The Ring of the Nibelung, Richard Wagner's most monumental operatic achievement – and a landmark in the history of musical theatre – comprises four works that together tell a single story inspired by Norse mythology. Eleven years since its last Ring (directed by Guy Cassiers), the Teatro alla Scala is staging a new production by Sir David McVicar, beginning with the prologue, Das Rheingold, to close the 2023-24 season.
McVicar approaches this ambitious work with a straightforward approach: he tells the story. The Ring's plot, penned by Wagner himself, is intricate, full of magic, symbolism and inconsistencies, written in an archaic style that Wagner, drawing on his deep literary and poetic knowledge, intended as a reflection of an ancient Germanic language. The set design, crafted by McVicar and Hannah Postlethwaite, features large, striking objects that serve as focal points, drawing the audience's attention. Three enormous hands symbolise the Rhine, its shores and rocks, tenderly supporting the Rhinemaidens; two steep staircases ascending to an unseen Valhalla reflect Wotan’s ambition; and a massive golden skull embodies Alberich's greed in Nibelheim. The atmosphere is dark, with selective video projections – waves of the Rhine and clouds encircling Valhalla – enhancing the setting. The Rhinegold itself is represented by a dancer wearing a golden mask, which Alberich rips away when he seizes the treasure. The visual presentation is breathtakingly beautiful, aided by Emma Kingsbury’s costumes that lend a unique, recognisable style.
This is an uncontroversial production: it avoids drawing parallels to current events, refrains from preaching and holds no agenda. It allows Wagner's story to unfold as he intended (minus the winged helmets) and it is enjoyable.
Simone Young conducted the La Scala orchestra in a performance that perfectly aligned with McVicar's vision: she let the story unfold. The pacing was relentless, with Wagner’s music flowing in an unstoppable, overwhelming wave, yet rendered with a lightness and clarity that allowed each section of the orchestra to shine. The sound might have been less "dense" than some Wagner enthusiasts expected, but the result was an ideal balance between orchestra and stage. Rather than overpowering the singers, the orchestra supported them, driving toward a unified, shared purpose. Here, the orchestra wasn’t the star, but that was by no means a drawback.
Michael Volle portrayed Wotan, king of the gods, with a smooth bass-baritone, beautiful high notes, intelligent phrasing, and a deep understanding of Wagner’s music. His interpretation captured Wotan’s pettiness and short temper, making the character feel more human than usual. Ólafur Sigurdarson took on the role of Alberich, the Nibelung of the cycle’s title, dressed in a fat-suit and with curly horns. The role is demanding – Alberich is on stage for much of the opera with challenging, varied lines – yet Sigurdarson was flawless. His delivery felt natural, as if he were speaking rather than singing. His baritone skilfully handled all the complex emotions Wagner wrote for this pitiful dwarf: whining and frustrated while attempting to seduce the Rhinemaidens, menacing in his triumph, desperate and raging in his defeat. His performance, along with Young’s, was one of the most celebrated of the evening.
Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke brought his expertise to the role of Mime, Alberich’s brother and victim, leaning into the character’s laments and cries with a powerful tenor, resulting in an engaging performance. Norbert Ernst portrayed Loge, the god of fire; although his high tenor lacked some projection, he made a strong impression with Young’s guidance. His striking appearance – with a feminine black frock, vivid red hair and two dancers mirroring his arm movements – added an extra layer of intrigue to the role.
Okka von der Damerau was Fricka, Wotan’s wife, performing with a mezzo that displayed smooth legato and emotional depth. Olga Bezsmertna portrayed Freia, the goddess of youth whom Wotan has promised as payment to the giants who built his castle. Her bright soprano was a ray of light and her pleas, filled with terror, were emotional and moving.
The giants were portrayed by singers on stilts, equipped with oversized hands and heads for a striking visual effect. Jongmin Park stood out as Fasolt, his bass rich and warm, perhaps too refined for the character, yet lending him a touch of humanity and even sympathy. Christa Mayer portrayed Erda, the goddess symbolising Mother Earth, with a deep, authoritative mezzo.
Two additional gods rounded out this Nordic pantheon: Froh and Donner, both in frocks. Siyabonga Maqungo brought his beautiful, high tenor to Froh – his “Wie liebliche Luft” was a gem – while André Schuen sang Donner; though his baritone was slightly light for the role, Young’s support and his hammer game helped him shine.
The three Rhinemaidens – Andrea Carroll, Svetlina Stoyanova and Virginie Verrez – delivered an impeccable performance, their crystalline voices weaving together beautifully to extol the glory of the Rhinegold.
