Kirov's Ring Cycle

Kirov's Ring Cycle
boredom at the Metropolitan Opera

As a huge opera fan I felt somehow unworthy of calling myself a true opera without having seen Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. When I heard the Kirov Opera conducted by Valery Gergiev with the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg would present The Ring Cycle at Lincoln Center, I bought a cheap seat in Family Circle a year ago. It was an early birthday present to myself. So I was excited and prepared for a four day marathon of over 20 hours of great opera.

Monday started with Das Reingold. The story sets the stage with the water sirens setting the whole quest into motion by losing the gold from the Rhine to the dwarf, Alberich. In the meantime, Wotan, leader of the gods, put himself into an awkward position by bargaining his wife's sister as payment to the giants whom built his idyllic castle, Valhalla. But when his sister-in-law, Freia, is gone, the gods find themselves aging without her protective powers to keep them young. Down in the underworld of dwarfs, Alberich forges a ring from the gold while bullying his brother, Mime, into making a protective helmet rendering the wearer invisible. But Loge, the fire god, tricks Alberich and takes him up to Wotan where the gods demand the Rhine gold to pay the giants and hopefully retrieve Friea. But Alberich places a curse on the ring and dramatic tragedy is foreshadowed. Die Walküre introduces us to the motals and Wotan's daughters, the Valkyries. Siegfried is the title of the third night of opera and it is also the name of the mortal Wotan plans to get the ring. But Brunhilde, his Valkyrie daughter, is siegfired's lover and Wotan's plans fall apart in Götterdämmerung, the final opera, when she returns the ring to the Rhine after Siegfried's death. With the ring returned, Alberich's curse is complete and the gods fall.

Wagner's score and detailed operas have become a collective touchstone of mythology and human journey. I was really looking forward to the grand and operatic glory of having the four pieces presented at the Met Opera; I even bought my tickets over six months in advance. With the Kirov production, I expected grand staging and performances. I was sadly disappointed at most every turn. The sets were a mess of stark pagan blandness with only a few hints of beauty and gild resigned to the Rhinegolds. These giant paper mache bodies dominated the stage through the majority of the scenes like some evil rejects from Wickerman. And the singing wasn't any better than the sets. The Valkyries were woefully underwhelming. But at least the orchestra was sublime and well directed. I just closed my eyes and tried to forget the rest. I wonder what Henry Kissinger thought of the production ... caught him dining between acts at the restaurant on the main tier.