Metropolitan Opera Review - 'Gotterdammerung:' A Sublime Celebration Of Richard Wagner's Bicentennial

Few artistic experiences are as fulfilling as concluding an experience of Richard Wagner's "Ring Cycle," especially when it is delivered with such gravitas as the Metropolitan Opera's current revival. On Tuesday, March 23, the venerated company delivered a cathartic performance of "Götterdämmerung" the final work in the tetralogy.

The Met's ring production by director Robert Lepage has come under well-documented scrutiny these past few years, but was at its best behavior on Tuesday evening. Noise was infrequent though there were some strange sounds (like water going up and down a rotating tube) as the planks swiveled about. Lepage's fourth installment offers up the most dynamic configurations for the. During the first scene, the planks were attached to ropes and slowly start circling one by one and breaking off the ropes. As more planks became "unhinged" and the Norns talked about the inevitable fate of the world, the planks rotated with greater speed and created an effect of chaos. The ensuing scenes do not really tread new ground that hasn't been seen before, but the spaces are far more open and allow the performers freedom that was often impeded in prior installments of the Ring. Wood becomes a dominant image throughout the event. The Gibichung home is built out of the resource, but the wood and its circular, linear designs remind us the impending doom and the ring itself. There are some bizarre designs projected on the planks during the Norn scene and in between changes; they seem to suggest the otherworldliness of these characters.

The final act offers up the most fascinating and frustrating tableaus. The scene in the forest is well designed with central planks showcasing the river banks. When Gunther washes his blood-ridden hands, the entire river becomes engulfed by red; it is a powerful moment that emphasizes the magnitude of Siegfried's death. Few moments in this Ring production ever really match the power of the music, but this one comes as close as any. The grand finale continues to be frustrating however, but there are some improvements. The horse's slow pace makes Brunnhilde's ride into the flames feel a bit awkward. The God statues falling apart still feels a bit cartoony and does no justice to the imperious nature of Wagner's score. However, one particular moment has been improved tremendously. In the original performances, Hagen would chase after the Rhinemaidens in another unintentionally comic display during his "Zuruck vom Ring." This time around, he catches them at the center of the stage and the four characters "sink;" this actually works better with the idea cycling back to the beginning of "Das Rheingold." That opera starts off with Alberich in the water with maidens; since Hagen is the extension of Alberich, the fact that he sinks to the depths with them before the entire world restarts itself actually adds a thematic layer to the production.

The production worked as good background for the singers who provided riveting performances in all facets. Leading the charge was Deborah Voigt in a performance to remember. From the onset, Voigt was a magnetic presence that drew the listener and viewer in with her supreme sense of control. Vocally, Brunnhilde is as hard as it gets and Voigt was up to the challenge. Her high range was in full blossom, but her vocal display was riveting for its other facets. She matched tenor Jay Hunter Morris phrase for phrase in the cathartic opening duet; their voices rang through the ever intense orchestral playing of the Metropolitan Opera orchestra. During her scene with Waltraute, Voigt sat still and listened intently; her fixed stare created a sense of mystery. She covered up the Ring and as her sister implored her to help the Gods, Voigt's Brunnhilde looked unaffected; she really did not care for the Gods. As Waltraute pleaded with her, Voigt remained stern and unyielding; her ensuing "Schwinge dich fort! (Take yourself off!)" were delivered with icy authority. However in the ensuing scene with Siegfried/Gunther, she was frail; as she walked off stage, she looked helpless, almost destroyed.

Voigt's shining moment came in the second act as she accused Siegfried of his betrayal. As she delivered the powerful "Betrug! Betrug!" her voice exploded with a conglomeration of fury and mortified pain. As she swore on the spear, hatred dominated her glare and she delivered her phrases with biting accents that emphasized the anger. She was equally aggressive in the concluding trio as she attacked Gunther's lack of manhood; her voice shone through the orchestra and her two colleagues.

The immolation scene is one of the iconic soprano scenes in all of opera and Voigt was more than up for the challenge. She chastised Gutrune with little remorse and proceeded to showcase glorious legato phrasing as she knelt beside her beloved Siegfried ("Wie Sonne lauter strahlt mir sein Licht.") As she sang the phrases "und doch, alle Eide, alle Vertrage, due treueste Liebe trog keener wie er! (No one ever betrayed all of his oaths, treaties, his greatest Love as he did!)" it almost felt as if she was about to break down from the enduring pain of the betrayal; the moment was heart-breaking in its execution. As she rode off on Grane, Voigt delivered the final triumphant proclamations with heroic power; it was the ideal sendoff for a truly mesmerizing performance.

Jay Hunter Morris continued his powerful rendition of the hero with an equally insightful display. From the start of the evening, it was clear that his Siegfried was no longer the boy he portrayed in the previous installment; this was a fully formed man. His voice resonated wondrously through the theater and he performed with polished phrasing throughout the evening. As he came onstage for the final scene of Act 1, he almost sounded like a baritone; the tone was darkened and the phrasing had a staccato feel that portrayed Siegfried/Gunther's rigid and threatening demeanor in this scene.  Even as he tired toward the end of the night, Morris displayed an incredible fortitude in Siegfried's most difficult moments. He delivered the bird's song/narrative with relative ease despite the passage's notoriously difficult moments. His soft delivery of his death scene ("Brunnhilde. Heilige braut!") melded beautifully with the action on screen. He incorporated a few subtle crescendos in the phrases but would slowly regress to his softer colors; it emphasized the characters' struggles to remain alive.

The defining attribute of this performance was in Morris' ability to highlight Siegfried's ambiguity as a hero. As he takes the potion from Gutrune, Morris looked at it with some guilt before singing to Brunnhilde; it almost seemed as if he knew exactly what he was doing. During their confrontation at the end of Act 1, Morris actually looked about the mountain as if remembering where he was; moments later he turned away and returned to the task on hand. When the two characters met again in the second act, Morris' Siegfried circled Brunnhilde as if remembering what he had just done; he immediately looked away from her. When she accused him, he couldn't bare to look at her, guilt all over his face. In the final act, Morris covered his face in shame at several points, especially when the Rhinemaidens chastised him for his behavior. At the end of the narrative, there was a moment when the other men asked him to continued his story and Morris looked about nervously; it was not that he forgot, but simply did not want to reveal his love for Brunnhilde. This performance made the often-ridiculed potion spell plausible and deepened the portrayal of the character. Like Wotan, Siegfried is an adulterer and a traitor. He is cognizant of his actions, but his free will and sense of exploration make it impossible to avoid his impulses. Siegfried finds Gutrune attractive and his desire is to do anything to make love to her. However, the remorse catches up to him and in his dying moments he realizes the truth: It wasn't a silly potion or a trick from schemers that caused his downfall; it was his own fault.

In the role of the treacherous Hagen was the omniscient Hans-Peter Konig. Konig appeared in each of the four operas and was potent in each one; his voice booming voice is impossible to ignore. In this performance, he seemed a bit uncomfortable in his upper reaches at some points, but his portrayal of the villain was just as powerful as his aforementioned colleagues. Konig emphasized Hagen's sense of isolation throughout the night. He stood away from the crowd during the wedding scene, his probing stare suggesting scorn and anger toward the proceedings. His stone-faced glare suggested an aggressive nature being held in check and awaiting its moment to unleashed. During his scene with Alberich, Konig's Hagen stood still as well. This scene not only reminded the viewer of the isolation but also emphasized its root and cause; Hagen is trapped by his heritage. He is the offspring the world's most reviled being and even if he hates his father, he can't eliminate who he is. He is stuck.  

Karen Cargill had a defining performance in her scene as Waltraute. She began her narration with subdued tones and slowly built a crescendo that rang over the equally potent orchestra. Then she sat down and sang about Wotan's broken heart and his remorse over Brunnhilde; her voice was a delicate thread that emphasized the God's fragile state and her gradual diminuendo in this passage was arresting and truly immersive. When she saw the Ring, she became possessed; it was clear that her pleas for the Ring were not for the good of mankind but her own gain. This added dimension made the final confrontation of this scene riveting.

Iain Paterson created an empathetic portrayal of Gunther. From the start of the work, it was clear that he was a weakling that was easily controlled by his wiser brother. However, he was endearing toward his sister and accommodating with Siegfried. At the start of Act 2, his voice beamed brilliantly as he announced his marriage; the confidence was at its peak in this moment. However, as this scene unraveled, Gunther's weak stated became highlighted. He looked away from the crowd and remained on the outer limits of the stage. During the vengeance trio, he sat in a chair covering his face for an extensive period of time. He eventually got up to ask for vengeance, but the delivery seemed half-hearted; it emphasized Gunther's impressionable personality. When he entered in act 3, he drank from the horn and remained on the margins; only when Siegfried came to him did he budge. In this scene, his singing was heavily accented, as if he were looking for an outlet to throw out his frustrations. However, he turned away as Siegfried recounted his story. As Siegfried died, the remorse took over. Paterson held the hero in his arms and when his hands were stained with his blood, he worked tirelessly to clean them. In the final scene, Paterson's Gunther was pure fury. His death had a tragic dimension; a man undone by his inability to contest his opponents before it was too late.

Eric Owens continued his mesmerizing turn as Alberich. As he entered in the short scene at the start of Act 2, it was clear that the villain was withering away. Alberich walked about slowly and his right arm was held limp by his waist, almost as if immobilized. His voice was soft, but had a snarl about it. Every single time he sang the words "Schlafst du, Hagen, mein Sohn?" he added a delicate touch to the word "Sohn" almost as if trying to manipulate Hagen with the word; it created a powerfully sickening feel for the listener. His repetitions of the final words "Treu" were equally haunting.

Like Owens and Konig, Wendy Bryn Harmer has been a staple of this cycle. She was Freia in "Das Rheingold" and played one of the Valkyries in "Die Walkure." As Gutrune, Harmer brought a frailty to the character that provided a brilliant counterpoint to Voigt's Brunnhilde. She looked as if she was about to breakdown during the tension of the second Act and delivered visceral laments at the end of the work.

The trio Norns (Elizabeth DeShong, Michaela Martins, and Heidi Melton) provided absorbing performances; their rigid stage presences created an ominous atmosphere. As the three Rhinemaidens (Jennifer Johnson Cano, Renee Tatum, and Disella Larusdottir) were a brilliant counterpoint to the Norns; they were agile, playful, and their voice rang with gleeful unity.

Fabio Luisi has progressively come into his own during this cycle. The tentative moments in the first two installments were nowhere to be found in "Götterdämmerung." The prelude, with its intertwining of motifs from previous works was nuanced in its execution. The thundering horns were balanced with slow crescendos from the strings' rendition of the Rhine motif. "Siegfried's Rhine Journey" was well paced and even had a bouncy feel to it that portrayed the carefree nature of the voyage. In the passage before the Waltraute-Brunnhilde scene, Luisi brought the orchestra to a hushed state in the middle of the transition. He slowly built up a powerful crescendo that exploded at the return of the Valkyrie motif. As that scene came to an end, the violins' sharp bites on the sixteenth runs create an ominous feel. In the final scene of that act, Luisi introduced a few sustained pauses as Brunnhilde exited the stage; the silence between the phrases was powerful in its portrayal of the emptiness felt by the heroine. The prelude of Act 2 had a powerful air of mystery with its piercing woodwinds and frightening tremolos. The immolation scene in Act 3 was cathartic in its execution. The orchestra unleashed its full power in the cataclysmic moments but was at its most glorious during the delivery of the "Brunnhilde's love" motif. The final phrasing was chilling; the slight rubati in the melody created a yearning and nostalgic sense.

In the "Siegfried" review, this writer neglected to include some comments on Horn soloist Erik Ralkse; that was rather unfortunate because the soloist delivered as polished a rendition of the famous motif as possible. He was just as brilliant in "Götterdämmerung" and provided a strong reminder of the great musicians at the Metropolitan Opera.

As the applause erupted, this writer felt a tremendous sense of nostalgia; the kind one feels after a long journey that will undoubtedly never repeat itself in the same way. More Ring cycles are surely on the way and those who have an opportunity should surely not miss out on the opportunity to experience one of the most fulfilling artistic endeavors ever. Happy Birthday Richard Wagner! The Metropolitan Opera has surely done you well.