Wagner Without Fear

by William Berger

  To return to the dramatic situation, Siegfried is remarkably likable in this scene. His famous declaration “That is not a man!” (“Das ist kein Mann!”) has been cracking up audiences for over a century. There may be some people who feel uncomfortable with unabashed laughter in this opera. When the Metropolitan Opera performed its first Siegfrieds after installing its famous electronic translation devices, the screens were left tastefully blank for this line. Granted, you don’t need to be a German language scholar to appreciate the moment.

  Siegfried learns the meaning of fear from Brünnhilde’s beauty, and instinctively cries out for his mother. When Brünnhilde explains she has loved him since before he was born, he draws a remarkably intelligent conclusion, and asks if she is his mother. Of course, Wagner doesn’t say it directly—he rarely says anything directly. The actual line is, “Then my mother didn’t die? The beloved one was only asleep?” but the meaning is clear enough. It is shocking how many translations, in the opera house and elsewhere, cop out on this sublime moment of pre-Freudian insight. Newman, uncharacteristically, ignores it altogether.

  It is harder to make sense of Brünnhilde’s invocation of laughter, and then of death, and finally of laughing death. Laughter begins as an emblem of true living, but ends up rather more associated with death. Does Brünnhilde know that her union with Siegfried means the end is coming? And does she welcome that as part of a move toward Nirvana, or annihilation of the self according to the Buddhist ideal? (If so, what’s all the laughing about?) Or is it Wagner’s murky way of invoking the old operatic cliché “Let’s live and die together”? It is often hard to fathom just how much Brünnhilde does know, and what she says usually only complicates matters. One is welcome to ponder these mysteries at length and write academic essays on them, but most prefer to enjoy this scene for its sheer romantic excitement, and attribute Brünnhilde’s impenetrable words to her justifiable giddiness in the moment.

  BASICS: WHEN TO EAT, DRINK, AND VISIT THE RESTROOM

  Like Die Walküre, performances of Siegfried usually begin at 6:00 or 6:30 p.m. This is deceptive. Siegfried is considerably shorter than its predecessor, and the extra time is usually given to long intermissions for the singers to rest, pray, or generally collect themselves. The second intermission is usually a bit longer. The set for Act III is complicated, and the tenor must be given ample time to reattach any sound-producing organs he may have severed in the second act. Each of the acts is roughly the same length, with the last being a bit longer, so standard common sense will suffice here.

  ROUGH SPOTS AND HOW TO GET THROUGH THEM

  In Act I it’s just Siegfried, Mime, and Wotan, so hope the artists are actors as well as singers. The score should carry you through here in any case. Like the first act of Die Walküre, this first act has the feel of a single mighty crescendo, even though there are only three people in it. It begins conversationally (Siegfried/Mime), becomes ritualistically confrontational (Mime/the Wanderer), and concludes boisterously (Siegfried at the forge/Mime).

  The best way to approach Act II is not to assume that slaying the dragon marks the climax of the action. If you do, you’re guaranteed to find the rest of the act long. Think of the death of Fafner as midpoint apex, actionwise, and know ahead of time that there’s a lot left to happen. There is usually an embarrassing miniature exodus out of the theater by the infirm and the faint of heart at the conclusion of Act II. While no amount of reasoning will work on such people, this is good to know if you have decided to economize and buy standing-room tickets. Even the ushers of New York—more Nibelungs than Rhinemaidens—will usually look the other way at this point when standees snarf up the empty seats for the remainder of the performance.

  Wagner is often easiest to appreciate in his third acts (Die Meistersinger being a possible exception), and this is true in Siegfried. Those who equate opera with prima donnas are thrilled to hear a real live diva at last, while the rest of us can enjoy all the fabulous music.

  GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

  PREMIERE: BAYREUTH, 1876.

  THE NAME

  What to call it and what it means This is one of those German words formed by compounding, which can make their words so incredibly long. Götter means “of the gods,” and Dämmerung means “sunset,” “twilight,” or “dusk.” It’s best to call it by its German name, unless you want to be mistaken for George Bernard Shaw, who called it everything from “Night Falls on the Gods” to “Gods’ Gloaming.”

  How to pronounce it Even though we are again plagued with those pesky little umlauts, they are less of a problem this time around than they were in Walküre. The best compromise is to treat them both as if they were the English vowel e. Thus, “Get-tehr-DEM-ehr-oonk,” or anything near it.

  WHAT IS GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG?

  Götterdämmerung is the massive, awesome conclusion to the Ring, the first of the series to be conceived and the last composed. It is the longest of the Ring operas, and the most demanding in terms of production. Partly because of its earlier conception, it has many features from the standard operatic war chest that we haven’t yet seen in the Ring, including a duet, a trio, a battle call, a chorus or two, and a really big “suicide aria” for the diva at the end. Shaw, for one, was frankly disappointed with Götterdämmerung, seeing it as mere grand opera (!) compared to the allegorical music drama of the Ring’s first three parts.

  Shaw was correct from his own point of view, but it’s sad that his own theories of what Wagner was about interfered with his full appreciation of Götterdämmerung’s glories. And beyond all the formal theorizing, which was so much more important a hundred years ago than it is today, Götterdämmerung is definitely a part of the Ring. We have Siegfried, Brünnhilde, Alberich, and even the Rhinemaidens and a Valkyrie, as well as a host of new characters. All the musical themes we have been following for three nights will be found here, developed and even “resolved” in dramatic terms. This opera contains much of Wagner’s most magnificent music, presented through a mastery of the orchestra that may have been the greatest he ever achieved. Only a pedant today could take exception to the choruses and the trio. Indeed, considering the dramatic impact of this opera’s second act, Wagner may have discovered, at this late date in his career, that there was more “truth” in such operatic conventions than he and his fellow artistic reformers had ever imagined.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  SIEGFRIED (tenor) Our young hero has grown up quite a bit since we last left him on Brünnhilde’s rock. Apparently his night, or year, however long he was with her, taught him some self-confidence and greatly improved his language skills. This role is insanely difficult, demanding range, volume, and stamina.

  BRÜNNHILDE (soprano) She’s back and she’s angry! If you thought you had heard everything a soprano could do on the previous two nights, well, you ain’t heard nothing yet. One of the great diva roles, the Götterdämmerung Brünnhilde gets to sing of love, have fights, swear vengeance, leap on a horse, and burn down the universe.

  ALBERICH (bass) The Obsessed One returns, in a dream sequence with his son Hagen. We are not sure if he is dead or alive at this point in Ring history, and it doesn’t really matter. He has become nothing more than a vindictive idea.

  WALTRAUTE (mezzo-soprano) One of the Valkyries, making a rare “solo” appearance. This is a definitive role for aging mezzos who aren’t quite ready to turn it in yet.

  GUNTHER (baritone) The son of a man named Gibich and a woman named Grimhilde. He is a sort of chieftain of a Rhineland tribe called the Gibichungs. In the whole Wagnerian canon of loser baritones, Gunther is probably the sorriest one of all.

  GUTRUNE (soprano) Gunther’s sister. She has sweet music accompanying her entrances and exits, but Gutrune is either incredibly stupid or knows how to play helpless. She is more of a plot device than a person.

  HAGEN (bass) One of the true bad guys of the Ring, whose father, Alberich, is the other contender for the title. His mother, the same Grimhilde who bore Gunther and Gutrune, once
slept with Alberich for gold, and Hagen was the result of this rather grotesque encounter. Mrs. Gibich’s (Grimhilde’s) extracurricular activities do not seem to have harmed the family’s zealously guarded reputation. Hagen, whose father was a dwarf, is inevitably played by an enormous bass. The role requires volume and stamina, particularly in the Act II “Call to the Vassals,” but it also requires much subtlety and intellect in his “dream” sequences.

  THE THREE RHINEMAIDENS Our watery friends from Das Rheingold are back, a bit more melancholy than they were, but still more agreeable than anyone else in this grim tale. They have even developed a certain philosophical patience at this point, a wisdom from which the others in this opera could benefit.

  WOGLINDE (soprano), WELLGUNDE (soprano), FLOSSHILDE (mezzo-soprano).

  THE NORNS These are the Nordic equivalent of the Fates in Greek mythology, who spin the rope of destiny. In their strangeness, they are also like other sets of three sisters in literature, not least the witches in Macbeth. These Norns are three of the drabbest women you’ll ever meet on a stage.

  THE OPERA

  Prologue

  Setting: Brünnhilde’s rock.

  The three Norns arise slowly to spin the rope of destiny. The first one sings of how she once wove the rope around the World-Ash Tree, next to a spring that whispered wisdom as she worked. One day, Wotan came to the spring, taking a drink and leaving one of his eyes as payment. The god then cut a branch of the tree to make his great Spear, and the tree withered from the wound as the spring dried up. Now she must use the simple fir tree for her work. She asks her sister if she knows what happened. The second Norn sings of Wotan’s Spear, covered with the marks of contracts with which he ruled the world, until a bold hero shattered it. Then Wotan commanded his heroes to hew the dead trunk of the World-Ash Tree and pile the logs around the base of Valhalla. She asks the third sister if she knows what will happen.

  The third Norn sings that Wotan sits in his hall surrounded by gods and heroes, awaiting the flame that will catch the logs around them and burn them, ending their reign. They must spin more to know more. The first Norn asks if she sees fire or daybreak. Her sight has grown dim, and Loge does not flare as he once did. Do the sisters know what happened to him? The second explains that Wotan tamed him, and Loge tried to gain his freedom by gnawing at the Spear, but it overpowered him and held him to Brünnhilde’s rock. What will happen to him? The third Norn says Wotan will one day plunge the shattered Spear shaft into the fire and ignite the logs around Valhalla with it. What then will be? The first Norn says she is confused and her rope is tangled. She remembers that Alberich once stole the Ring; what happened to him? The second can see the Ring rise—its curse tangles her threads. The third says the rope must be stretched, and then, to their shock, it snaps. In utter resignation, they descend to their mother Erda.

  Comment: Trying to make literal sense out of the Norns is as hopeless as deciphering Led Zeppelin lyrics. Their words are really sound, mystery, and ritual. Their formulaic questions, such as “Do you know what happened?” and “Do you know what will be?,” are never clearly answered, but are strangely echoed by Brünnhilde at the end of the opera.

  This scene probably gets dissed more than any other in the Ring. The complaints usually echo those aimed at Wotan’s monologues—it is dreary, and we know all this already. Those who have a dangerously limited knowledge of the Ring’s creation will tell you that the Norns’ original function was to explain what happened before the beginning of Siegfrieds Tod, the original, solo form of Götterdämmerung. Later, they will tell you, Wagner wrote the three prequels to Götterdämmerung and this became superfluous, but his arrogance prevented him from cutting it.

  Not quite. The Norns are telling the story as they see it, and there are some interesting deviations from what we have seen. There is that very confusing story of the World-Ash Tree. Everyone points out that Wotan couldn’t have lost his eye there, since he had already lost it to pay for his marriage with Fricka. Did Wagner forget this detail? Improbable. The Norns could have faulty memory (they admit as much), marrying Fricka may have been involved in drinking from the spring and cutting the tree, or perhaps Wotan “put one over” on everybody each time he recounted how he supposedly lost an eye.

  The whole Loge saga seems bizarre, although it helps explain why Wotan was pounding his Spear on the rock at the end of Die Walküre. Also, the piling of the logs around Valhalla is a fascinating touch that usually eludes producers and audiences alike. The conflagration at the end of this opera will be something in which Wotan has actively participated, beyond merely accepting it.

  While there are contradictions in the words, there are nothing but answers in the music. The Norns’ scene runs through many of the important leitmotivs of the Ring, an elegant example of television’s “Last week on Dynasty. …” In typical Wagnerian fashion, the themes are recognizable, yet changed, as if warped through yet another lens of memory.

  After an orchestral interlude, Siegfried and Brünnhilde emerge from the cave.

  Comment: A lovely cello line erupts into themes associated with Siegfried, which are then stated in broad, heroic terms in the brass. The message is blunt: Siegfried has become a man!

  Brünnhilde hails Siegfried, proving her love by sending him forth to adventures and glory. She has passed her magic onto him—all that remains to her now is desire. He is grateful for all she has given him, and now he will think only of her, but she chides him to think of himself and his deeds and their vows to each other. He consigns her to the custody of the flame-surrounded rock, and, as a sign of his pledge, takes the Ring from his finger and places it on hers. She delights in the gift, and, in return, gives him her horse Grane. The horse no longer flies, since it lost its power when she lost hers, but the steed will serve Siegfried valiantly. They sing each other’s praises in rapture as he takes leave.

  Comment: The first question one asks here is, How long have Siegfried and Brünnhilde been together on the rock? They certainly seemed surprisingly ready to part company. Later, in the first act, Waltraute will say that Wotan “recently” (“Jüngst”) returned to Valhalla with his Spear shattered, but what does “recently” mean in Valhalla time? Wagner does not really answer this question. What matters here is not how or how long, but that these two who were allegorical concepts have now become a man and a woman as Wagner understood those terms.

  An orchestral interlude depicts Siegfried’s journey up the Rhine River.

  Comment: This symphonic interlude, famous from concert performances, is a masterpiece of Wagner’s ability to tell a story by means of the orchestra alone. First we hear Siegfried, represented by horn calls, descending the mountain back through the fire. Eventually, we know he is journeying on the Rhine as we hear music of the river and its Maidens. Lastly, we hear dark themes of the Ring and the world of the Nibelungs, telling us where Siegfried is headed. The hero is borne along by people and events he does not understand. Incidentally, people always say “Siegfried’s journey down the Rhine,” but Hagen’s comments later make it clear that he is headed up the Rhine. Remember, you read it here first.

  Act I, Scene 1

  Setting: The Hall of the Gibichungs, near the banks of the Rhine.

  Gunther, seated on a throne as king of the Gibichungs, with his sister Gutrune beside him, asks his half-brother Hagen for news of his own reputation along the Rhine. Hagen gruffly replies that he envies Gunther’s legitimate title, which their mother Grimhilde commanded him to respect. Gunther is shocked—he, for his part, envies Hagen’s wisdom, and bids him say what he should do to improve his fame. Hagen advises Gunther and Gutrune to find spouses. But who would be the bride to best profit Gunther’s position? Brünnhilde, surrounded by fire on a rock, is the best woman Hagen knows, but Gunther could never pass through the fire and win her. Only one man could—Siegfried, who slew the dragon at Neidhöhle and won the Nibelung’s hoard. Whoever truly knew how to use that hoard could become master of the world. Gunther is bitte
r at the news. Why would Hagen tell him of something so unattainable? Hagen suggests Siegfried could be persuaded to bring Brünnhilde to Gunther if Gutrune had previously won the hero’s heart.

  The shy, unassuming Gutrune is aghast at this. What could she possibly do to win the world’s greatest hero? Hagen reminds her of the potion they have stored in a chest. One drink of it and Siegfried would forget any woman he had ever seen and love only Gutrune. Gunther praises his mother who gave him such a brother, and Gutrune wishes she could set eyes on Siegfried. Just then, a horn is heard from the river, and Hagen calls the hero to shore.

  Comment: The Gibichungs’ family conference that begins the actual drama of this opera (the scenes at the rock were a prologue) establishes their characters effectively. Gunther is worthless, Gutrune is malleable, and Hagen is scheming. Still, the scene is full of confusing information. No wonder people can’t tell the Ring from the hoard, since Hagen makes no mention of the former and says that controlling the hoard is what gives power. (Of course, he doesn’t want to tell Gunther the whole truth.) The fact that the Nibelungs are now Siegfried’s slaves may be technically true, since he has the Ring, but this has no bearing on the drama. Presumably, Siegfried doesn’t even know it himself. Newman and others thought this was another holdover from Siegfrieds Tod that Wagner never updated.