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A battered 1950s fridge provides the essentials in Act I of Die
Walküre (the second part of Wagner’s four-part Ring
des Nibelungen)
that is often
performed as a
stand-alone opera.
Sieglinde’s
life-restoring drink
for the exhausted
Siegmund (on flight
from his enemies) is
a can of beer from
the fridge. After
serving her
abusive husband
Hunding(bass-baritone
Soloman Howard) some
slab of meat, there
is Hunding’s
night drink which
she laces with
sleeping powder on
the kitchen table
when he’s not
looking, causing
chuckles in the
audience.
In this first-ever production of Die Walküre at Santa Fe Opera,
British theater director Melly Still starts out with unusual notes of
humor to introduce the fateful reunion of Siegmund and
Sieglinde, the twins who were violently separated in childhood.
When the stranger barges into the hut in the forest, Sieglinde
hides behind the fridge. He collapses in a shabby armchair and
she pokes him to check if he's dead. When he's not, there is a
palpable wonder and curiosity between them, convincingly acted
by both singers. Nevertheless, the modernized approach with
fridge and humor weakens Wagner’s orchestral drive of danger
and mythical urgency.
Sieglinde, sung by Lithuanian soprano Vida Miknevičiūtė in her
Santa Fe debut, appears as a worn-out woman who has not lost
her spunk: she teases the attractive stranger by offering, and then
withholding, his beer. The magic sword that waits for him in the
massive tree trunk, serves as a hook for a dishcloth. Siegmund,
tenor Jaimez McCorkle (also in his Santa Fe debut), has the look
of a man who has spent his life in the woods. He has matted hair,
tattered clothes and furs, and the patient observation of a hunter.
The beauty of both voices is thrilling. McCorkle’s lyrical, pearly
tenor and her silvery soprano are accompanied by superb
understated acting, fluid movement, and a growing intensity that
never seems forced.
Wagner’s clever libretto and musical use of leitmotives let the
spectators be a step ahead of the suspense- the question how and
when the twins will recognize each other. In what could be called
the longest foreplay in the history of operatic passion, it takes the
entire act to reach the ecstatic conclusion.
There are other spectators, however, in Still’s conception of the
opera. On the upper tier above the hut, a luminous presence in a
long flowing dress is watching while she winds a red rope
between stakes. She looks like a Norn, one of the mythical
weavers of destiny in the Nordic tradition Wagner’s Ring is based
on. It turns out to be Fricka, the goddess who watches over the
laws of marriage. There's also the shadow of a man in the coat of
a wanderer – the god Wotan, her philandering and plotting
husband. Wotan tries to pull the strings against Fricka’s control.
He secretly arranged for the reunion of the twins, his love
children from a human woman.
Other figures appear in this tale of adultery, incest and deceit: we
see a shadowy Alberich, master of the underworld, who stole the
gold from the Rhine and fashioned the all-powerful ring by
swearing off love -- the woman-love Wotan can’t let go of. Both
need a human being to break the curse of the ring. Wotan hopes
for the child of the twins (the future hero Siegfried); Alberich has
already paid off a woman for sex and is watching, waiting for his
loveless son (the grim Hagen of Part 4, Götterdämmerung) to be
born.
All these characters of Wagner’s Ring briefly appear in Still’s very
theatrical production with its intriguing set design by Leslie
Travers (Light design by Malcolm Rippeth). They show up on the
upper tier or pass back and forth through the enclosure of the
lower level. It looks like a fence or wall, but consists of elastic
strings that allow figures and objects to slide through or
sometimes burst through. It’s an ingenious metaphor for a world
where gods and otherworldly creatures come and go.
Two inspired scenes particularly demonstrate Still’s theatricality.
Dark presences enter the space where the twins are left alone in
the night. Like Noh players, they slowly, almost invisibly, remove
everything around the couple. Every object, including the fridge,
seems to evaporate and the twins are alone in their universe of
longing. The stage splits open to let in nature and spring;
Siegmund sings his love song, “Winterstürme” (Winter storms)
that evoked the union of Spring with “his sister, Love.” Sieglinde
responds, “Du bist der Lenz” (You are the spring I have been
yearning for.”)
But the mysterious agents that opened the space for them now fill
it with a web of cords. Siegmund and Sieglinde are not free to
love each other: they are pawns, entangled by the Gods who are
themselves caught in the strings attached to the cursed ring.
For one moment, the couple manages to shake off the fetters
when Siegmund gains the sword and she leaps into his arms. As
they kiss he swings her around like a child, and they run off into
the night.
Equally gripping is the flight scene that starts Act II. The dark
presences slowly surround the terror-stricken Sieglinde with tree
shapes and gently bed her in a glowing womb-like trunk when
she loses her senses. In a half-dream, she relives the trauma of
her abduction as a girl in a briefly enacted scene. Siegmund’s
death by Hunding is staged like a clash of Titans, with smoke,
electrical flashes and sparks flying between Gods and mortals. No
winner remains.
The rest of Act II and III is also thoughtful and rich with ideas but
not quite at the same level of psychological subtlety and
conviction. Bass-baritone Ryan Speedo Green’s Wotan has stage
presence but none of the world-weariness of a defeated God. He
is too easily trapped by wife Fricka, clear-toned mezzo Sarah
Saturnino (SFO debut). Both lack any erotic charge in their
dispute about adultery and incest. His long confession to his
favorite warrior daughter, the Valkyrie Brünnhilde, is sung with a
monotonous gravelly voice that does not carry enough emotional
weight. The crucial monologue is further weakened by the mini
-scenes of illustrations still probably provides to help the
audience picture the backstory (Rheingold).
Green comes into his own when he is the raging, threatening
Wotan. His voice gains power and he looks stunning with the
tattoo of runes on his naked torso.
Almost half of the opera is over before the title character really
gets into action, when Valkyrie Brünnhilde strikes out for
Siegmund against her father’s ambivalent orders. The effect of
soprano Tamara Wilson’s strong, appealing dramatic voice is
unfortunately somewhat hampered by her awkward costume and
stage presence. While all the other singers are agile, fluid,
timeless, Wilson’s Valkyrie is like a 19th century Wagnerian
cliché: stout and planted with not much of a rebellious spark or
personality.
Her appearance is so stereotypical that the audience broke into
laughter when she stepped forth with her famous battle cry “Heia
-to-ho.” By contrast, the eight other Valkyries strutted around in
spectacular outfits belonging to different historical battle zones.
The jolly bunch of warrior maidens would have deserved more
center space but oddly, Still keeps them out of sight on the upper
tier while below, bloodied human beings – or are they horse? --
battle with more strings for way too long.
The end with its engulfing fire is a surprisingly satisfying scene as
the punished Brünnhilde is banned to her rock as a mortal who
must await the man who will kiss her awake. Wilson and Green
have convincing emotion in their good-bye scene that seals the
victory of power over love.
The orchestra under James Gaffigan was more melodious and
measured than passionate, but brought the final scene to an
effecting crescendo while Wotan’s fire soared in a large, beautiful
pane of glass.
After four and a half hours of consistently engrossing ideas, Still
ends with a last poignant symbol.. Her final image embodies the
doubtful fate of both gods and humans by opposing good and evil,
curse and redemption on top of the stage: Sieglinde, pregnant
with her love child, faces the equally pregnant woman bought
with gold. It’s a terrific cliff-hanger that lets one hope Still will
tackle the next two segments of the Ring, Siegfried and Götterrdämmerung (Twilight of the Gods) in the near future.
Photos: Curtis Brown for Santa Fe Opera
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