I must admit that my heart sank a little when I read the programme for the "semi-staged" production of Wagner's Rheingold at St Mary Redcliff on Saturday Night. Programmes contain director's notes and Wagner seems to send directors completely insane. (I cherish a Flying Dutchman programme in which the director solemnly states that in the interests of clarity he had set the story in a disused telecommunications factory in Kyrgyzstan.) Alexandra Denman, the brains behind tonight's show was faced with the admittedly daunting object of depicting dragons, giants, dwarves, mermaids and a rainbow bridge in a series of one-night stands on relatively small stages. She came up with the astonishing idea of "setting Das Rheingold in the world of Samuel Beckett". I have rather lost track of how many Becket-ish opera-productions I have seen. The final act of Tristan, which certainly involves a lot of waiting, is a particular minefield.
I get that enormous opera singers with pig-tails and viking helmets look ridiculous, and also a little bit Hitlery. But do those of us prepared to sit through a 150 minute opera want to be told that it's okay, Fasolt isn't really a giant, he's "a normal human being searching for love" and that Wotan isn't a god after all, merely "a lost soul seeking enlightenment." I fell in love with Wagner at the age of 14 and never really recovered precisely because I wanted to hear stories about God's, Demi-Gods and Heroes. Many of us really positively want stories about gods and monsters. Just ask Peter Jackson.
Fortunately, the Production Idea didn't unduly interfere with the Production.
Small-scale cut-down intimate productions of operas are not uncommon -- a group called Opera Project regularly bring some Giacomo or Guiseppe to the Tobacco Factory -- but "intimate" Wagner is obviously more of a problematic. Tarnhelm's solution is to perform Rhinegold in churches and cathedrals, with Wagner's vast orchestral score rearranged for the organs, with a full cast of singers and some well concealed percussionists banging away at the drums and the musical anvils.
To my devoted but inexpert ear, it worked astonishingly well. I think the organ struggled a little bit with some of the subtler moments (Wagner does have one or two of those). The very first notes of the opera, where a single chord gradually gathers pace and becomes an aural picture of the River Rhine didn't seem to quite work without the depth and thickness of a full orchestra. But for the big glorious booming climaxes the organ is big and loud and booming: when the three Rhine-maidens open up their treasure chest (a little petty cash box) and. bathed in golden light, burst into their "Rhinegold, Rhinegold!" anthem, I knew things were going to be all right. Organs can do brass a lot better than they can do strings, I suppose. All the musical climaxes were in place: Alberich cursing the Ring; the Giants murdering each other; and Donner summonsing a storm. (Donner -- Thor to you and me -- wielded a magic cricket bat rather than the more traditional hammer, and Wotan's spear had morphed into an oar, but let us not quibble.) Anything that was lost in power and volume was made up for in clarity and intimacy. Robert Felstead's Loge pretty much stole the show, both for his lyrical voice and his very decent acting; Wotan and Fricka were finely characterized as well. Alberich struggled to make himself heard over the organ in the opening scenes, but was devastating in his big cursing-the-ring moment at the end.
The world of Samuel Beckett only intruded peripherally. Everyone was dressed in very shabby clothes; there were some bowler hats in evidence. Alberich wore a filthy white vest; Loge a natty coloured waistcoat. (The giants were in overalls with "GIANT CONSTRUCTION" written on the back.) Erda, for her one appearance, was carrying a black umbrella, which immediately made everyone think of Winnie in Happy Days. Winnie is buried up to her waist in earth; Erda is the Earth Mother, get it? Well, no, nor me: but Erda as a severe Victorian matron worked perfectly well as a piece of characterization. There was some silly stage business in Nibelheim which seemed to suggest that Alberich didn't really turn into a dragon or a frog but only fooled Wotan and Loge into thinking that he had -- waving a toy dragon under their noses while they were looking through binoculars. But Loge manages to capture him anyway and the rest of the story proceeds as normal.
My, but Wagner is long, isn't he? I mean, I know that Rhinegold is scarcely any longer than Avengers: Endgame, but Avengers: Endgame isn't in German. It begins gloriously and ends sublimely but there is an awful lot of mucking about in Nidelhelm in the middle. One is almost tempted to say that there are great moments and dreadful quarters of an hour.
Presenting the entire Rhinegold in a relatively small venue with a relatively small company is a relatively massive achievement; and the audience were suitably appreciative. Reservations aside, I will be first in the queue if they are going to attempt Das Walkure next year.
You might even say that I am Waiting For Gotterdamerung. (Oh, very good.)
1 comment:
I think I would have liked to see this. It pains me that, at the age of 51, I have never seen a Wagner opera. Sadly, these productions — even the bijou intimate ones — rarely visit places like Ruardean Village hall. I must try to get into the habit of going to Bristol more often, or even Cardiff.
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