In his platform preface Mark Elder spoke of the penetrative stare of Wotan and the timeless flow of the Rhine before this ambitious concert performance of the concluding chapter to Wagner’s Ring cycle. And it was the ingraining of these ideals in the orchestral playing that most impressed about the performance: the Wagnerian churn and bite was confident and accomplished, and there were corners in which Wagner’s moments of extraordinary transition were given unusual space to breath, like the inexorable but unpredictable flow of the Rhine itself.
On Saturday though, for the Prologue and Act I, the Hallé players seemed a little daunted by the work’s scale: a number of brass instruments were prone to over-blowing; some of the more translucent textures were off-balance and there were moments of rickety tuning. But that had all changed by Sunday evening for Acts II & III. The playing was now brooding and knowing, instruments recalling themes from the first three operas as if they were instinctively remembering them – even if nobody got round to tuning the lower timpani.
Still, Saturday’s prologue unfurled magnificently. This is Wagner’s orchestra prizing open a gargantuan can of worms: Erda’s three daughters, the Norns, dredge up events from the Ring’s first three operas and glimpse what might be to come. But when the Third Norn Miranda Keys overshot her big moment, it, too, proved a prophecy: Katarina Dalayman’s Brünnhilde was wonderfully committed, but she was prone to over singing in her middle register as the orchestral ocean swelled behind her, and in The Bridgewater Hall’s cauldron acoustic, some of her big moments boomed brashly.
Dalayman’s fellow countryman Lars Cleveman makes a convincing Siegfried given the just-shy-of-Wagnerian size of his voice. His conviction lay in his smiling naivety; he exuded love-struck excitedness and confidence, though his woodbird of Act III could have done with less brawn and more tweet (the Hallé’s delicate principal clarinet and oboe compensated). But as the weekend progressed, both Cleveman and Dalayman grew into their roles. The latter’s immolation scene was tantalising; she gave it her all, controlled the acceptant rage more carefully and achieved aching pain. Her voice has the weighty darkness of a warrior; by the end, nothing was going to get in her way of her vision of Brünnhilde, not even the occasional vocal strain.
As Götterdämmerung pivots on the plotting of the Gibichungs, so, vocally, did this performance. Peter Coleman-Wright was a suave, mannered Gunther, perfectly understood and delivered with a warm, almost Sinatra-like ease. Nancy Gustafson as his sister Gutrune played up to Siegfried’s boyish quests for love with a stylish and beautiful purity. It was Attlia Jun’s Hagen, though, who created most of the weekend’s electricity. His voice is extraordinary: ultra-powerful, but more chocolate than concrete. That vocal deliciousness didn’t curb his evil, either. When he summoned the Gibichung hoards –blisteringly but impeccably sung by the combined forces of the Royal Opera, London Symphony and Hallé Choruses – you felt the weight of control with which his character steers the plot. Hagen does, after all, get the Ring’s last word.
It seems an irony that given Wagner’s belief in the equality of all the artistic components of opera, a piece like Götterdämmerung stands so well in concert. In it is contained some of the most extraordinary and ear-bending orchestration in all music. Elder knows it: his vision of the work had more dramatic conviction without staging than many a full production (we could have done without pre-concert jibe at ‘ghastly modern productions’, though, and the tweed-clad applause that greeted it). As this two-evening performance progressed – one of the most ambitious promotions in the Hallé’s history – the orchestra increasingly embodied and projected the narrative. Like a scaling of Valkyries’ rock, it wasn’t easy, but it ended in heroic triumph. While some great unsung artists will be remembered in Manchester, this wasn’t really anyone’s Götterdämmerung but the Hallé’s and Elder’s. Perhaps that’s why the loyal audience met it with such astounding ovations.
Andrew Mellor
"blisteringly but impeccably sung by the combined forces of the Royal Opera, London Symphony and Hallé Choruses"
And the BBC Symphony Chorus, just for the record.
Posted by: Dave K | 15.05.2009 at 12:01 PM