Wagner's 'Die Walkuere': the music, first and last

Musically this new production of Die Walkuere at Covent Garden was a triumph. Sir Antonio Pappano, who became the first ever “Conductor Laureate of The Royal Opera” on the very day this new production opened, had marshalled his forces to tremendous effect, helped of course by magnificent singing. The new production by Barrie Kosky seemed almost superfluous, except that it did manage to create irritation where none was needed, but more on that as we go along.

The love between Siegmund, lyrically sung by French tenor Stanislas de Barbeyrac as a desperate escapee from battle, and Sieglinde, beautifully performed by Welsh soprano Natalya Romaniw, was slightly spoilt by having Siegmund throw himself around an almost empty stage, evidently traumatised. That bare stage represents the house she shares with her husband Hunding, strongly sung by the physically imposing American bass Solomon Howard, dressed as a security guard, complete with ID-tag.

The beautifully lyrical scene where Siegmund sings, Keiner ging, doch Einer kam, as he welcomes a sudden glimpse of springtime, was spoilt by the sudden re-appearance of a mature naked lady (meant to be Erda) producing a tray of blossoms and scattering them around. What’s wrong with a bit of clever lighting, leaving Siegmund and Sieglinde alone on stage? Yet the lighting remained very cold.

And as for the sword that his father (Wotan) once left for him in his hour of need, stuck in a tree trunk where no-one has ever been able to pull it out, he retrieved it from the back wall of the stage and thrust it into what turned out to be … Erda. A comment on human destruction of the environment — who knows? But a beautiful scene was spoiled by such egregious perfidy.
The one aspect of the production I really liked came in the second act when Wotan’s wife Fricka dissuades him from supporting Siegmund, convincingly arguing that the man is no free agent, despite Wotan’s protestations to the contrary. She is so often a dowdy and demanding wife in a loveless marriage, but here, though the marriage is loveless, Russian mezzo Marina Prudenskaya arrived in a 1930s limousine looking a million dollars in jewellery and an elegant purple dress, and gave a powerful performance.

Christopher Maltman made a very fine and superbly voiced Wotan in a black suit, white shirt and red tie, while Swedish soprano Elisabet Strid with a mass of blond hair sang a sympathetic Bruennhilde. When Siegmund faces Hunding, after Bruennhilde has switched sides and decided to disobey Wotan’s new intention to abandon him, his sword seems to break by magic, rather than clashing with Wotan’s spear. Hunding then falls backwards from his perch on the ancient tree roots, and remains lying dead flat behind them, a small coup de théâtre.

The tree itself has a large opening where an aged Erda stands for much of Act III until she turns away and vanishes, and the tree provides a big surprise at the end. It remains to be seen next year, in the new production of Siegfried, how they will manage his journey to find Bruennhilde, but we seem already to have been given an altered translation in the surtitles where the rock (Fels) on which she is left abandoned was replaced by the word Baum (tree). Kosky has produced some imaginative and stunning productions. He is personable and his huge enthusiasm may well inspire the singers to give their best, which they clearly did here.

Indeed, it’s the music that counts, and Sieglinde’s O hehrstes Wunder! Herrlichste Maid!, after Bruennhilde has told her she is pregnant, and foretold that her son Siegfried will forge the sword anew and use it again was stunning. The orchestra, a huge part of the success, appeared on stage at the end.

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