Das Rheingold shines at La Scala

The Ring of the Nibelung, Richard Wagner’s most monumental operatic achievement – and a landmark in the history of musical theatre – comprises four works that together tell a single story inspired by Norse mythology. Eleven years since its last Ring (directed by Guy Cassiers), the Teatro alla Scala is staging a new production by Sir David McVicar, beginning with the prologue, Das Rheingold, to close the 2023-24 season.

McVicar approaches this ambitious work with a straightforward approach: he tells the story. The Ring’s plot, penned by Wagner himself, is intricate, full of magic, symbolism and inconsistencies, written in an archaic style that Wagner, drawing on his deep literary and poetic knowledge, intended as a reflection of an ancient Germanic language. The set design, crafted by McVicar and Hannah Postlethwaite, features large, striking objects that serve as focal points, drawing the audience’s attention. Three enormous hands symbolise the Rhine, its shores and rocks, tenderly supporting the Rhinemaidens; two steep staircases ascending to an unseen Valhalla reflect Wotan’s ambition; and a massive golden skull embodies Alberich’s greed in Nibelheim. The atmosphere is dark, with selective video projections – waves of the Rhine and clouds encircling Valhalla – enhancing the setting. The Rhinegold itself is represented by a dancer wearing a golden mask, which Alberich rips away when he seizes the treasure. The visual presentation is breathtakingly beautiful, aided by Emma Kingsbury’s costumes that lend a unique, recognisable style.

This is an uncontroversial production: it avoids drawing parallels to current events, refrains from preaching and holds no agenda. It allows Wagner’s story to unfold as he intended (minus the winged helmets) and it is enjoyable.Simone Young conducted the La Scala orchestra in a performance that perfectly aligned with McVicar’s vision: she let the story unfold. The pacing was relentless, with Wagner’s music flowing in an unstoppable, overwhelming wave, yet rendered with a lightness and clarity that allowed each section of the orchestra to shine. The sound might have been less “dense” than some Wagner enthusiasts expected, but the result was an ideal balance between orchestra and stage. Rather than overpowering the singers, the orchestra supported them, driving toward a unified, shared purpose. Here, the orchestra wasn’t the star, but that was by no means a drawback.

Michael Volle portrayed Wotan, king of the gods, with a smooth bass-baritone, beautiful high notes, intelligent phrasing, and a deep understanding of Wagner’s music. His interpretation captured Wotan’s pettiness and short temper, making the character feel more human than usual. Ólafur Sigurdarson took on the role of Alberich, the Nibelung of the cycle’s title, dressed in a fat-suit and with curly horns. The role is demanding – Alberich is on stage for much of the opera with challenging, varied lines – yet Sigurdarson was flawless. His delivery felt natural, as if he were speaking rather than singing. His baritone skilfully handled all the complex emotions Wagner wrote for this pitiful dwarf: whining and frustrated while attempting to seduce the Rhinemaidens, menacing in his triumph, desperate and raging in his defeat. His performance, along with Young’s, was one of the most celebrated of the evening.

Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke brought his expertise to the role of Mime, Alberich’s brother and victim, leaning into the character’s laments and cries with a powerful tenor, resulting in an engaging performance. Norbert Ernst portrayed Loge, the god of fire; although his high tenor lacked some projection, he made a strong impression with Young’s guidance. His striking appearance – with a feminine black frock, vivid red hair and two dancers mirroring his arm movements – added an extra layer of intrigue to the role.

Okka von der Damerau was Fricka, Wotan’s wife, performing with a mezzo that displayed smooth legato and emotional depth. Olga Bezsmertna portrayed Freia, the goddess of youth whom Wotan has promised as payment to the giants who built his castle. Her bright soprano was a ray of light and her pleas, filled with terror, were emotional and moving.

The giants were portrayed by singers on stilts, equipped with oversized hands and heads for a striking visual effect. Jongmin Park stood out as Fasolt, his bass rich and warm, perhaps too refined for the character, yet lending him a touch of humanity and even sympathy. Christa Mayer portrayed Erda, the goddess symbolising Mother Earth, with a deep, authoritative mezzo.

Two additional gods rounded out this Nordic pantheon: Froh and Donner, both in frocks. Siyabonga Maqungo brought his beautiful, high tenor to Froh – his “Wie liebliche Luft” was a gem – while André Schuen sang Donner; though his baritone was slightly light for the role, Young’s support and his hammer game helped him shine.

The three Rhinemaidens – Andrea Carroll, Svetlina Stoyanova and Virginie Verrez – delivered an impeccable performance, their crystalline voices weaving together beautifully to extol the glory of the Rhinegold.

Laura Servidei | 04 November 2024

There was considerable excitement in the air at La Scala preceding the performance of the first installment of a new Ring Cycle. Though there are other Ring cycles happening the world over at any given moment, more than in any other period since its creation, this one is at the world’s premiere opera house, not known for Wagnerian tradition. Its previous Ring took place a decade ago under the baton of Daniel Barenboim.

There was also disappointment in the air, as this Ring was supposed to be Christian Thielemann’s, but today’s leading Wagner conductor had cancelled, allegedly for health reasons. His decision may have involved uncertainty after the venerable opera house forced Dominique Meyer’s retirement following an age regulation passed by the Italian government. Indeed, one wonders how anyone may uphold Meyer’s impressive legacy. Others were curious about the staging by Scotsman David McVicar, a conventional choice compared to more adventurous directors. The result was not disappointing though it was predictably McVicar: visually appealing, straightforward and without clutter. This suits the majority of opera goers who’ve recently endured a global-warming-inspired Parsifal, an octopus Rusalka, Salome in a brothel, and La bohème on a spaceship.

Adventure films in exotic locations such as the Indiana Jones franchise seems to have been the inspiration for the sets. A high degree of exoticism marked this production: native tribal imagery and sets and costumes informed by Africa, Asia and South America (rather than Europe) are favoured. This is in line with today’s less Eurocentric worldview, even for the Norse-mythology-inspired Der Ring des Nibelungen. It’s a legitimate viewpoint that all fairy tale traditions are interrelated. Renewed visuals inspired by various cultures are welcome.

The opening scene augured well: the Rhine‑maidens, richly‑clothed and sporting stylized haircuts evocative of Audrey Beardsley (1872‑1898) and Arthur Rackham (1867‑1939), swam amid three huge severed hands. In a homoerotic representation, a male dancer, symbolizing the Rhine‑maidens’ guarded gold, was accosted by the scheming Alberich who stole it by snatching the semi‑nude dancer’s mask. Masks figured heavily in this production. When Fasolt and Fafner take away Freia, they removed the gods’ masks, possibly a metaphor for power, worn by the Gods.

Four dancer/acrobats, dressed as Buddhist monks, acted as servants to giants Fasolt and Fafner, moving the gold exacted from Wotan. The two giants were indeed quite tall – over four metres – thanks to stilts in addition to gigantic arms and mask attachments that made them look like folkloric creations from the South Pacific. In other scenes, two of the dancers stood behind Loge and moved their arms in sync with him, emulating a Hindu deity. The Gods, male and female, were dressed in Elizabethan robes. Fricka reassembled Elisabetta in Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda or Roberto Devereux. Wotan’s dress was neutral, while sly Loge’s dress was decidedly more feminine. It was not clear what the androgyny of the male Gods signified, or if it was intended to make a striking visual effect. In this, it succeeded.

Nibelheim’s gate was a huge golden head, reminiscent of Skull Island in the King Kong film, The House on Skull Mountain (1974) and other horror films. Alberich’s disappearance and transformation was skillfully executed. The initial transformation into a snake evoked the skeleton of a slithering Chinese dragon. The Nibelungen were interpreted by short extras, likely children from the Coro di Voci Bianchi dell’Accademia Teatro alla Scala (as they are credited, though they do not sing.) They were dressed in gowns that covered their faces, a clin d’œil to futuristic sci‑fi.

No attempt was made to show the passage of Wotan and Loge to and from Nibelheim. A mere canvas was drawn down during their voyage. This was a visually impressive production that did not interfere with the plot. Having seen several productions of Das Rheingold, this is one of few a newcomer could easily follow and hope to comprehend. The androgyny of the Gods and the exotic inspirations may have been an attempt to be au courant with societal trends.

At the opera’s end, the gods’ ascent to Walhalla was slow and belabored, despite Freia (goddess of youth and beauty) being restored to them. This image showed the gods at their most vulnerable and presaged hard times. Although I welcome a comprehensible narration free of weird concepts that have plagued past stagings, one wished for the Tetralogy’s central theme of Love and Power to be more central. Likely this will be the case for future installments.

Australian conductor Simone Young, though somewhat tepid, was up for the task. The opening music was less luxurious than one would have hoped for in such a prestigious theatre, but the Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala were brilliant after the first two scenes. Throughout the performance, Young made sure the orchestra did not obscure the singers, but gave them free reign in the orchestral passages.

In contrast to Young’s neutral conducting and McVicar’s conventional staging, the singing was magnificent. The main roles, likely chosen by original conductor Thielemann, were some of the best available. The cast was dominated by Michael Volle, a leading Wagnerian baritone, recently admired in Gurrelieder at La Scala and in Der fliegende Holländer in Dresden and Düsseldorf. His Wotan had natural authority, and thanks to his superb phrasing and acting, he perfectly conveyed Wotan’s patrician rank.

The second most remarkable member was Austrian tenor Norbert Ernst, whose Loge was more spirited than most, especially in this staging, where his feminine attributes were exaggerated. For some, McVicar’s idea of emphasizing Loge’s femininity is misogynistic, as it insinuates that craftiness is a feminine trait. Mercifully, Ernst avoided excess in his phrasing.

South Korean bass Jongmin Park and Estonian bass Ain Anger were especially effective as giants Fasolt and Fafner, easily delineating their different characters through their voices (as the contraption to make them giants afforded minimal visibility of their faces or physical acting). Icelandic baritone Olafur Sigurdson impressed as Alberich. He seemed to revel in the character’s cruelty, whether harassing the Rhine‑maidens or surveilling the Nibelungen. His reprehensible character was brought into focus when he realized he was outsmarted by Wotan and Loge.

Ukrainian lyric soprano Olga Bezsmertna, admired last season as Rusalka at La Scala, was a luminous Freia. Her beautiful and youthful voice was a perfect fit. German mezzo Okka von der Damerau, recently heard in Gurrelieder at La Scala, was an authoritative Fricka. Her creamy mezzo contrasted pleasantly with Bezsmertna’s bright soprano.

The rest of the cast were more than adequate, though a veteran Erda, goddess of the Earth, German mezzo Christa Mayer failed to convince. Her appearance as a white‑haired witch did not help. Austrian tenor Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke brilliantly conveyed Mime’s terror of his bullying brother, Alberich. South African tenor Siyabonga Maqunqo’s timber was too bright for Froh. Andrè Schuen, the only Italian in the cast, impressed with his diction, as well as his warm and expressive baritone, as Donner. Despite being sartorially Elizabethan, he looked and acted like the virile god of Thunder.

At the opera’s end, considerable applause mixed with discernible boos that I believe were unwarranted. The most likely targets were Simone Young’s conducting, masterfully competent but not exceptional, and David McVicar’s staging, visually appealing but not innovative or provocative. In the case of those unhappy with the conductor, it was likely a case of missing Christian Thielemann, understandable but unfair. In the case of the staging, it’s less understandable. For once, here was a staging that recounted a fairy tale in a visually appealing and narratively understandable fashion. Most of all, it avoided introducing an agenda alien to the story. With the overwhelming majority of La Scala’s public, I impatiently await the next installments of the Ring.

Ossama el Naggar | Teatro alla Scala 10/28/2024

Wagner mit Spinnweben: „Rheingold“ an der Mailänder Scala

Vor dem ersten Akkord, bei dem die Kontrabässe ihr tiefes Es wummern, wird es erst einmal stockdunkel. Sehr angemessen ist das, die Welt will schließlich erst erschaffen werden. Und hier treffen sich sogar die beiden Opernhäuser. Im Münchner Nationaltheater sieht man kaum die Hand vor Augen, in der Mailänder Scala gut 24 Stunden später immerhin einen roten Punkt. Es ist ein kleines Licht an der Spitze von Simone Youngs Taktstock. Und dann, geschätzte 30 Sekunden später, trennen sich auch schon die beiden Premieren: Wagners „Rheingold“ in Oberbayern und in der Lombardei, das sind verschiedene, sich fast ausschließende Opernwelten.

Dass zwei Musentempel von dieser Güte den „Ring des Nibelungen“ innerhalb von zwei Tagen starten, gab’s wohl noch nie. Die Scala mag es nicht mit Münchens Wagner-Tradition aufnehmen können („Rheingold“ und „Walküre“ wurden im Nationaltheater uraufgeführt), doch im dicken Programmheft blickt man, gewürzt mit entsprechenden Fotos, stolz auf vergangene „Ringe“ zurück. 1973 stand zum Beispiel Wolfgang Sawallisch, Münchens Opernlegende, im Graben, später dirigierte Scala-Chef Riccardo Muti. Und zuletzt gab es 2013 ein „Rheingold“, ein Import von der Berliner Linden-Oper unter Daniel Barenboim, Michael Volle sang damals den Wotan.

Michael Volle bleibt der zurzeit wichtigste Wotan
Auch jetzt steht er wieder auf der Bühne und müht sich ein wenig. Irgendwie hat er’s im Kreuz oder in den Beinen. Vokal gibt es nichts zu kritteln, im Gegenteil. Volle untermauert in der Mailänder Premiere seine Position als wichtigster Wotan unserer Tage. Kraft, bestechendes Textbewusstsein, Nuancierungen, das macht ihm zurzeit keiner nach, da hat Münchens Neu-Wotan Nicholas Brownlee einiges aufzuholen – und das wird er auch.

Doch eigentlich war der Mailänder „Ring“ als große Christian-Thielemann-Sause gedacht. Der Potsdamer sagte vor einigen Wochen das komplette Dirigat ab. Eine Sehnen-OP, wie er schrieb, und gab dem Haus gleich noch eine verbale Ohrfeige mit: „Schwierigkeiten“ gebe es dort. Das „Rheingold“ teilen sich nun Alexander Soddy und Simone Young, Letztere übernahm die ersten Vorstellungen. Und führte in der Premiere gleich mal vor, wie man das Stück dirigiert. Zügig, drängend, mit unforciert aufblühenden Phrasen und gelegentlichen Muskelspielen. Aber alles dort, wo es sein muss, und immer eingepasst in einen natürlichen Entwicklungsverlauf. Echte Kapellmeisterkunst und großes Theaterbewusstsein: Simone Young ist geschätzte zehn Minuten früher fertig als Vladimir Jurowski, der sich in München mit kühler Analyse verpuzzelte.

Wer in den zweieinhalb Stunden auf die Scala-Bühne blickt und noch vom fulminanten Münchner „Rheingold“ zehrt, erlebt allerdings eine kalte Dusche. Regisseur und Bühnenbildner David McVicar ist mit Kostümbildnerin Emma Kingsbury nicht mehr eingefallen als ein Rücksturz in alte Deko-Zeiten. Man trägt rissige Renaissance, anfechtbare Kopfbedeckungen oder Fantasy-Schick, an Wotans Speer hängt irgendetwas zwischen alten Pflanzen und Spinnweben. Die Rheintöchter räkeln sich auf drei Händen, Walhall ist ein Treppenturm und zwischendrin Alberichs Nibelheim ein goldener Riesenschädel, den kennt man schon aus McVicars Berliner „Idomeneo“. Alles sieht aus wie eine Mixtur aus Karajan der Sechzigerjahre und ein dürftiges Harry-Kupfer-Imitat.

Das Rheingold ist ein Tänzer
Das stücktitelnde Edelmetall ist hier ein Tänzer, dem Alberich die Maske vom Gesicht reißt. Auch später tanzen ein paar Jungs, das Bild dieses so besonderen Raubs wird jedoch kaum fortgeführt. Was das Götter-, Riesen- oder Zwergenpersonal miteinander zu tun hat, bleibt David McVicar schuldig. Die Solistenriege sucht daher ihr Heil im Posieren, im Verwerten oft erprobter Bewegungen und gern auch den „Callas-Point“ auf. Der ist links neben dem Souffleurkasten, da klingt es im großen, akustisch trockenen Haus am besten.

Wer gestisches Singen beherrscht wie Michael Volle, ist fein raus, denn da wird die Premiere interessant. Auch Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke, der mit der Mime-Partie lustvoll jongliert, zählt dazu. Oder Olafur Sigurdarson, als Alberich für den schwer erkrankten Johannes Martin Kränzle eingesprungen. Von seinem Kalle-Wirsch-Kostüm lässt sich Sigurdarson dabei nicht beirren. Okka von der Damerau ist von der Erda zur Fricka befördert worden und bringt eine aparte, wohltönende Dosis Heroinen-Charme mit. Christa Mayer singt eine eindringliche, wortklare Erda, Jongmin Park einen robusten, rau timbrierten Fasolt, André Schuen einen gepflegten Donner. Norbert Ernst bleibt als Loge zu monochrom, muss leider mit zwei Tänzern choreografische Gymnastik machen und kassiert vielleicht auch deshalb ein paar Buhs.

Sogar als Simone Young auf die Bühne kommt, regt sich teilweise Unmut. Die Mailänder (manchmal bezahlten) Loggionisti sind da gnadenlos und legen ihr offenbar zur Last, dass sie nicht Christian Thielemann heißt. Vorzuwerfen hat sie sich nichts, im Gegenteil. Auf vielen Positionen luxuriös besetzt, dazu eine Kennerin im Graben: Musikalisch ist dieses „Rheingold“ eine Ansage, nicht nur an München. Mit Blick auf die Regie sei kostengeplagten Wagnerianern dagegen gesagt: Sie können ihr Reisebudget schonen.

Markus Thiel | Stand:29.10.2024