In an era of "Rings" few have stimulated as much interest and controversy as Goetz Friedrich's. Since it was unveiled in 1984 at the Deutsche Oper Berlin, the German director's vision of Wagner's epic four-opera music drama has been the subject of everything from critical analyses to a coffee-table book of its Peter Sykora set designs (the latter going for around $150 last summer at Bayreuth).
When the production was taken to Japan two years ago, tickets, even at $250 per opera, were snapped up almost immediately. Ditto Washington, D.C., where Americans finally got a look at two complete stagings ofthe cycle June 2-18 at the Kennedy Center, in honor of the 40th anniversary of the German Federal Republic. For although the initial tariff, from $180 to $380 for all four nights, was lower, by the time the second cycle got under way the scalper price had reportedly escalated to $2,000.
Even apart from the political overtones, Washington seemed an appropriate venue for this production. For Friedrich has chosen to set Wagner's allegory not in the primeval world of German mythology - the fast-disappearing traditional view - but in a futuristic "time tunnel," whose general look he confesses was inspired by a picture postcard a friend sent him of the Washington Metro, the city's subway system.
"I looked at the London subway stations, I looked at American cities, and I saw that life more and more is going underground," the director is quoted as saying in the program booklet. "And I thought, that is our nightmare today. The sky is no longer the sky people once believed in as a home for the gods. The sky today is for rockets and satellites. The gods have retired. They went away, and I think it was under the earth. We have no sky - the sky is only a dream. We have no nature. Nature is only a dream from the past or from the future."
Thus in Friedrich's conception, like a ring itself, the end is the beginning, represented by having the shrouded gods we see reduced to monoliths at the end of "Goetterdaemmerung" stir to life again at the beginning of "Das Rheingold," condemned to repeat the myth eternally.
Befitting his postwar view, it's a tough old subway system to boot. Here the Valkyries are not so much warrior maidens but a female biker gang, whooping it up in studded leather jackets as they roll bodies through the hatchways. When Hunding surprises Siegmund and Sieglinde in Act 1 of "Die Walkuere," he is accompanied, Chereau-style, by a sinister entourage in trenchcoats with flashlights. Likewise Siegfried's ambush by the Gibichungs in Act 3 of "Goetterdaemmerung," well characterized by one onlooker as "a rumble in the tunnel."
Much of the time this works. In keeping with the claustrophobic atmosphere of this "Rheingold," Wotan literally mugs Alberich for the ring, leaving him with a hook for a hand (mirroring the god's maimed body with its missing eye), and when he surveys his realm in the second act of "Walkuere" it resembles nothing so much as the table-top ruins of Berlin and Hiroshima.
The "Siegfried," moreover, is spectacular, the forest of Act 1 an artificial nursery the dwarf Mime has fabricated amid the swelter of the smithy, complete with happy-face sun and a miniature forge. Similarly the dragon of Act 2 is here a red-eyed, fire-breathing war machine a la "The Empire Strikes Back," whose mechanized exterior falls away to reveal the dying Fafner at the controls once Siegfried has struck the death blow. After which the cycle culminates in a "1984" view of "Goetterdaemmerung" with the evil Hagen surveying the scene Big Brother-style through giant lenses that likewise distort the images of Gunther and, when he enters into their plots, Siegfried himself. ("After all," Friedrich points out, "at the time we did it, it was 1984.")
In the latter two operas tenor Rene Kollo strengthened his claim to be the pre-eminent Siegfried on the world stage today. Especially in the first his robust but sensitive singing, with its artful word shading, went a long way toward putting over Friedrich's view of the hero as a simple country boy, replete with bib overalls.
In this he was matched by the virtuosic Mime of Horst Hiestermann, too cunning for his own good, and the imposing Hagen of Matti Salminen, whose resonant villainy in the second cycle (where he was also the Hunding and, perhaps best of all, the Fasolt) earned him the biggest ovation of the week. Not far behind: the Alberich of Guenter von Kannen, who seemed to warm up to the role each night (a function of having to sing much of it on his knees?).
As things happened we got two Wotans and Bruennhildes, Janis Martin subbing exuberantly for soprano Anne Evans as the Valkyrie in the opera of that title. Indeed, given the way the voice cut through the orchestra, she might have made a better partner for Kollo's Siegfried than Evans, at least in something like the Oath Scene. But even if she had less vitality, Evans' womanliness was not misplaced, especially in the Immolation Scene, where her underlining of the quieter sections registered tellingly.
Musically in fact things seemed to improve as the cycle wore on. The occasionally bathetic Simon Estes would not be my first choice among modern-day Wotans, but his black god made an interesting partner for the Sportin' Life-like Loge of George Shirley, mushily sung but theatrically riveting. And although Robert Hale, from the first cycle, never really communicated the god's tragic grandeur, his incisive projection made him a welcome replacement in "Siegfried," particularly in his question-and-answer game with Mime.
Elsewhere Peter Hofmann sounded vocally below par as Siegmund. Karan Armstrong, however, brought unaccustomed dramatic insight to her role as his sister, illuminating Sieglinde's emotions as intelligently when she wasn't singing as when she was. Similarly, despite some harshness, Eva Johansson succeeded in making Gutrune a real character.
Under conductor Christof Perick the orchestra was likewise metallic much of the time (with a noticeable tonal spread in the brass), arguably in accord with the subway atmosphere - here made dingier still - but often lacking the warmth and lyricism Wagner clearly intended. That may have been due to Perick himself, whose leadership struck me as more competent than brilliant or inspired. (The chorus, however, sounded great.)
By the same token not all of Friedrich's directorial touches rang true - for example, his making Wotan fall prostrate with grief in Act 2 of "Die Walkuere," then having him run from the scene reduced to slacks and a T-shirt. But in the main what he has come up with is a compelling vision, compellingly realized. Indeed, at times I found myself wishing he had gone even farther, such as having Sieglinde use one of those flashlights to illuminate the sword in the ash tree for Siegmund, or keeping Alberich behind the lens when he speaks to Hagen in his sleep, literally amplifying the dreamlike quality.
Friedrich himself acknowledges his view of the "Ring" is a changing one. ("There's so much in it," he says. "You cannot get it all - maybe 20 percent.") So perhaps those ideas will surface next time. But of one thing you can be sure: When these gods come to life again, it won't be the same - for them, for us or, most of all, for Wagner. But on this evidence he can take it.