Michael Henderson

The Master’s voice

Götterdämmerung<br /> Salzburg Easter Festival

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It would be grand to report that the evening was an unalloyed success. Rarely, however, do Ring cycles gather critical garlands at the time of their making. Even the Chéreau–Boulez collaboration, which is now regarded as ground-breaking, failed to convince all eyes when it was unveiled at Bayreuth in 1976. It is doubtful that this latest cycle, directed by Stéphane Braunschweig, will be recalled a year from now, never mind after three decades of reflection.

When you consider how much time and effort goes into the construction of a Ring cycle, it beggars belief that its staging should have been entrusted to a person who, on the evidence submitted, has nothing to say of a work about which virtually everybody has said something in the past century and a half. There was nothing in this Götterdämmerung, as there was nothing in the three previous operas, to shock (in the best sense), surprise or delight, though the final image, of the Rhinegold gleaming from the depths of the river, was pleasing. Nor was it an out-and-out bore. It was simply another Ring, which made one wonder: why bother?

It got off to a poor start, with the Norns spinning a particularly feeble Rope of Destiny, the only props being three chairs which appeared to have been borrowed from a meeting of the local Rotary Club. Then we were off to the rocky crag where Brünnhilde dwells, except this fabled mountain top took the form of ugly grey panels beloved by a certain kind of modern architect. Nor was there any sense of the Rhine, which is one of the major characters (if unspecified) in the whole drama. Gunther’s Palace amounted to an armchair, and a row of steps. My my, how these directors love their steps, even if nobody actually sets foot on them. At least the lighting was good in this scene. But nobody shells out £400 to witness Götterdämmerung to admire the lighting.

Much of the staging could have been pulled off, for a fraction of the cost, by an am-dram society in Chorleywood. Anyone for tennis? They were here, as Hagen’s vassals gathered in the great second-act chorus wearing all-white togs. However, when we reached the final scene, where Hagen runs Gunther through with his sword, the acting would have disgraced a school play. Gunther is a weak man, duped by his evil half-brother, but there is more to make of the part than Gerd Grochowski managed in an undernourished performance that was only partly mitigated by the fact that he took to the stage with a cold.

Vocally, it was not a distinguished evening. Mikhail Petrenko may yet grow into a fine Hagen but Dale Duesing made a pallid Alberich, Anne Sofie von Otter was slightly underpowered as Waltraute, and Katarina Dalayman, so compelling last year in the surging final act of Siegfried, sounded harsh as Brünnhilde, and, in the closing scene, out of puff. Emma Vetter’s Gutrune was acceptable. The Norns and Rhinemaidens were so-so. For a major festival — two major festivals — it was not good enough.

In the circumstances one must be charitable about Stefan Vinke, the German tenor, who was roped in (by the Rope of Destiny) to sing Siegfried instead of the indisposed Ben Heppner. Vinke’s voice is not an instrument of beauty, and in his first scene he was swamped by the orchestra, but he rose rather well to the challenge of the third act when Siegfried, recalling the events of his young, soon-to-be-extinguished life, makes some sense of his experience.

Taken separately, therefore, the parts did not add up. The staging was moderate, the singing unexceptional and the playing far too loud (did nobody take a meter reading at rehearsal?). Yet the sum was greater than all those parts, as it so often is, because the man who wrote Götterdämmerung was a genius of the highest order. High marks then to Rattle and his players, and, though one says it through gritted teeth, to Braunschweig. He may not have got it right, but at least his staging, thin though it was at times, did not get in the way of The Master’s voice. When Wagner speaks, if we are wise, we should all listen.

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