Following Das Rheingold last autumn, La Scala's new Ring cycle reached its highly anticipated second instalment, Die Walküre. Between these two works, Wotan has fathered twins, Siegmund and Sieglinde, with a mortal woman. Separated as children, the siblings reunite as adults in the first act – only to experience an unexpected and forbidden passion. Rather than deterring them, the revelation of their shared bloodline intensifies their ardour, culminating in one of the most powerful and breathtaking love duets in the history of opera.
Director Sir David McVicar, who set the tone for this Ring cycle with a traditional, non-controversial Rheingold, envisions Walküre even more faithfully to Wagner's libretto. This is not to say the production is unsuccessful: his staging is visually striking, the character direction precise and deeply felt, the storytelling engaging, unfolding like a fairy tale with rich fantasy overtones. The three acts are enveloped in darkness, enhanced by David Finn’s intelligent lighting.
Simone Young conducted La Scala's orchestra in a performance brimming with emotion and tension. She maintained a brisk pace, allowing lengthy passages to flow naturally while highlighting their recitativo quality. Her interpretation focused more on the characters’ anguish and human suffering rather than Teutonic grandeur – and occasional pompousness – of the mythological narrative. The orchestral sound was supple and rich, the brass section seizing every opportunity to shine in an opera that offers them some of their finest moments.
The cast was stellar. Camilla Nylund, one of today’s most celebrated Brünnhildes, embodied the Valkyrie with effortless vocal power. Her strong, dramatic soprano filled the vast theatre with ease, high notes ringing with confidence, and the golden brilliance of her voice shining throughout. She skillfully conveyed Brünnhilde’s youthful exuberance – the thrill of “falling in love with love” so characteristic of a teenager. Her relationship with her father Wotan (Michael Volle) was explored with remarkable nuance by both singers, their deep, complex bond unfolding on stage with striking authenticity and emotional depth.
Volle is a seasoned Wotan, and he seemed in better voice here than in Rheingold. His high notes were beautifully rounded, his delivery immaculate, an absolute pleasure to hear. His interpretation felt effortless, clearly the result of a deep understanding of the role. His Act 2 monologue was introspective and compelling, while his fury against Brünnhilde was both powerful and terrifying.
The final scene, in which Wotan punishes his beloved daughter by casting her into a magic sleep and stripping her of her divine powers, was heart-wrenching. Young guided the orchestra with warmth and tenderness, enveloping the singers in a sound that was almost like a lullaby. By this point, both Volle and Nylund showed some understandable vocal fatigue, but they still delivered a profoundly moving and emotionally charged farewell.
Siegmund was portrayed by Klaus Florian Vogt, whose brilliant tenor, with its luminous high notes, stood in stark contrast to the darker, heavier timbre typically associated with Wagnerian tenors. Yet his voice cut through the orchestra and filled the theatre like a laser beam, his diction impeccable, and his physique du rôle still well-suited. His portrayal of the young man experiencing love for the first time was both believable and deeply moving, with “Winterstürme” sung almost like a child astonished by his own emotions, beautifully introduced by Young’s delicate orchestral phrasing.
Sieglinde, his sister and bride, was Elza van den Heever, making her role debut. Initially cautious, perhaps due to first-night nerves, she quickly made a strong impression with her perfectly projected, velvety soprano. Her high notes were both powerful and assured, and by the third act, she unleashed the full force of her voice in a breathtaking performance, capturing the desperation of a mother fighting to save her unborn child. Bass Günther Groissböck sang Hunding, Sieglinde's vengeful husband, and Okka von der Damerau delivered a compelling and authoritative Fricka, portraying a woman humiliated by her husband's infidelities and determined to reclaim her dignity by forcing Wotan to sacrifice his beloved son, Siegmund. Her mezzo-soprano was solid across the registers, her technique flawless, her projection strong.
Brünnhilde’s eight sisters, the fierce goddesses who roam the skies on their flying horses, take centre stage in one of the most iconic moments in all of opera: The Ride of the Valkyries, which opens Act 3. McVicar’s staging depicts their horses as mimes on small elastic stilts, outfitted with harnesses and metallic skeletal horse heads – a good solution to a difficult problem, namely representing the Valkyries’ horses on stage. The horses move and leape with both grace and strength, creating a striking visual, if perhaps at times a bit confused. The eight Valkyries executed their intricate ensemble flawlessly, their voices ringing out with clarity and power, in real bad-ass punk costumes.
