Date: June 21 – 26, 2011 (second of three Cycles)
Conductor: Donald Runnicles
Production: Francesca Zambello
Location: War Memorial, San Francisco.
In the final day of drama, the Norns labored in a high-tech company unwinding cables and seemingly connecting them to other circuitries. As they touched the cables, information seemed to be dictated through this wired connection to the world. Projecting against the stage-front scrim was a heat map of a printed circuit board, which lit up in melting fashion after the Norns reached history’s end point. Ronnita Miller, Daveda Karanas and Heidi Melton, in green drapes and black leather gear, were the information facilitator of this system. Their curt movements on stage were compensated by contemplative eye contacts made to each other, speaking volumes as they analyzed the course of history depicted in the previous three evenings. Vocally, they all sang with conviction and robustness.
The Gibichung Hall was a chrome-wrapped penthouse overlooking an expanding empire of industries, and adorned with curvaceous Ethan Ellen furniture. Melissa Citro sang the role of Gutrune with continued shrill, though her acting compensated brilliantly: her character seemed to be this spoiled, Lindsay Lohan-type who partied too much and yearned for something that neither money nor power could easily buy her (drugs apparently will, though Gutrune had more luck drugging Siegfried, not herself). The character of Gutrune also introduced two side plots that on the surface seemed unnecessary: her frolicking in bed with Hagen at the beginning of Act II, and her reconciliation with Brünnhilde in the Immolation scene. While the role of Gutrune was sometimes portrayed to exhibit incestuous tendencies, the direct linkage of Gutrune with Hagen with such physical obviousness was genuinely a progressive interpretation by Zambello. Gutrune’s presence as a sidekick to Brünnhilde seemed to introduce a minor concept associated with this American Ring: that of renewal, women shall rule.
Ian Storey’s Siegfried looked a lot like Morris’ – in fact, the two actors were physically built very much alike. The split duties of Siegfried also worked perfectly in this Cycle as Morris’ vibrant and youthful voice was chronologically followed by Storey’s slightly darker and more mature voice. The big Hoihe was sung off stage, muffling what seemed to be a tight, passionate, and strong delivery by Storey.
At first glance, as Nina Stemme’s Brünnhilde was escorted into the Gibichung Hall, looking horribly mismatched in silver-blue gown and Valkyrie military boots, costume designer Catherine Zuber seemed to have committed a serious faux pas. But clearly Zuber had other ideas: the mismatch perfectly encapsulated Wagner’s vision and the psyche of Brünnhilde as she was unwillingly and forcibly embroiled in the fixed marriage.
Andrea Silvestrelli played an outstanding Hagen, with a menacing and authoritatively-sung bass. The chorus had pockets of brilliance but sounded small whenever they sang deep in the stage work and away from the audience. The orchestra was in top form, and showed why despite my brief moments of disagreement with their playing in the past few days I still find the group to be one of the finest in the world. In the Funeral March, the strings soared with an earnest determination, while the brass set ablaze the War Memorial with brilliance and decadence. Runnicles led a well-balanced orchestra, and took care to modulate pace to great emotive effect.
In the final moments, a child came on stage to plant a tree, as if to realize Wagner’s vision of redemption and rebirth. In Zambello’s version, the rebirth of America despite all the excesses seemed certain; the details, other than the tree planting, were less described and up to the audience to ponder.
Some of the direction was unfortunate: the unceremonious “dumping” of Siegfried into a garbage pile, to be drenched in kerosene and lit alive, seemed to be a disrespectful treatment of a Wagnerian hero. After all, Siegfried was the crucial free hero in this epic Cycle. The Immolation fire was tepid, and comparatively much weaker than the circle of flame surrounding Brünnhilde in Die Walküre. As a rhetorical question, did it take much more to protect and imprison a status quo than to reset the status quo?
If the relentless pursuit of absolute power shall eventually meet its Wagnerian due, the fate of America in Zambello’s vision seemed effectively foretold: nothing less than a total redemption would result in a rebirth. As environmentalism became a side plot borne out of this quest for power, the responsibility to clean up the environment and return what’s “owed” to mother earth, by deduction through Zambello’s storytelling choices, rests squarely with America itself. The feminism line with which this American Ring was associated seemed less clear. While it seemed abundantly clear that several men screwed up (Wotan, Hunding, Alberich), it wasn’t clear why only women (and not just Brünnhilde) were allowed to and responsible for kick-starting rebirth. In the critical moments of the Immolation scene, by way of example, Brünnhilde was assisted by the Rheinmaidens, the misplaced Gutrune, and none of the men. Men only showed up towards the end, when the child planted the tree, as if suggesting that this sexual category of mankind would wind up being merely a spectator/benefactor of any redemption.
Zambello’s nod to California: the gold rush, the Presidio, and Silicon Valley, was appropriate, fitting, and smart. Some elements were lazy: a simple and stale ramp to depict the rainbow bridge to Valhalla; and a giant version of a WALL-E-like machinery, as Fafner’s dragon, with no particular design relevance to the Americanized world of Siegfried. Other elements seemed clichéd but in retrospect cerebrally deft: a decaying of Brünnhilde’s rock and its surroundings suggested a passing of time and highlighted an important plot point; the use of hung portraits as a symbol of fallen heroes; and the planting of a tree to express renewal. There were moments when the plot seemed unnecessary (e.g. Gutrune’s incestuous behavior with Hagen), but they neither infringed upon nor inhibited the singing or the locomotion of the storyline. Zambello’s vision, despite some small flaws, was a laudable achievement. But it was the strong cast, especially Stemme, Jovanovich, and Margita, which ensured a Ring to be immortalized for the ages.