More than one year after Das Rheingold, the new Ring at La Scala has reached Götterdämmerung, which stands not merely as the final instalment of Richard Wagner's tetralogy, but as its moment of ultimate reckoning, where myth, music, and moral collapse converge.
Conductor Alexander Soddy approached Götterdämmerung – monumental in orchestral scope yet often devastatingly intimate – with a pragmatic understanding, giving voice to its epic poetry while avoiding empty monumentality, and to its lyrical affect without ever becoming coy. His dynamic palette was immense, shaping an interpretation rich in nuance and sustained by relentless dramatic tension. The La Scala orchestra followed him in a memorable performance, perhaps slightly subdued in the opening part, but igniting with passion and a rich, overwhelming sound from the double wedding ceremony onward. Soddy’s Götterdämmerung was both culmination and catastrophe—a final blaze in which the Ring’s long-simmering tensions are consumed, leaving behind questions that resonate well beyond the last bars of the Immolation Scene.
Sir David McVicar’s production continues in the same style as the first three operas: he let the music tell the story. Hannah Postlethwaite’s set designs create a fantastical, gloomy aura, with towering, colossal structures and a dark-blue palette; Emma Kingsbury's costumes of the magical and godly beings embrace a steampunk aesthetic that proves strangely fitting for the saga. The world of the Gibichungs is depicted as a primitive culture, its warriors wearing helmets with animal horns, yet also rich and prosperous, as demonstrated by the lavish, garish gold costumes.
Camilla Nylund delivered a brilliant performance as the tour de force that is Brünnhilde’s role in this opera. She paced herself carefully, perhaps holding back at the beginning, the love duet with Klaus Florian Vogt’s Siegfried more lyrical and tender than overwhelmingly passionate, her high notes ringing with silver. But when Brünnhilde arrived at the Gibichungs’ hall like a spoil of war – violated, betrayed – Nylund’s voice became a weapon, her high notes filled with steel, her thirst for vengeance pulling the Valkyrie out of the tender woman in love. The determination and coldness her voice conveyed while planning Siegfried’s death were masterfully projected. The deepening and strengthening of her timbre and emission in the finale truly traced the arc of her character: after losing the knowledge inherited from her godlike status, she acquires a new kind of wisdom; human wisdom, born of tremendous loss. One could hear in Nylund’s voice the inevitability of the end of that world, as power returns to Nature and the Ring goes back to the Rhine.
Vogt, with his luminous, pale-hued tenor, convincingly brought to life an instinctive, not particularly bright young man, whose honesty stems from an almost naïve inability to imagine malice or deception. His interpretation, marked by uncompromising brashness and a youthful, beautiful timbre, offered insight into one of the most obscure points of the plot: why Siegfried places his trust in the Gibichungs, whom he has never met and about whom he knows nothing.
In contrast to Brünnhilde, Siegfried never truly understands what is happening. He has no idea that the world is unravelling, nor of the crucial role he plays in these events. Vogt’s voice took on a beautifully lyrical tone in the moment of his final recollection of his love for Brünnhilde, a genuinely heart-wrenching passage. Siegfried falls alone on the empty stage, unaware of the cosmic significance of his death. The orchestra told us everything, in a spectacular and imposing rendition of the Funeral March.
In the plot, before Brünnhilde’s abduction, her sister Waltraute – still a Valkyrie in Wotan’s palace – comes to warn her of the impending end of the world for gods and humans alike. The legendary Nina Stemme, the Brünnhilde of her generation, sang this role with a still splendid, full-bodied soprano; her authority and charisma (and magnificently placed high notes) left a deep impression despite the brevity of the part. The audience greeted her at the curtain call with a warm and affectionate ovation.
Gunther was sung by Russell Braun, his tenor bright and pleasant, if perhaps lacking some projection, well suited to the portrayal of the slimy, cowardly head of the Gibichungs. His murderous half-brother Hagen, son of the Nibelung Alberich, was Günther Groissböck, who displayed formidable stage presence and a booming bass, though not always refined, and only occasionally a touch flat in the attack of his upper notes. Gutrune, Gunther’s sister, was the lovely Olga Bezsmertna, whose soprano rang freely and securely, supported by impeccable technique. She also sang the Third Norn, and in both roles her beautiful timbre animated the ensembles.
The La Scala chorus delivered its customary masterclass in precision and dramatic engagement in their interventions as the Gibichung warriors. The evening – aside from the customary boos from the loggione directed at the production – was a tremendous success.
