The Dallas Symphony Orchestra (DSO), under the music directorship of Fabio Luisi, performed Der Ring des Nibelungen between October 13 and 20, 2024. The closer one is able to hear these operas performed together, the greater the cumulative impression – a tremendous effect that can only be experienced, not described. This was performed in concert version, which, in this Regietheater era, might prove to be a good option in the future.
The New York Times, without irony, asked the question: “How much of Wagner’s impact remains if you subtract scenery and costumes, and most of the action — with neither water nor fire, sword nor spear, celestial palace nor subterranean smithy?” Where has this critic been? When has anyone recently seen the fire, water, or a “celestial palace” in current Wagner productions? Wagner’s impact has been blunted for decades by sophomoric productions that feature conductors and singers at the top of their game, tethered to amateurish stage directors/designers who take pleasure in fighting Wagner’s clear—and important—stage directions. The nadir for me was a Munich production with Siegfried dressed like Elvis, urinating on stage in a toilet bowl, that—you guessed it—was used to cool off the freshly forged hot steel of Nothung. In Dallas, the surtitles included helpful stage directions that aided the mind’s eye, deftly guided by Wagner’s evocative music: the narrative sonic signifiers (leitmotifs), the associative harmonies, and the vivid orchestration. Without the distraction of jejune, irrelevant stagings, and extraneous characters, the focus in Dallas was on the music and dialogue.
The DSO is one of America’s great orchestras with a legacy that includes such music directors as Dorati, Kletzki, Solti, Max Rudolf, and Jaap van Zweden. The orchestra was remarkable in execution, sound, energy, and pure enthusiasm; for many of these eager musicians it was their first Ring Cycle. It was also a feast for the eyes to see an augmented orchestra that featured—in full stage view—six harps, anvils, Wagner tubas, bass trumpet, and steer horns borrowed from the Met.
There are several reasons why people travel all over to see and hear the Ring Cycle. First of all, it is the grandest, maybe greatest, musical project ever conceived by a composer. Second, the creative span reaches from the time of the 1848 revolutions to 1874, three years past the Franco-Prussian War and founding of a German Empire in 1871. Wagner took part in that revolution, going into Swiss exile, and the Ring is unthinkable without this important context; thus it is part politics, philosophy (Feuerbach to Schopenhauer), mythology, and Germanic literature. The earliest sketches were for a music drama called “Siegfried’s Death” (later called Götterdämmerung): the product of a dissatisfied revolutionary opera composer living in Dresden. The final musical realization ended with a work written for a theater that could only have been a dream in Dresden.
Wagner’s original conception was that Siegfried’s fundamental purpose was to redeem the gods. If the early prose draft had been composed at that time, we would have heard an opera where Siegfried was a free, active hero—caught up in the deceits of the world. Corruption and materialism would be overcome by love. In a Feuerbachian finale, the Nibelungen would become free, humanity and the gods would be purified by fire, and both Siegfried and Brünnhilde would rise to a Valhalla not destroyed by fire. Wotan would reign over the free and the pure, with Siegfried as the unquestionable redeemer. But that is not the final ending of Götterdämmerung at all; after Wagner’s engagement with Schopenhauer, it is a work about deceit and treachery, and Siegfried is not cleansed of his perfidy until his death, accompanied by the heroic funeral music. We think, sadly, of what could have been but did not happen, making the cathartic immolation scene all the more powerful. And it is not a coincidence that Wagner first systematically developed his method of composing leitmotifs while composing the Ring.
Luisi is a brilliant Wagner conductor, previously proven by his Met Ring: fleet tempi and sensitivity to balance (important here because the orchestra is behind the singers and not in the pit) with vigor and rhythmic clarity. In Rheingold, Tómas Tómasson’s superb and resonant Alberich was sung with energetic wickedness, and Mark Delavan sang with authority as Wotan. Michael Laurenz’s Mime was superb, without too much caricature, and Stefan Margita sang a fine but less convincing Loge. The excellent Rhine Daughters wore aquatic blues and greens; a luscious Erda appeared below the apron of the stage bathed in green light. The rest of the singers were likewise strong with special mention going to Laura Wild’s Freia and Liang Li’s resonant Fasolt.
Luisi’s fleet approach to tempi was perfect for the tempestuous opening of Die Walküre. Sara Jakubiak as Sieglinde was wonderful, combining warmth and urgency with beautiful tone. Veteran Christopher Ventris had a steady, sonorous light Heldentenor voice with great diction, but keeping the two far apart onstage until the critical moments diminished the requisite sexual tension between brother and sister. Stephen Milling’s resonant, almost cavernous, Hunding was striking. Deniz Uzun was a convincing Fricka with her rich penetrating tones. Luisi’s fleetness, however, did not serve him well at the beginning of the Act II Todesverkündigung and Wotan’s Farewell, where it seemed to give Delavan a little trouble.
In Siegfried, one who stood out was Daniel Johansson, a Swedish Heldentenor who not only looked the part but acted it, singing fearlessly with a beautiful, lyric voice, as fresh at the end as at the beginning. Lise Lindstrom, an American dramatic soprano who made her debut 21 years ago singing Turandot, sang Brünnhilde brightly with tight vibrato and ample volume. In Götterdämmerung, she paced herself for the impressive “Immolation.” The roles of Mime and Alberich were well served by Laurenz and Tómasson, respectively. The “animal roles” (dragon and bird) were likewise excellent, but a special salutation goes to musician Daniel Hawkins for his heroic handling of Siegfried’s horn calls.
The DSO reached a glorious conclusion with Götterdämmerung, playing with a magnificence that should be the envy of any American orchestra. Strength, beauty, and virtuosity combined to create a lasting experience in my sonic memory. The dark antipode to the brilliant sounds of Brünnhilde and Siegfried was the sinister Hagen, sung by Milling, who was impressive “on watch” in Act II, then calling forth the vassals. The chorus sang with tremendous power and precision, well prepared by the recently appointed Anthony Blake Clark. The Rhine maidens were again excellent as were the Norns as they foretold the end of the world. Kathryn Henry was a fine Gutrune, quite moving at the end, as she was sucked into the undertow of events beyond her control. Gunther, played by Romas Trekel, was equally pathetic as he realized he was but a pawn in the diabolical chess game. The result was a massive musical experience that reminded me of what Wagner once wrote to his father-in-law, Franz Liszt: “The music shall sound in such a fashion that people shall hear what they cannot see.”
© Wagner Notes, January 2025, a publication of the Wagner Society of New York. All rights reserved.