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The Fearless Boy, the Dragon and the Sleeping Maiden Milano
Teatro alla Scala
06/06/2025 - & June 9, 13, 16*, 21, 2025, March 6, 13, 2026
Richard Wagner: Siegfried
Klaus Florian Vogt (Siegfried), Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke (Mime), Michael Volle (Der Wanderer), Olafur Sigurdarson (Alberich), Ain Anger (Fafner), Christa Mayer/Anna Kissjudit* (Erda), Camilla Nylund (Brünnhilde), Francesca Aspromonte (Das Waldvöglein)
Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala, Simone Young/Alexander Soddy* (conductor)
David McVicar (Stage Director, Sets), Hannah Postlethwaite (Sets), Emma Kingsbury (Costumes), David Finn (Lighting), Katy Tucker (Videography), Gareth Mole (Choreography), David Greeves (Martial arts, Circus performance)
K. F. Vogt, C. Nylund (© Brescia e Amisano/Teatro alla Scala)
La Scala’s Ring cycle continues triumphantly, thanks to an exceptionally good cast and to David McVicar’s brilliant vision of Wagner’s tetralogy. This production of Siegfried is less exotic than the previous two operas, which generously blended Wagner’s Norse mythology with that of the rest of the world (Asia, Africa, South Pacific). Nonetheless, McVicar’s innovative vision remains constant, and despite the striking imagery, the production is refreshingly uncluttered.
The sets in the opening act in Mime’s dwelling and forge evoke The Pirates of the Caribbean rather than Indiana Jones: a messy cave with a smith’s instruments juxtaposed next to necessities of domestic life, such as cooking utensils and herbs adding flavour to food. Amusingly, the oven where Nothung is forged by Siegfried is the same where Mime cooks a soup. The only flawed, unnecessary concept here is that Mime’s repugnant character, for no understandable reason, is channeled into an exaggeratedly effeminate homosexual. This passé vision was superfluous and added nothing (save for a few sordid smiles) to a well‑woven, compact narrative.
Detractors of the dark quality of McVicar’s previous two instalments of La Scala’s Ring will no doubt continue to complain about the sets in Siegfried. Even more than Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, I fail to see how the three acts Siegfried could have been otherwise.
Visually, Act II was the most striking: a haunted forest worthy of a big‑budget horror film, resembling a painting by Giorgione (1477‑1510) or one more contemporary. Initially, the stylised agglomeration of dead trees and giant statues seemed to evoke a tableau from Greek mythology: Artemis and Actaeon seized by the goddess’s hounds for his arrogance, thinking he was a better hunter than Artemis (Diana in Roman mythology), appropriately insinuating human arrogance and a premonition of Fafner’s fate. However, under different lighting, statues seemed petrified men struck with expressions of horror and agony, alluding to the fate of those who defy the omnipotent dragon.
Act II opened with Alberich snooping around the dragon’s dwelling. Here McVicar conceived a brilliant image: Alberich, who once possessed the ring and its power before being tricked by Wotan, is portrayed as a vagrant pushing a cart with meagre possessions, on top of which lay a cardboard golden crown, a potent image of a pathetic fall from power. The bickering between the two Nibelung brothers, Mime and Alberich, was amusing and well‑directed.
In Act III, Erda resembled a huge, creeping worm lying underneath a globe. She slithered with difficulty, indicating her great burden of carrying the world.
The concluding scene repeated the striking close of Die Walküre’s finale: the huge head of Buddha, from a fallen statue, at centre stage. Brünnhilde’s resting place is an alcove, created by pulling on opposite ends of the head. The ring of fire was represented by a flaming ring in the background. In its centre is a round object, almost certainly an embryo, becoming fertilized as Siegfried liberates and awakens Brünnhilde, a crude but effective image.
In Die Walküre, the contraption conceived by the production team for the Valkyries’ horses was among the most ingenious and appealing I’ve ever seen: a man wearing a metallic horse head on aerodynamically designed stilts, enabling smooth jumping and leaping. In the final scene of Siegfried, Grane, Brünnhilde’s faithful horse, sleeps next to her. As she awakens, so does the animal, who then sleepily ambles across the stage, alluding to an awakening from extended slumber. Hannah Postlethwaite’s sets were striking, and didn’t distract from the action. By this third instalment of the Ring, even the most conservative spectators would have been familiar with the juxtaposition of non‑European cultures with Norse mythology. Given the great beauty and ingeniousness of Postlethwaite’s work, I suspect even initially reticent spectators would be on board, able to enjoy the striking imagery.
Vocally, Siegfried’s leading roles are sung by the soloists from the previous opera. Finnish dramatic soprano Camilla Nylund was an ideal Brünnhilde in this production, as she was in Die Walküre. In addition to possessing the requisite voice and upper register facility, Nylund’s stage presence is intoxicatingly magnificent. Blessed with crystal clear diction, one understood her every word. This great actress conveyed the virgin Valkyrie’s fear as well as her excitement at the prospect of becoming mortal and of loving an earthly hero.
German baritone Michael Volle, Wotan in Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, returns as an imposing Wanderer. Recently heard as the Dutchman in Dresden and in Düsseldorf, Volle is possibly today’s leading Wagnerian baritone. Endowed with a warm yet virile instrument, he is also an exquisite interpreter. His Wanderer conveyed the character’s determination as well as disillusionment. His interaction with Mime was so overpowering that one almost felt sympathy for the slimy Nibelung. Likewise, in Act II, his sense of superiority vis à vis Alberich was almost frightening.
As in Die Walküre, the singer that impressed most was German tenor Klaus Florian Vogt. For once, Siegfried had le physique du role. Vogt is not a typical dramatic tenor, but rather a powerful lyric tenor. Nonetheless, he easily projected sufficiently to reach the highest gallery at La Scala without forcing. His German elocution was a masterclass in itself; one felt he was singing Schubert lieder, so clear was his diction. To sing Wagner so beautifully, with such apparent ease is nothing short of miraculous. He succeeded, without any excess, to convey the hero’s innocence. He was a truly convincing Siegfried.
Despite McVicar’s choice of making Mime a pathetic, aging homosexual, Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke impressed in the role. Manipulative, slithery and cowardly, he was an utterly convincing Mime. In addition to his excellent acting, his diction was superlative, and he seemingly enjoyed every syllable when enunciating his treacherously sweet words. McVicar’s idea of Mime presenting to Siegfried the trip to slay the dragon Fafner as a picnic was amusing. Mime parading with an old‑fashioned picnic box was quite funny.
Estonian bass Ain Anger was an impressive Fafner, with an appropriately cavernous voice. He initially appears in the form of a gigantic contraption manipulated by handlers dressed as bare‑chested Buddhist monks. Once fatally struck, he appears in human form. Despite his terrifying dragon shape, Anger managed to convey a more vulnerable giant than the one he portrayed in Das Rheingold.
Mezzo Anna Kissjudit was the last-minute replacement for an indisposed Erda. Recently heard as the witch Jezibaba in Rusalka in Berlin, twenty-nine-year-old Kissjudit is a vocal phenomenon, reminiscent of Marilyn Horne in her prime. Like the American opera icon, her tone is honeyed and her range vast. Her low notes produced shivers and her high notes delighted. As the role of Erda is entirely low lying, one luxuriated in the mezzo’s deep, rich lower register.
Despite his imposing baritone, Olafur Sigurdarson was an appropriately pathetic Alberich. Francesca Aspromonte was a delicate Waldvöglein, ingeniously portrayed by the soprano, dressed as a Native American with a Mohawk, holding a bird like a puppeteer.
In the previous two operas, Australian conductor Simone Young led La Scala’s orchestra with brio. However, British conductor Alexander Soddy, at the helm for the last two performances of Siegfried, proved to be the most captivating Wagnerian conductor I’ve heard in recent years. He revealed the music’s rich textures, deftly interpreting the score with great reverence. Never have I heard such delicately refined musical direction. Finally, here was a masterfully conducted Wagner, with sufficient panache, but mercifully free of bombast. I’ll be sure not to miss Soddy’s upcoming Götterdämmerung, which promises to be an exquisite culmination of the most alluring Ring I’ve ever heard.
Ossama el Naggar
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