Does Das Rheingold need an update? With income inequality becoming a global concern, it’s tempting to recast the opening of the mythic Ring cycle as contemporary class warfare, which director Sláva Daubnerová does in a new production at the Prague National Theatre. But the opera already has a baked-in class structure that includes plenty of self-dealing and moral rot at the top. And in her treatment, weighty add-ons clutter what is otherwise an evening of striking visuals and captivating music.
There’s no mistaking who’s who onstage. Instead of water nymphs, the Rhinemaidens first appear as sanitation workers spraying the Tree of Life, a central visual motif in the production. Giants Fasolt and Fafner are clad as construction workers, and the Nibelung slaves are a writhing, nearly naked mass neatly portrayed by male dancers. The gods look down from a lofty perch but are a foppish lot, dressed in garish retro outfits and sporting outsized hairdos. There’s no grandeur about them, just down-to-earth decadence sans any celestial trappings.
The only truly godlike figure is Erda, a minor character in the original who is recast in triplicate: as an interpretive dancer, a seer cautioning Wotan to avoid the curse of the ring and an earth mother copulating with a satyr-like figure on the Tree of Life. She does the latter in an opening video, a bit of artful porn that sets an overtly sexual tone for the evening. Dancing Erda wears only a sheer body stocking, the Rhinemaidens reappear wearing black leather and bearing fetuses, Freia is outfitted in exaggerated sexy lingerie and held in bondage – provocative layers of eroticism that feel unnecessarily grafted onto a story of power and greed. Or all part of an ode to fertility, which seems even more out of place.
Other elements work better. Changing the ring of power into a set of golden brass knuckles (aka “knuckle dusters”) captures its lure and brutality. Alberich’s subterranean command center, where he surveils his workers via an array of video monitors, effectively evokes the mechanized heart of modern capitalism. And the full stage set, with gleaming chrome and glass cubes framing the Tree of Life, offers a versatile rotating platform that showcases the set pieces and facilitates smooth transitions.
On opening night, a uniformly strong cast anchored a solid performance. Veteran tenor Štefan Margita stole the show as a grinning, conniving Loge, manipulating the other characters with an ongoing wink and nod to the audience. Adam Plachetka, who has built a successful career largely on lighter Mozart roles, showed that he’s ready for Wagner with a persuasive portrayal of Wotan, in voice if not always in acting chops. Humiliation was never borne better than in Joachim Goltz’s depiction of Alberich, a surprisingly sympathetic figure even – and maybe especially – in nothing but his underwear. House regulars also made significant contributions, in particular František Zahradníček and Zdeněk Plech as Fasolt and Fafner, respectively. Jaroslav Březina pulled off a wheelchair-bound mad scientist version of Mime with panache, and for seductive Rhinemaidens, it would be hard to top Jana Sibera, Michaela Zajmi and Kateřina Jalovcová.
Conducted by Robert Jindra, the National Theatre Orchestra turned in an illuminating performance in the pit. There was nothing heavy or ponderous about their Wagner. Instead, they favored expression, hitting the dramatic highlights with fervor but mostly keeping the pace brisk and the accompaniment vibrant and colorful. Burnished work by the brass provided the nobility missing onstage, and familiar musical motifs like the giants’ theme rang with authority.
Capping the contemporary allegory, Wotan and company end up just where one would expect fat cats to be, lounging in bathrobes at a resort. But Daubnerová adds a final twist with a prop, a portable spotlight that Loge used in the opening to focus attention on the singers. In the closing moments it’s Alberich who steps out of the wings with the spotlight, but this time it’s turned on the audience, as if to say: If you want to know how we got here, maybe it’s time to look in the mirror.
