La Monnaie Launches Castellucci's New RIng

After more than a few viewings of Romeo Castellucci's new Das Rheingold for the Théâtre royal de La Monnaie, I still have some questions, some confusion, but I welcome those. I've always been one to welcome productions that provoke and confuse me, particularly when I find them to be so beautifully thought out by the director that they allow expansion of thought as to the deeper or hidden meanings - even if those are made up in my own mind. It's all about perception and response isn't it? (The answer to that is yes.)

Before the first note of the prelude begins we behold The Ring. This is no finger-sized piece of jewelry, but rather an enormous circle that appears to have been dropped from the Universe and and we observe it spinning, oscillating, and whirling on its edges, powered by its own force. We witness it velocity - speeding up and then slowly stopping, before finally laying down . . . and then disappears.  As the music begins, the stage is dark, barely illuminated at all as one strains one's eyes to make out the barely perceptible nude figures of The Rheinmaidens, and their dopplegangers who dance and move, intertwining their bodies gracefully into dramatic looking postures. Soon enough appears Alberich, whose initial demeanor is of a physical grotesque figure, yet somehow Christlike in his physical posture.  The image is striking . . . powerful.   

The change from this dark, eye straining watery, almost primeval underworld to that of the gods could not be more contrasting. In true Castelluccian fashion we are transported to a white, museum-like space populated with antiquities in various stages of ruin. This combination of secular, biblical and sacred makes for a wildly diverse, and not unperplexing visual.  The detail of much of this would be - would have to be - lost on a live audience, although it is so worked through that I believe it could probably have be felt. As example one of the reliefs, suspended on its side, depicts the theft of the Menorah from Solomon's temple. This image, while certainly specific also states a universal truth about theft and its consequences which, in turn, relates to the story at hand.  Cross culturally that is a lot to take in, but as with so much of this director's work, it lelts us probe deeper into this story we may think we know inside and ot . . . or just sit back and be entertained. Neither is a wrong approach. 

Does any of this bare real weight, or increase or change the drama at hand? Maybe yes, maybe no.  But it is fascinating to look at in the grand scheme of things, and the similarities we find in our own stories and connection.  But, I digress.  

The next scene begins with the figure of a man; barefoot, wearing a high waisted black robe resembling some Orthodox cassocked religious figure, a tall, black crown in his hands. He is facing away from the stage, and soon the floor beneath him is flooded with near nude figures writhing and undulating as if some collectively they were some great human river. We have met Wotan. Fricka enters, identically dressed, and the pair awkwardly, and with obvious difficulty navigate themselves over the bodies. I know this drove people crazy, but I loved its obvious symbolism. Interestingly, all of the gods are dressed in the same manner, while Freia stood out with a kerchief atop her head, rather than a crown.. 

The entrance of Fasolt and Fafner, here twins, provides further opportunities of exploratioin, th s time a re-examining of the brothers. Tall, with bare torsos, each mouths the words the other is singing, manifesting a connection and unity unique to twins. I was struck by this and it put the giants into a new light, and made all the more devastating the fratricide which I think not coincidentally puts us in mind of the original first murder: Cain and Abel. 

The scene became even more fascinating with Castellucci giving the gods child doubles. The child gods do all of the interacting with the giants making them seem even more immense.  It also emphasizies the futility and helplessness of the gods in this confrontation. The children are wonderful, their lip synching near perfection. 

Loge, appears, rotund and balding, clad  in a crimson short set, a flame rising from the palm of his hand. We notice a separateness by this demigod from Wotan and company. It accentuates his status as an outsider which is all the more evident by his almost tourist-like appearance.  During his great monologue about the fading gods, their aging, etc., we get a Castelluccian parade led by an elderly, frail Wotan and Fricka, then workmen, who wheel out enormous portraits of Birgit Nilsson, then Astrid Varnay as . This moment, with its pointing up of Wagner's text, felt like both an enormously comical yet a profound statement on art and on our relationship with it. 

 

Nibelheim is a stark, mechanized world,  hardhatted workmen, cylinders of gas, girders, and that beam we first saw Alberich tied to in the first scene.  Mime is a manipulative sadist and the interactions between the gods and the Nibelungen escalates - as written - ending with Alberich being tricked (as always) but here, stripped of his grotesque outterself to reveal a human being. Naked and humiliated, hanging and tortured it is a difficult and horrific thing to behold.  Alberich is increasingly covered in some black, oily substance and his last gesture to Wotan, his torturer, is to smear half of the god's face with it, leaving a sort of mark (of Cain?). Chilling. 

Upon the return from Nibelheim, there are robed figures chipping away at the rear stage wall, revealing, little-by-little - an enormous gold circle in which we make out some reflection of the stage action. It eventually falls, dust flying  up from it, and somehow - as if by magic - becomes an enormous circular hole - a void in the earth. Following Freia's freedom, Donner instead of swinging his hammer, holds one of Freia's golden, life giving apples.  He recedes towards the center of the stage, extends his arms in cruciform and falls backwards into the void as a rainbow faintly appears on the wall. My heart nearly stopped and I was grateful I was at home or the audience would've heard me gasp out loud.  The rainbow disappears, then reappears for each god as he/she repeats the action, falling into the void. Finally the image of Wotan, his face, and white robe stained with the black from Nibelheim approaches the circle, kneels behind it and seems both moved and frightened by the Rheinmaidens disembodied cries, moves before it and, extending his arms, falls into the void. Loge stares out, smugly smiling at the audience, then pointing to himself asking, "Me?" We know better.

There is simply so much going on in Castellucci's mise-en-scene,  the mind can barely take it all in visually, and, like a sort of balm, Wagner's great genius takes over and washes over everything. To me, if seemed as though the director felt the music could not just bear up under his ideas, but emphasize his own actualization of them.  Audiences are certain to be split down the middle, but for me, after seeing so many other concept Rings, found this one so . . . filled with mystery and wonder that I absolutely revelled in every moment. 

The singing was, to my ears, close to perfection as were the characterizations in this director's very specific ideas of who is who and does what to whom.  There are, alas too many singers to mention, so I'll stick to the three who stood out for me.  Pride of place goes to American Scott Hendricks, who turns in possibly the most beautifully sung, and physically as well as emotionally tortured, brilliantly defined Alberich in my memory. This is, musically and dramatically, a performance that is impeccable and heartbreaking. Tremendous.  

Castelluci puts a unique spin on Wotan, which, I imagine, could be frustrating for a singer. Quieter in nature, less imposing than most, and at times almost self-effacing in his behaviour, we remember nonetheless he is king of the gods.  From his skinhead/military like buzzcut, down to his bare toes, Gábor Bretz embodies this concept of the god to perfection. A sense of tortured humanity radiates from this god. I noticed this when along with Loge, he cruelly Alberich, cruelly, monstrously, yet there was no enjoyment of this brutality, but rather a requirement of fulfilling his position. Bretz is quite possibly the youngest, handsomest Wotan I've encountered, but none of that matters if the voice is not up to the challenge. This one was. The voice is easily, almost seamlessly produced from top to bottom, glorious in its richness and strength and filled with power and expressiveness.  This music feels right in this voice, and I imagine we will be hearing and seeing many more Wotans in his future.  

Nicky Spence brings a completely over-the-top persona to the role of the demigod Loge, and it is is thrilling to watch his self-serving, evil comedian/magician manipulate nearly everyone. The voice itself is a stunner; a rich, gorgeously bright heldentenor with real gleam. A fine actor, Spence seizes every opportunity to make the most of Loge, and thankfully, there are a lot of those.  

Upon repeated viewings, I've changed my opinion abot the reading of the score by Maestro Alain Altinoglu. While I liked it a lot the first pair of times, I've come to absolutely lovehis performance. Perhaps I was so dazzled by the singing and what was happening onstage I just wasn't paying close enough attention to what was coming from the pit.  Altinoglu connects all of the motifs and bits into a seamless whole, and the sound produced - even on video - is so detailed the individual brilliance of the sections, the solos, the harps, come through with a clarity of a studio recording.  His balances and the synchronization between stage and pit seems carefully nuanced, but organic not manicured.  The totality of it makes this one of my favorite Rheingolds in ages, and one I shall return to frequently.  

I look forward to (as in "can't wait for) the rest of this Ring.