Melbourne Opera / Reviews

I remember reading Götterdämmerung being described as ‘the longest, densest and most musically challenging of the four Ring operas’. In Melbourne Opera’s new Ring cycle, yes, it was the ‘longest’ – just – if still a swift 4¼ hours. ‘Densest’ can be a synonym for obscurest and the story picks up where Siegfried ended and after the three Norns have told us much that we have already seen, we learn how Wotan is resignedly waiting in Valhalla for his ex-Valkyrie daughter and his grandson (!) to bring about the end of the gods and by so doing redeem the world. Brünnhilde – the morning after the night before – sends the rather dim (at least in Suzanne Chaundry’s production) Siegfried off to perform ‘deeds of glory’. However, the forces of evil are still alive and kicking, and the malevolent meddling of Alberich’s son Hagen, desperate to get his own hands on the all-powerful ring, results in bitter betrayal for Siegfried and Brünnhilde. In the Hall of the Gibichungs, Hagen convinces his half-brother, Gunther, to let him drug Siegfried to forget Brünnhilde and marry his sister Gutrune and take a kidnapped Brünnhilde as his bride. At the planned double wedding, Brünnhilde realises she has been betrayed and – in a major plot hole – turns against Siegfried and swears revenge, revealing to Hagen how he can kill Siegfried. After Siegfried has been brutally murdered, Brünnhilde’s final enlightenment leaves her to make the ultimate sacrifice and she rides her horse into his funeral pyre (I’m still waiting to see this staged!), ending the world and bringing about the long-awaited ‘Twilight of the Gods’.

About the time Wagner was completing Götterdämmerung, it's said that Bendigo was the richest city in the world, thanks to sitting on a pile of gold. How appropriate! These days, this is mainly evident in its gracious architecture both public and domestic, including the splendid theatre, fashioned out of an old gaol. In this culminating chapter of Melbourne Opera’s Ring Cycle in Bendigo, Suzanne Chaundy’s direction makes crystal clear the intricacies of the betrayals and delusions that bring about this Twilight of the Gods, in consort with the excellent singing and acting of the all-Australian cast. The effective set continued to do its good work, particularly in depicting the Gibichung Hall, creating an impression of sumptuousness with minimal effect, mainly golden drapes around the space, with a river vista now sunny, now dark and foreboding.

"It's been an extraordinary thing thatMelbourne Opera has managed to mount entire Ring Cycles - with Suzanne Chaundy's very traditional embodiment of the action (and Warwick Fyfe's magnificent singing as Wotan) in that beautiful country city, Bendigo-aValhalla of a retreat for those who could enjoy it, and it came with a seminar from the wonderfully named Siegfried Jerusalem.."

The performances were at a consistently high level, hallmarked by skill and subtlety. Chief among them was Warwick Fyfe's Wotan/Wanderer. Fyfe, an artist of great vocal and intellectual strength, was a compelling stage presence, essaying Wotan's fearsome bellicosity as well as his inner turmoil. There were times when one feared him. but also, especially in Siegfried, when one felt his pain and sorrow.

Each interaction has its own texture. The first act throbs with longing as Siegmund finds his place in the world and he and Sieglinde recognise one another. Egglestone’s desperate cry to his father – “Wälse! Wälse!” – was spine-tingling and Abrahmsen poignantly moved from unease to rapture, even when tested at the lower end of her range. The Act II confrontation between Wotan and Fricka (Sarah Sweeting) is a tough battle of wills. Sweeting swept on looking a million dollars in a glamorous gown (by Harriet Oxley) and clever horned headpiece. Her formidable presence was magnified by an implacable mezzo which sported a chill in the lower depths that would freeze any opponent. Wotan is an impossible dog to keep on the porch but this Fricka knew precisely how to bring him to heel.

Richard Wagner’s famous pronouncement, ‘Kinder, schafft Neues!’ (‘Children, create something new!’), has often been the inspiration to take daring creative risks, particularly (but not exclusively) with productions of his works. Using The Ring as a starting point, directorial licence has been extended in all sorts of intriguing ways that have, over the years, seen Valkyries roaring around on motorcycles, Rhinemaidens as strutting Victorian doxies, the dragon Fafner at the turret of an army tank, Wotan as a Texan oligarch, Siegfried as a hippie, and Gunther and the Gibichungs as Nazis. How refreshing – how unusual – then to see Suzanne Chaundy’s new production of Die Walküre. No cycles, other than the one usually attached to the word ‘Ring’, and no confusing ad libitum subplots or backstories. In a word: traditional. But not completely so. Mahler’s equally famous statement, ‘Tradition ist Schlamperei!’ (‘Tradition is sloppiness’) certainly does not apply to Chaundy’s staging, which, although a straightforward storytelling, has an edginess and quirkiness all of its own. It is also energetic and enthralling. Chaundy achieved as much a year ago with Das Rheingold, the Vorabend to The Ring. But in the vast reaches of the Regent Theatre, not a natural place for opera, there was a lack of intimacy between stage and audience. The Walküre was a different story from a different, more preferable venue: the smaller, more intimate Her Majesty’s, which holds its own distinguished operatic history. Any fears the theatre might prove too compact were banished immediately. If anything, the production fitted the stage perfectly, with Andrew Bailey’s ingenious and stylish set blending, as if by design (so to speak), with the warm décor of the auditorium and embracing the audience. Betwixt stage and auditorium, the Melbourne Opera Orchestra (all ninety musicians, including four harps) were snugly accommodated in the pit. In the event, the result, in visual and sonic terms, was a faithful realisation of Wagner’s vision of Gesamtkunstwerk: to meld music, text, and production values into a seamless entity. At the heart of this was conductor Anthony Negus, whose fluid and sensitive account of the score emerged with distinction and clarity; never bombastic or prosaic, but always attentive to the balance between individual instruments and the performers on stage. Although Negus, a disciple of the great Reginald Goodall, shares that legendary Wagnerian’s knowledge and scrupulous attention to detail, achieved through long rehearsals. Negus does not (thank heavens) share Goodall’s famous predilection for slow tempi. Instead, it was clear, right from the first jagged, stormy bars of the Act I prelude, that the music would indeed draw one into each act, as if into a vortex, and maintain its elasticity and power. The orchestra’s playing was simply superb, with an inner strength to the strings and remarkable breath control from wind, brass, horns, and (of course) Wagner tubas. Die Walküre is, in essence, a series of encounters and conversations that determines the subsequent operas in The Ring. The momentum towards the twilight of the gods is driven by a combination of contradictions: between love and hate, life and death, morality and immorality, invincibility and vulnerability. Sometimes, though, there is so much going on in Walküre that it is hard for an audience to grasp the dramatic significance of what is happening in the music. Chaundy’s particular skill is in depicting the directness of the human relationships from which the tale develops. For example, the key narrations of Siegmund and Sieglinde in Act I; Wotan’s long unravelling in Act II; the Brünnhilde–Wotan excoriations of Act III. Also, quite often, Chaundy goes back to the source, by observing Wagner’s own detailed stage directions, as noted in his scores. Chaundy also adds a few supernumeraries (two henchmen for Hunding; two extra Valkyries on sway poles; a few deceased warriors destined for Valhalla), but these are more helpful than gratuitous. Bailey’s set is almost another character in itself, and is hardly inanimate. A huge platform with a Ring-like hole in the middle, centres the action, as well as serving as a sort of drawbridge between the darkness of Hunding’s hut, the wild and rocky place of Act II, and the mountain summit of Act III. Rob Sowinski’s lighting, underwriting the action, was respectful, telling, and vivid. The costumes, by Harriet Oxley, were inspiring and fetching – especially Wotan’s impasto cloak, which could easily be framed and hung on a wall, and Brünnhilde’s slinky, art-deco dress. The cast could barely be faulted in terms of musicianship and dramatic qualities. Warwick Fyfe, long an acclaimed Alberich, was equally compelling as the dwarf’s nemesis. Fyfe, a strong-voiced, tireless, magnificent Wotan, adroitly portrayed a god at the end of his tether, but whose own human frailties are just below the surface of his grandeur. Zara Barrett’s lithe and lyrical Brünnhilde, a little underpowered at the beginning, gained in power as the evening went on. She is a performer to watch. Likewise, Sarah Sweeting’s Fricka, embodied all her character’s hauteur and chilly sense of self-righteousness. The excellent Siegmund of Bradley Daley, already a significant Siegfried in international opera houses, was lustrous and powerful. His equally matched Sieglinde, Lee Abrahmsen, should, I hope, in time consider Brünnhilde. Steven Gallop, a saturnine Hunding, was expertly portrayed. The eight spear-waving Walküren (Rosamund Illing, Eleanor Greenwood, Jordan Kahler, Olivia Cranwell, Naomi Flatman, Caroline Vercoe, Sally-Anne Russell, and Dimity Shepherd) sang with gusto, penetrating accuracy, and more than proved themselves worthy members of the closest Wagner ever got to a chorus line. By the end, as Brünnhilde lay in her ring of fire and Wotan ruefully trudged off the stage, it seemed to me that the performance encapsulated all the magical qualities of Die Walküre. It is a hard opera to bring off, and Wagner’s Curse (whatever goes wrong, will go wrong in spades), thankfully, was not invoked. Instead, this was one of those rare nights when everything seemed right with the world. This triumphant performance must be regarded as a glory for Melbourne Opera. It augurs well for the rest of its Ring. Die Walküre is presented by Melbourne Opera at Her Majesty’s Theatre. Performance attended: 9 February 2022. Final performance on 16 February; also at Ulumbarra Theatre, Bendigo on 27 February.

Finally liberated from the solitude of our lounge rooms and Netflix subscriptions, sitting in Melbourne’s Regent Theatre shoulder-to-shoulder on Wednesday night felt like a forbidden treat. The palpable exuberance of being back on the town, though, was tempered by a profound appreciation of our delicately privileged position. As the first major opera performance in Melbourne after a protracted Covid shutdown of the live performing arts, Melbourne Opera’s Das Rheingold marks an important moment in the cultural life of the city – the beginning both of Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle and of a new chapter in the living operatic history of Melbourne. Wagner’s complex works are rich in symbolism and metaphor (both musical and dramatic). The specific symbolism of Rheingold at this moment possesses a certain relevance, if not gravitas. Against the backdrop of a disease spread from animals to humans, and with fires raging in Western Australia, an ancient story about the pillaging of natural resources in pursuit of wealth and power is not without its modern-day parallels.

It’s a paradox of truly operatic proportions. How can a 152-year-old work that’s largely about the end of all days feel timely and ultimately uplifting?In Das Rheingold, the first of four operas in his epic Ring Cycle, Richard Wagner’s evocative score allows the observer to escape into a world of myth and magic, while the plot parallels many aspects of life as we currently know it. At the opening night of Melbourne Opera’s new production there was also a sense of community reunited. Togetherness long missed, by artist and audience alike. Wotan (Eddie Muliaumaseali’i) and Fricka (Sarah Sweeting). Wotan (Eddie Muliaumaseali’i) and Fricka (Sarah Sweeting).CREDIT:ROBIN HALLS At its most fundamental, the Ring Cycle is about an all-powerful ring, the creatures, gods and men who wish to possess it and the impending doom that will consume them all. Rheingold follows Alberich, a dwarf, who steals gold from the depths of the Rhine and fashions a ring from it, and the god Wotan’s pursuit of the ring. As the slimy Alberich, baritone Simon Meadows gives the standout performance of the night and his career. Consistent character and impeccable German text sung over a 90-piece orchestra is no mean feat! MO stalwart Eddie Muliaumaseali’i (Wotan) proved he has the booming voice and gravitas to portray the king of the gods. Of the all-Victorian ensemble, James Egglestone (Loge), Michael Lapina (Mime) and Sarah Sweeting (Fricka) are superb. As is often the trap in portraying otherworldly beings, some of the gods appeared stiff and one-dimensional, though Roxane Hislop’s Erda is extremely memorable, both for her rich, commanding voice and how her scene is mesmerisingly designed. The overall concept is director Suzanne Chaundy’s finest to date. The entire creative team is to be commended for this clever, slick and stunning realisation.