I have been an opera patron for about 15 years, and my first love is Richard Wagner’s epic Der Ring des Nibelungen (or simply The Ring). In 2010 the Metropolitan Opera presented a new production of the 15-hour four-part opera, replacing a classic and much loved version directed by Otto Schenk that endured for 20 years. This new version is the work of Robert Lepage.
The key to the new production is “The Machine,” a 40-some-ton set of planks designed to rotate independently and serve as sets and backdrops for most of the action. The planks tilt and undulate, and projections of oceans, mountains and forests add the depth of scenery. In the first part of the Ring tetralogy (“Das Rheingold”), the mechanics failed on the maiden performance to configure into a bridge for the gods onstage to cross, so the performers were forced to simply walk off the stage at the climax.
Like movie buffs, we opera goers know what we like, we watch for certain elements in a performance and can get testy when things don’t look right by our preconceived standards. For example, it was not unusual for opera fans to boo Pavarotti at La Scala if they didn’t think he was performing well. Some things one just can’t control in live theatre, but when a piece of machinery is the main source of your production’s entertainment value, mechanical flubs will get bad reviews as scathing as those for a bad tenor.
In the Met’s next to last production of the 2010-2011 season, on May 14, the machine rebelled against the gods again. This time, the mechanical behemoth caused a delay of 45 minutes in the start of a performance the Met was broadcasting to worldwide movie audiences as well as 4,000 patrons in the opera house. I was one of the latter.
After presenting tickets, the audience members milled about the lobby in increasingly oppressive heat (a lack of lobby ventilation/air conditioning, combined with 4,000 human bodies, is a bad combination). An announcement came saying that–surprise– there was a delay. Most of us knew right away that The Machine was to blame, though there were also concerns for conductor James Levine, who is a stalwart at the podium but in sub-perfect health.
We were finally admitted to the auditorium by an apologetic staff about ten minutes past the scheduled start time, because they felt we would be cooler inside. The crew was still at work on the planks. The show started at 12:45 at last, and the planks appeared to function properly for the entire performance.
The cause of the problem was attributed to the computerized communication system that keeps each plank properly aligned for each new configuration, but we were not told that by the Met staff. The movie audience received that tidbit, and I learned it from the online news.
So how was the performance? Having been to a handful of complete Rings during the 20-year run of the Otto Schenk production, I find this version needs something more, but what is uncertain.
It starts promisingly, with a pursuit through the plank’s projected stand of trees. I particularly enjoyed Jonas Kaufmann as Siegmund and Hans-Peter Konig as wronged husband Hunding. I’m still on the fence about Bryn Terfel’s take on the fountainhead of the gods Wotan, though he seems more powerful in this performance. The proof of a good Wotan comes at the climax, in which the god renounces his own daughter and summons fire to surround the rock on which he has left her in a deep sleep. Terfel strove hard to be torn between his roles as god and parent, and he gets points for that. Stephanie Blythe plays Wotan’s wife Fricka, and her presence is stunning, especially when riding into a scene in a chariot flanked by golden rams. She puts her husband in his place effectively.
Also worth noting are the title Valkyries, eight warrior daughters and Brunnhilde heading the brood, all mighty women with powerful voices. Their task is to bring dead heroes to Valhalla to protect the gods, but in this interpretation they must bag up the discarded bones of said heroes, which lay about the set. I’ve seen versions in which they drag deadweight stunt doubles around, but this method didn’t seem necessary.
At the climax of the production, Brunnhilde is suspended upside down on a wall of well-behaved planks, surrounded by projected flames, with a distraught Wotan taking a knee in front of the orchestra. Some of the visual power was lacking from what is normally a profound scene. That being said, I know that any new production needs to get its roots in before it blossoms, so I’m holding off on a thumbs down for now. There are still two operas left, to come this fall and next spring. The gods will fall, because it is in the script, but I hope the Met can make sure they don’t fall with them.
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