motivated by her realisation of both adultery and incest, and decides that to rationalise this he must add what he describes as a parallel to “Medea”. The teenage boy accordingly has his throat cut by his mother at the moment when his uncle pulls the sword from the tree. Now, I would argue that the motivation of Medea – her abandonment by her husband – is precisely the opposite of any motivation that could conceivably be attributed to Sieglinde at that particular moment of joyous triumph. But it also sacrifices any possible sympathy or engagement on the part of the audience in the fate either of Sieglinde or her brother (who ignores the crime that has just been committed in his anxiety to get rid of his scruffy and dirty clothes, reminiscent of a jobbing gardener, and drag his sister onto the lid of the piano for their quick tumble).

The whole addition of this character also creates problems earlier on. The unfortunate ‘Hundingling’ clasping his oversized teddy bear has nothing to sing, or indeed to do, but he is onstage from the very beginning even before the arrival of Siegmund. At first, he is suspicious and threatens the stranger with a knife, then allows this to be taken from him, and then retrieves it, all without any obvious motivation. That in turn leads the viewer to suspect that he is not only dumb but also mentally disturbed or retarded, which lends the whole concept an even more distasteful interpretation. And then he has to maintain this thoroughly unpleasant charade for a whole hour before his mother relieves him of his life. No, this is not a fair summary of the situation. The whole concept should have been despatched from the very word go, as soon as it was even formulated. Who on Earth allowed this sort of perverse nonsense to be perpetrated on stage in the first place? I could go on and on, but there is no point. Herheim at any rate seems reluctant to abandon the character; Hundingling unbelievably turns up again as one of the corpses carried by the Valkyries (supposedly slain on the battlefield), to intervene somewhat ineffectually in the dialogue between Sieglinde and Brünnhilde before the latter announces his mother’s pregnancy. At that point, having presumably fulfilled whatever purpose his resurrection was intended to serve, he is bundled offstage once again. Maybe he is intended to reappear in later episodes of the cycle; nothing would surprise.

Under these circumstances it is usually customary for the critic to shrug and suggest that those who purchase the product should be prepared to close their eyes and simply listen to the music. But here not even that is possible. Several of Wagner’s orchestral climaxes are drowned with shrieks or shouts from the singers (sometimes those perpetrators are not even supposed to be on stage at the time according to Wagner’s directions). The ultimate in absurdity occurs at the end of Act Two when Wotan, instead of setting out in pursuit of Brünnhilde, patrols round the stage accosting Hunding’s henchmen and causing them to discharge their shotguns one after another (one at the climax of each phrase) before they fall down dead for no very obvious reason. Quite apart from the ludicrous introduction of firearms (how is Siegmund under such circumstances supposed to gain any combative advantage from the possession of the sword, however magical, left for him by Wälse?), the resultant noise adds another percussion part to the orchestra, which negates the whole musical effect sought by Wagner, and drowns out the soaring aggression of the rising tuba phrases altogether. Sir Donald in the pit should have rebelled.

The abysmal production seems even to have affected the usually imperturbable Nina Stemme as Brünnhilde. Her sustained high notes no longer have the ease of production to which we have become accustomed over the past twenty years, although her quiet singing remains as intense and moving as ever. Annika Schlicht as Fricka, the only holdover from the cast of Rheingold, is handicapped by her stage presentation but also sounds too matronly. And at the moment of her triumph over Wotan she completely misinterprets her actions, first cast down abjectly on the floor and then addressing her final remarks not to him but directly to Brünnhilde (who then has to look surprised when she learns of their content some twenty minutes later). Iain Paterson as Wotan seems plebeian and matter-of-fact throughout – he cannot have been helped by the vacillating and shallow characterisation foisted upon him. One simply cannot believe in him as the ruler of the gods even when he is manipulating the actions of all the other characters like a puppet master at the end of Act Two (again, best not to ask). He does rise to an impressive account of his farewell, which for once follows Wagner’s stage directions.

Tobias Kehrer as Hunding is gruff although serviceable, but there is no villainous depth to his tone. Brandon Jovanovich as Siegmund sounds quite simply over-parted. At first his voice has a tendency to be covered by the orchestra although his Winterstürme is nicely phrased. Then, as he lets the tone expand towards the end of Act One, he allows his pitch to go seriously awry in a quest for volume; the passage after he draws the sword from the tree is painfully adrift. (By the way, when he arrives he is wearing a bedraggled anorak over his gardening clothes to protect him from the storm, but he does seem to have found time for a complete shave while fleeing from his enemies.) As his sister and wife, Elisabeth Teige probably produces the most satisfactory singing of the evening, but what the producer has done to her character renders her totally unsympathetic; we feel none of the pain of the downtrodden wife. The Valkyries in the final Act, when they finally get to sing, are an accurate but otherwise pretty unprepossessing bunch, although Flurina Stucki as Helmwige does at least supply a voice of the right heroic stature. But then nobody buys a recording of Walküre for the Helmwige. The film director Götz Filenius does his best to ensure that the cameras are pointing in the right direction, although how he determines what that should be is a mystery. Some of the more grandiose lighting effects are spectacular, even when unmotivated or simply misguided. The set, unchanged throughout all three Acts, is constructed from modern suitcases piled up to the rafters.

I recognise the time and effort that everyone concerned must have ploughed into this presentation. The whole production was clearly not cheap, and even the lunacies of the director clearly involved considerable – if insufficiently rational – thought. But the result is quite simply intolerable, and not even the merits of some of the individual performances can redeem that. The CoVid pandemic apparently wreaked havoc with the rehearsal and preparation period. Not enough, I fear. Herheim asks in his booklet interview for judgement on the production as a whole to be suspended until it can be considered in its entirety. But we are already given a foretaste of his plans in the closing scene of this production. As Wotan pronounces his final lines and the Siegfried motif rings out majestically in the orchestra, the lid of the piano at the centre of the stage opens (the sleeping Brünnhilde had been entombed there only minutes earlier) to disclose Sieglinde giving birth to her son with Mime in attendance (anticipating narrative which is yet to come). The scene fades to darkness (just as the music is illustrating the fire reaching its height) isolating Mime and the baby centre stage, an image which fights every inch against both dramatic and musical credibility. If I had been in a position of any influence in Berlin, I would not have waited another second, but terminated the experiment immediately. No doubt sycophantic or jaded critics will disagree; but I would defy them to produce a single innovative idea in this presentation which would not be susceptible of improvement or which is not surpassed elsewhere. For those who nonetheless persist, I may note that subtitles are provided in German, English, French, Italian, Japanese and Korean.

I cannot recommend that anyone, even an ardent fan of the Regietheater concept, should invest in this issue. Critics for years have complained about what they term the ‘lazy tradition’ enshrined in the old DG videos from the Metropolitan conducted by James Levine and produced by Otto Schenk. Even so, while Die Walküre is the weakest link in that Met Ring, the staging still has a dramatic and musical cogency which knocks this newcomer irretrievably into the long grass. Those looking for a more modern approach will find Hary Kupfer’s Bayreuth production conducted by Daniel Barenboim eminently acceptable, although Kupfer too cannot resist the temptation to add a collection of silent and unnecessary watchers to the characters onstage.

Paul Corfield Godfrey | MAY 1, 2024 

Rating
(3/10)
User Rating
(2/5)
Media Type/Label
Naxos
Naxos
Technical Specifications
1920×1080, 3.7 Mbit/s, 6.8 GByte (MPEG-4)
Remarks
This recording is part of a complete Ring cycle.