Six Hours in the Mall; Thinking about Götterdämmerung Live in HD

In 1980 a film crew came to Bayreuth to capture Wagner's Ring cycle at the close of the infamous centenary production by Patrice Chéreau. The Chéreau Ring opened amidst controversy and outrage and divided the public in debates that spread over years. In a documentary about that filming the point is driven home that filming the complete ring cycle for television would bring this music to a new audience. They did not film in front of a live audience but did capture each act from start to finish without stopping. Looking back at the Chéreau production, the use of media as a form of documentation was part of its visionary appeal. 

A new audience was exposed to Wagner's Ring Cycle through the Met's Live in HD technology, and though we have grown accustomed to the technology, it remains a miraculous system worth pausing to consider. The complexities of transmitting these operas as live events was significant, but a new and much wider audience has been able to understand the amazing physicality of these works; qualities that can be disguised through the editing of recordings.

Anyone emerging from the six hour event found themselves in a cinema, and would have discovered when they walked into the lobby how strange it is when the mythological is incongruously juxtaposed against the ordinarily commercial.

Listening to Wagner requires a special kind of meditation. One must be able to follow his arc into motions that are almost completely still. The 21st century asks that we do this in cinemas and shopping malls. And we did.

The Lepage production, like the Chéreau before it, has generated new conversation. Though its use of technology has been fairly criticized, it is worth remembering that the technology was not only "the machine" itself, but was also the inclusiveness of the transmission and the context in which we shared these events.

This production of Götterdämmerung opened with the norns weaving ropes suspended from planks that resembled part of a bifurcation fractal. The ropes seemed to extend as they twisted and to even become braids of hair. The prolog of the opera sets a diabolically referential musical language against alliterative refrains and a structure (3 norns each speaking in turn 3 times) derived from the oral tradition. The machine was dazzling as this scene was introduced, and then just as importantly, it became still so that we could absorb the rest without distraction.

But the Immolation scene was a disappointment. It was THE place where we would have expected the most remarkable fantasy of which "the machine" is capable. In the cinema it looked like Deborah Voigt rode a merry-go-round horse to a Barbecue.

The singing in this production, as in all three other operas, sustained interest. One of the unexpected treats was to hear the German soprano Waltraud Meier as the Valkyrie Waltraute. Her vocal presence gave immediate credibility to one of the most important, and easily overlooked exchanges in Götterdämmerung. Han-Peter König sang a resonant and chilling Hagen, and Wendy Bryn Harmer impressed as Gutrune.

It was amazing to observe how quickly tenor Jay Hunter Morris has become a fixture at the Met. He brought a welcome sense of humor to the role, and gave us a reason to rethink all stereotypes of the the heldentenor sound. Imagine what he will do next.

The Met orchestra, conducted by Fabio Luisi, made a deep impression with consistently clear textures powerful rhythmic drive. Sometimes lost in the conversation about technology is the simple reality that old-school virtuosity speaks for itself.

Review of Siegfried Live in HD; Long Live the Machine?

Jay Hunter Morris

Wow! The Met broadcast of Wagner's Siegfried, which was beamed to theaters worldwide as part of the Met Live in HD Series, was the most consistently entertaining production of Siegfried I have ever seen. Bar none.

I have been critical of the Lepage production of Das Rheingold and especially Die Walküre for the simple reason that "the machine" has distracted from great singing. In this event, the technology gave us new insights into what was possible in this opera. They were insights that harmonized with the singers; harmonized in a score where characters most often confront one another, and sing alone.

The opening transition showed us the underside of nature. For every beautiful tree there are worms crawling ominously underneath it. We discovered this, once again, in the Northeast last weekend during a sudden storm that turned our trees against us and left many of us without power.

Mime (Gerhard Siegel) and Siegfried (Jay Hunter Morris), developed the first act in a setting enlivened by power. There were two small waterfalls and a stream, and the background against which the singers worked was in constant subtle motion. The water images of the first two acts countered the fire images of Act III. One wonders if the images of moving water inspired a particular kind of relaxed and fluid vocal performance. The music itself seemed to flow, free from the stagnant, ponderous segments that seem inevitable in other productions.

Siegel sang an inspired Mime. He accented many humorous strains in this dwarf, but turned evil at just the right times. Everyone was sorry to see him killed off. When asked by Fleming during an intermission interview where he gets ideas for the comic gestures of his Mime, he replied that he is given training every time he observes people on the sidewalks of NYC.

Morris has justifiably become a star by virtue of being given the chance to sing this role. He delivered. Though generally appreciated in all the reviews, I think that the grand tradition of Siegfried singers makes it harder to hear the uniqueness of the way Morris approached the part.

Siegfried is dangerous. The great singers have sung the part with ferocious simplicity, scary confidence, and monumental force. Singers like Max Lorenz, Gerhard Stolze or Lauritz Melchior defined the sound, the attitude, and the ideal. At least it was ideal for the 20th century. It is often very possible to dislike the character and what it represents. Maybe the 21st century would be wise to continue to develop other sides of Siegfried. Morris has a light voice and sang with finesse and agility. He could be powerful but was not powerful all the time. His voice had shimmer, and he worked through persuasion rather than force.

The character felt complex. Morris reacted to other singers and developed a wide variety of believable interactions. Few would have ever known he was not originally chosen for this production. Given the press spin on his newly found stardom, few also realize that Morris has paid his dues and came upon this opportunity through a rigorous preparation. Get used to this guy. He is a legitimate star.
 
The female voices in this opera emerge from sleep that symbolizes death. Patricia Bardon sang a chilling Erda, and Deborah Voigt had been asleep since last April when we saw her, Live in HD, being placed within the ring of fire. Voigt found both power and lyricism in warm colors.

Bryn Terfel impressed as the wanderer, his sound seemed to float with the calculated vageries of the delicious chords that are associated with the wanderer throughout the opera. Eric Owens never disappoints. Even though Alberich's music is limited in this opera, Owens made sure that Alberich had presence.

The fire-scene was staged by the machine in a format that looked a little like a Hibachi I had when I was in college. But the production imparted a continuous fairy-tale quality that seemed central to the intention of the music itself. The production worked in the cinema. It became the "movie" version of Siegfried for which we never dared to ask. Finally the machine has risen to the level of the singing. Long live the machine? Don't get carried away.

Met Live in HD; Das Rheingold. Richard Croft is the Elvis of Loge

Circuits have been abuzz about Robert Lepage's new Rheingold production at the Met. But we were raised in an age of cinematic technology. How would it look in a cinema: would Wotan be Indiana Jones?

The production translated onto the silver screen with mixed results. One could imagine the vast spaces of the Met where the motion of the machine must have been spellbinding. The visual impact of the Rheinmaiden scene lived up to the hype. But often, as in the transition from the first scene to the second, we could never get the right angle to sense the depth of the action.

More than technology, we should have focused on the educational potential of this endeavor. It was unforgettable to have the opportunity to hear Wagner in a movie theater.

Imagine. This was the experimental stuff--an opera without duets; without any singing in harmony after the Rheinmaidens leave. This was continuous music sung in high German set in syllabic style derived systematically from prose. It was performed live and beamed all over the world for people eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Forget the technology. It was singing that made this production memorable. Just singing.

What a cast: Bryn Terfel as Wotan, Stephanie Blythe, who sang a buttery Fricka, and Gerhard Siegel who made Mime memorable. Franz-Josef Selig sang Fasolt with such deep romanticism that one wonders why Freia (played by Wendy Byrn Harmer) returned to the Gods at all.

Bass-baritone Eric Owens was an impressive Alberich. Owens is familiar from his role in Doctor Atomic. As Alberich his sound was edgy, his diction fierce. His intensity made the curse real. Owens manufactures drama at will. His Alberich was alter-Wotan.

Richard Croft was the Elvis of Loge. His singing was filled with cleverness; full of windows that opened on new ideas. He voiced the the surprisingly lyrical music near the end of the second scene with curves as lovely as the silhouette of Freia lit with magical red light from the bottom of his hands.

A good Rheingold creates both stillness and tension. It is a strange opera. Perfect for a movie theater.