subscribeReflections on Götterdämmerung, Los Angeles Opera
by Nancy Cantwell
Conceived of first and executed last Götterdämmerung, brings to a conclusion the weighty and consummate Der Ring des Nibelungen by Richard Wagner. Last week I had the extraordinary happenstance to attend two performances of this Los Angeles Opera’s production featuring the baton of James Conlon with sets and direction by Achim Freyer. This is a really big show that attracts opera pilgrims from far and wide and I jumped at the chance for a second go around. Thrilled to settle into my splendid founders seat, I was set to experience a most satisfying, up close reprise.
First impressions were allowed to settle down and reformulate with a second viewing, but there are certain things that you just can’t escape with this production. First and most impressive is what a sad fate becomes the child hero Siegfried, sung by John Treleaven, whose voice did not really seem up to the task at hand, but whose performance was pitch perfect. While Siegfried’s music soars, his actions speak to a heroism forged not by some God wisdom, but more that of an ignoble spoiled lesser avatar. As one audience member put it, “what can you expect when you look at the gene pool.” Ill begotten chromosomes aside, Siegfried’s clown like hair, cartoon body and slouchy demeanor all serve to heighten the buffoonish behavior that make him such an easy target for the far more wily Hagen (portrayed deliciously by Eric Halverson). Even the Tarnhelm, the magic helmet that Siegfried procures as part of the booty having slain the Giant turned Dragon Fafner, references more Harpo’s top-hat than a transformative device worthy of such acts of courage. Of course the most treasured procession garnered from Fafner’s hoard is the ring itself and it is at the beginning of act three when the Rheinmaidens try to convince Siegfried to return the stolen gold that we hear him at his most fallen from grace:
“In water and on land
I am now learning women’s ways:
if their cajolery does not convince,
they scare with threats;
and if one dares to defy these,
they start to scold.
And yet,
had I not given Gutrune my word,
I would cheerfully have chosen for myself
one of these pretty women!”
Hardly noble truths to be spoken even under the influence! But such is the curse of the ring. Following his final demise at the hands of Hagen, Wagner gives our woeful protagonist the most regal and valiant funeral march sublimely performed by the opera orchestra as lead by Conlon. Clearly the composer’s sympathies lie with Siegfried, whose hero identity in the time when the Gods reign no more, is assimilated and subjugated to the frailties man.
We are talking about the end-of-time here and Achim Freyer pulls out all the stops to delight and amaze. Every retelling is accompanied by its according symbols. The set is resplendent with Wotan eyeballs, light saber swords, an ever present inverted Loge, incendiary scrim projections and cardboard costumes that behave badly. There is a outright sense of humor expressed as well. Cute bear heads pop up, affectionate taps on the noggin are exchanged, as well as a very Groucho like performance given by Richard Paul Fink as Alberich complete with cigar and tuxedo. Freyer also gave the lighting a character of its own, spotlighting different props repeatedly like a backdrop drone accompaniment to a melodious raga. The final disarray spectacular was worthy of the apocalyptic demise of the Gods. A simultaneous rising and drowning finishing with a literal blinding light. I find it paradoxical that Freyer, a master of German expressionist angst, utilized the Las Vegas based production group Stage Technologies to accomplish this Wagnerian feat, but I’m in favor of what ever works at the end of the universe… and this truly did.
Ultimately it is Brünnhilde who awakens to the enormity, the global endemic scourge of the ring. My favorite production magic takes place in the final act when Brünnhilde sends Wotan’s vigilant ravens back to Valhalla with word of the ring’s return to the Rheinmaidens. The cardboard bird cutouts that have been acting as a shield for the prompters throughout the production are lifted as the ravens are projected onto the scrim and gloriously take flight. It is here in the “Immolation” scene, that closely parallels Isolde’s Liebestod, when cleansed by fire and inspired by compassion, Brünnhilde plants the seeds of a new world order and Wagner becomes transcendent. Having been witness to to this arising twice and having had a opportunity to sort out the staging I was able to concentrate fully on Linda Watson’s masterful delivery in service of this final transformation. It is the kind of stuff that makes converts of even the most ardent opera atheists.
A few final ponderings. Götterdämmerung feels like two operas in one due to all the back fill story telling that goes on and on even into the final aria. Just as Freyer shows us the rise and fall of Valhalla in the final scene so does Wagner seem to wrap up the backward and forwards plotting. The crossing of the Nothung sword and Hagens spear was a gratuitous poke at spirituality. Gratuitous too was the send up in the background of some time stamped computer code. Was he trying make a stab at seeming up to date with digital relevance? Michelle DeYoung was absolutely superb as Waltraute and in the first evening’s performance far out shined compatriots with more stage time. At the start of act two you can hear the beginnings of Parsifal that make you thirst for more. One never really becomes emotionally attached nor drained due to the lack of human physiognomy in the costuming and makeup. Which brings me to a final observation. There was a twinge of misogyny all around. Pendulous breasts painted on like targets were the predominant choice for the portrayal of womanhood. And all the while the congenitally unhappy Hagen sits atop his dead mother whose headless pink body, red teats and heeled shoes face the flooring in submission? Which set my mind off in another direction, in memory of another designer who has also been thought misogynist on occasion and that is the late, brilliant and troubled fashion designer, Alexander McQueen. So here from McQueen’s fall 2009 Ready to Wear collection a strange confluence or coincidence of thought processes at work. So eerily similar are these creations to that of Achim and Amanda Fryer, they fatefully share the same iconography. Please click on images to enlarge.
