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The Sublime and the Banal Vienna
Staatsoper
06/02/2025 - & June 22*, 2025, May 25, June 7, 2026
Richard Wagner: Die Walküre
Anja Kampe (Brünnhilde), Andreas Schager (Siegmund), Simone Schneider (Sieglinde), Kwangchul Youn (Hunding), Iain Paterson (Wotan), Monika Bohinec (Fricka), Jenni Hietala (Gerhilde), Anna Bondarenko (Ortlinde), Stephanie Houtzeel (Waltraute), Freya Appfelstaedt (Schwertleite), Régine Hangler (Helmwige), Isabel Signoret (Siegrune), Stephanie Maitland (Grimgerde), Daria Sushkova (Rossweisse)
Orchester der Wiener Staatsoper, Philippe Jordan (conductor)
Sven-Eric Bechtolf (director), Rolf Glittenberg (sets), Marianne Glittenberg (costumes), fettFilm (videography)
S. Schneider, A. Kampe (© Wiener Staatsoper/Michael Pöhn)
After a visually dull Das Rheingold two days earlier, my expectations weren’t high for this Die Walküre. Sven‑Eric Bechtolf’s production of the first opera of Wagner’s tetralogy was one of the most visually forgettable I have seen.
The first act of Die Walküre opens to an austere set. A lone dining table (or is it a big picnic table?) centered around a tree where the mythical sword Nothung is firmly lodged. I’d say it’s a rather impractical way to eat or socialize, even for primitive people. The only consolation is that miserable Sieglinde does not have as much house work. At the opening of the opera, she’s standing on the table attempting to withdraw the sword. Now that’s novel!
A video projection of a white wolf appears to Sieglinde as a premonition of Völsung’s visit. As the exhausted Siegmund arrives, his chemistry with Sieglinde is palpable. Vocally, Andreas Schager is one impressive stentorian Siegmund. It’s clear that a man with such a healthy voice can face any challenge. Simone Schneider’s Sieglinde was sturdy, perhaps too much so, especially in dramatic moments. Schneider’s soprano is closer to dramatic than lyric. Indeed, one would expect her to soon graduate to Brünnhilde.
Kwangchul Youn was an appropriately intimidating Hunding. Though vocally impressive with his deep notes, his violence towards his bounty bride was excessive. A dominant spouse, even a primitive Norseman, needn’t exhibit such overbearing dominance, especially not in mixed company.
When Siegmund withdraws Nothung from the ash tree, he does so with his back to the tree. Such an effortless endeavour may be spectacular, but it defies the storyline and the hero’s earnest cries. Schager’s cries of “Nothung” were beautiful, powerful and from the hero’s soul. To visually reduce the effort in such a fashion is blasphemy.
Nearly every production makes a point to change the lighting at this moment: winter turns into spring and the Völsung twins yield to their passion. Alas, not so in Bechtolf’s production: there was scant change of lighting; it’s mere lust that makes them give in to their passion, and not the regenerative power of spring.
In Act II, Fricka, the Norse equivalent of Juno, demands retribution on Sieglinde and Siegmund for incest, and for Sieglinde having broken her marriage vows (albeit a forced marriage). Monika Bohinec’s Fricka was vocally and dramatically powerful. Her rich lower notes matched her bossiness. One feels for poor Wotan and understands his wandering eyes (or eye in this case, as Wotan is eye‑patched in this production).
Two golden mannequin heads, akin to the golden body parts the Nibelungen mined in Das Rheingold, are seen in Walhalla. When the giants were paid their gold, these heads were somehow kept by the gods, and instead the Tarnhelm and the ring were given away. The heads are seen throughout the bickering between Fricka and Wotan. I presume they represent Sieglinde and Siegmund whose destiny they are arguing about.
The divine couple may have moved to Walhalla, but they seem to have kept the old furniture. The slabs of rock seen in Das Rheingold prior to the move are still there. Is it Fricka or Bechtolf who is stingy? The only improvement is that Walhalla has plenty of columns. These come in handy in the next scene where Siegmund and Hunding fight, as they subsequently serve as trees. Alas, this scene was poorly staged: it happened too far backstage and in the dark. What a pity; Siegmund deserved a more theatrical death.
Act III opened to a stage with equine effigies crowding the rear of the stage. Bechtolf’s Valkyries are the oddest I’d ever seen. A Valkyrie inaugurated the scene by feasting on a fallen hero’s blood. Unless my eyesight is deteriorating, she was sucking the poor man’s blood. Her appealing garb was silver-coloured, with patches of blood. More blood could be seen on her lower lips. The eight Valkyries assault a dozen running men, either by biting them or whipping them into place. While it’s true that Valkyries are immortal (as are Norse gods), vampirism is not the only pathway to immortality. This was a grotesque image that counters the Valkyries’ function; they are supposed to amass heroes who’ve fallen in battle, not to corral them like cattle. Having dying combatants attempt to run away from the Valkyries shows the opposite of heroism.
The final scene, or at least its first part, was the best of the evening. For several years, Anja Kampe’s Brünnhilde has been one of the best. Her dramatic soprano was a perfect fit and her high notes posed absolutely no challenge. Moreover, she’s agile onstage and in great physical shape, worthy of a Valkyrie. Thanks to Kampe’s crystal clear diction and convincing acting, one was moved to tears by Brünnhilde’s reaction to Wotan’s reprimand and rejection.
Iain Paterson, one of today’s leading Wotans, is an exceptional interpreter of the role. Few can convey Wotan’s torment as he does, whether in his row with Fricka or in his repudiation of Brünnhilde. However, as in Das Rheingold, his voice is diminished and shows signs of fatigue. Sadly, he disappointed in a few pivotal phrases, such Act II’s opening phrase “Nun zäume dein Ross, reisige Maid”, Act III’s “ Wo ist Brünnhild’, wo ist die Verbrecherin?” and “ Leb’ wohl, du kühnes, herrliches Kind!” This weakness was minor, given the overall brilliance of his voice and his superlative acting.
The farewell was extremely powerful: Brünnhilde is not laying on a rock to be enchantingly put to sleep until awakened by a worthy hero. Instead, she continues to stand, holding Wotan until late in this majestic scene. Both Paterson’s and Kampe’s facial expressions were devastating. This was an extremely powerful start to the farewell scene, possibly the finest I’ve seen.
Alas, it went downhill from there. Wotan laid Brünnhilde among the stationary horses (those that waited patiently the entire act). He then fetched a sheet that he had mysteriously produced when pursuing the Valkyrie at the beginning of the act, and used it to cover his warrior. Given the surrounding horses and the time they waited, one can imagine that manure is now Brünnhilde’s resting place. As for the ring of fire, it was a flop beyond imagination. It first engulfed the horses and then the whole stage. The farewell becomes a picnic with horse barbecue. Had it not been for the intense emotion generated by the scene and the solemnity of the music, one might have burst into laughter.
A musically sublime finale thanks to Philippe Jordan and possibly the best orchestra in the world was marred by a staging that could only be described as unimaginative. Hopefully rumours of a new Ring under Jordan’s tenure are true; a coherent, appealing production would merit such a formidable orchestra and superlative voices.
Ossama el Naggar
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