#Ring Cycle

[haljathefangirlcat]

What's your ideal age range for the Volsung-Nibelung-Dietrich cycle characters? In the Scandinavian sources, Brynhild claims to have been adopted by Agnar and Aud at 12 to be their mascot valkyrie (which is what got her in hot water with Odin) and was put to sleep for any number of years, with sources differing on if her old retainer Heimir was her foster father or brother-in-law. Sigurd himself claims to be barely a man, that is, the legal adult age of 16, when Regin packs him off to slay Fafnir. Altogether it seems the two of them are rather young (16-19 physically?) and Gudrun is also in their age group. Later on Gothorm is too young to swear brotherhood with Sigurd and is thus used to kill him, making him younger than Sigurd and younger than 16 when they met.

In the Continental materials, Giselher is also called young, but there's no mention of Gernot and by extension Giselher being under 16 when they meet Siegfried. Gunther seems a fair bit older than them, being the first born and succeeding to the throne (as a sub-king, presumably, in versions where Gibich is still alive) shortly before Walther's escape from Etzel. However, he doesn't seem to have had a wife in either Continental or Scandinavian versions before his mother suggests Brynhild, which might indicate he's still fairly young. Historically he was active during 411-436, which gives him a 20+ year reign.

Hagen's age definitely has the greatest variation across sources. In the Nibelungenlied proper he's much older than the Nibelung siblings, but in the Walther stories he doesn't seem that much older than Walther, Hildegund, and Gunther, and the first two might be preteens at oldest. And of course in the Scandinavian materials, he's definitely younger than Gunther, being one of the Nibelung brothers. Classically, he's brother #2, slotting between Gunnar and Gothorm, with his father being Andvari/Alberich/Aldrian the elf. Wagner makes him presumably the youngest sibling. (Of course there's also the possibility that Grimhild/Ute just brought him along when she married Gibich, which would make him the oldest sibling. And also explain why Gibich would just pawn him off to Etzel.) Dankwart is also in the older adult range, but if Hagen was illegitimate, he could just have had a different mother, because who knows how long elves live, except it being very long. Hagen's unnamed sister (Gullrond?) would have to be much older to give Hagen two nephews, one of which is an adult during the Nibelungenlied.

Dietrich's age is also funky. He's presumably the same age as Wudga and Heime, his two closest companions until the exile. They don't seem to be too much older than Siegfried, Gunther, and Kriemhild. Dietrich gets tutored by Hildebrand when he's seven, acquires Hildigrim and Nagelring at fifteen, and has his Virginal/Wunderer adventure (the plots are so similar I suspect them to be the same story) at sixteen. He goes into exile sometime between the Rosengarten tournament and Kriemhild's marriage to Etzel. By then he's definitely a fair bit older than the young adults Alphart, Wolfhart, and Dietlieb, but Hildebrand is just ready to welcome the birth of Hadubrand. Historically, the Burgundian Nibelungs died in 436, the Visigothic Dietrich died in 451, Attila died in 454, and if Dietrich was also Theodoric the Great, he would've lived into 526. Then again, his family is known for ridiculously long lifespans, with the stories from his cycle claiming his father, grandfather, and uncle all lived into at least their 100s.

Hildebrand, Ilsan, Eckart, and Regin are all consistently portrayed as old guys. So is Sigmund in the Scandinavian material, where he actually featured prominently. Sigurd's two Volsung brothers are presumably dead during the main adventures, because Brynhild and Gudrun mention Hamund and Haki, his nephews via Hamund, usurping the Swedish throne and feuding with the pirate King Sigar. Helgi died in the prime of his life, while Hamund never appears on screen (but the movie adaptation of Hagbard and Signy mentions he was killed by Sigar a few years before, when his sons were children).

Etzel is definitely older than Walther, Hagen, and Dietrich, but strangely, there's no particular mention of him being old. Then again, there's no mention of Gibich and Ute being old in the Rosengarten story either. Nor is there any mention of how much Hjordis and Prince Alf might have aged in the Volsung Saga. In the Scandinavian stuff, Atli's sister Oddrun gets sneaky with Gunnar, but that version doesn't include Etzel's past with Walther, so who knows how old either of the Hun siblings are.

That's a great rundown of all the different traditions, and you make some great points.

As for me, I don't have really have age headcanons for anyone, going more for The Vibes and the "okay, what do I need for this concept to work?", but at the same time, age is one of those things where I tend to compartmentalize pretty heavily, for both practical reasons (I'm pretty sure I'd have a harder time than you keeping track of everything going on and gathering it all up into something coherent!) and thematic ones. (Simply put: different things work better for me, or have a stronger hold on me, in different contexts because I feel I can make more out of them on a narrative level.)

So, here's how things (generally) go in my head:

Norse sources: I tend to see Sigurd as rather young, because as you mentioned, he describes himself as such around the time he's sent off to kill Fafnir. I also tend to see his first adventures, from finding Grani to falling for Sigrdrifa/Brynhild and meeting Gjuki's children, as happening in rather quick succession, sort of a whirlwind of violence and drama and revenge and romance... so, yeah, still a teen (older teen at most) when he ends up meeting married to Gudrun. I imagine Gjuki's children to be all pretty close in age (except maybe Gothorm, a fair bit younger than the rest, and Gullrond, who reads sort of like a wise oldest sister to me, tho she doesn't feature a lot in my headcanons) and in the same age range as Sigurd, but I don't otherwise have a fixed birth order for in my head besides Gunnar being the oldest.

Brynhild is... complicated. You've got the enchanted sleep, and the question of how long it lasted and how fast or slow she aged, physically and mentally, in it. You've got all her wisdom and knowledge that, to me, makes her read a little older than Siegfried in her brief stint as his teacher, but then again, also the fact that she used to be a Valkyrie rather than just a mortal woman, so all that might be more supernatural knowledge and wisdom than anything else. And then, you have her foster father, Heimer (who's also her brother-in-law through her sister Bekkhild), and her brother Atli, and ofc Agnar. The timeline can get kind of messy, if you try to make it all fit in, because there's just so much stuff. The one thing I always stick by is Atli being considerably older than her (by a decade or more) and them not being particularly close, due to the "Atli didn't give much of a damn about getting compensation for her death, it was just a pretext to get the gold" interpretation, which is the one I tend to favor.

Nibelungenlied/Waltharius/continental sources: Here, I tend to see everyone as a bit older then their Norse counterparts. Siegfried, after all, has already conquered something like twelve kingdoms and gained his fair share of fame through distant lands by the time he comes to Worms -- and while dragon-blood-enhanced strength must certainly come in handy with all that, all in all, it must still have taken him some time. Still, I do seem him as kind of younger than you'd expect with his curriculum. A little older than yet still a good fit for Kriemhild, a maiden who's definitely able to fall in love and fall hard yet doesn't seem to have ever felt that kind of feeling for anyone before meeting him, to the point she used to see the whole thing as something foreign and that she could totally just choose to avoid.

My birth order for her and her brothers is generally Gunther > Gernot > Kriemhild > Giselher. With the eternal "youth" Giselher, who gets stuck with that title even in later parts of the poems being kind of the baby of the family. Not literally, ofc, but in the sense that, even if the poem counts him as one of the three kings of Burgundy and protectors of Kriemhild, it's his brothers who handle most of the harder work even while kind of "mentoring" him on kingship through the rather hands-on method of having him rule alongside them. Anyway, I see this whole set of siblings as pretty close in age, too, just to avoid overcomplicating my life, but with a couple of years separating Gunther & Gernot and Kriemhild & Giselher, something that also influences their dynamics as siblings.

When it comes to Hagen, I'm very influenced by the Waltharius, where he's presumably the same age as Walther and Hildegund and somewhat older than Gunther. I still don't see him as that much older than his kings, tho, as I interpret Gunther being too young to be sent away as a hostage to the Huns as him really being very young. Think Hagen being in his early teens and Gunther still being a child at the time. I tend to assume something like an at least five years difference between them, and then Gunther ascending to the throne a bit younger than he should probably be due to Gibich's very sudden and premature death, with Ute being his counselor (or trying to be, at least -- Wasgenstein wasn't exactly the most brilliant idea and I do think she opposed it but also that in the end it was still his choice) for the first few years and then him naming Gernot (and finally Giselher) as his co-kings as soon as possible due to feeling the pressure of being the only ruler as soon as he got started on the job. (Which, in my head, also contributes to him only setting his eyes on a bride rather late, despite the court muttering a bit about it at times... too much stuff on his mind already, and for a good while, too.)

Dankwart is an interesting case, as in the latter half of the poem, he claims to have also been just a youth when Siegfried was murdered. Granted, I've seen interpretations dismissing that info as a mere messed-up timeline or as Dankwart just lying through his teeth, due to his role in the court of Worms, but I personally find more interesting/funnier to take it as face value. The idea of him being about as cunning as his older brother Hagen and proving himself as an asset to the kingdom from an early age (perhaps in part to live up to Hagen himself and his deeds) yet playing the "I am/was only a regular youth" card when it suits him is higly entertaining to me. As for their sister, the mother of Patravid and/or Ortwin, I see her as the oldest of the trio, and definitely already out of the house by the time Aldrian volunteers Hagen as a substitute hostage.

(I'm not very fond of the "Hagen as Gunther's uncle/family friend so dear he might as well be a blood-related uncle" thing, tbh. Does it have some backing? Yeah. Do I see it in the way the characters interact? Not really, and that's what matters the most to me.)

Etzel/Attila was already a considerable threat for the Burgundians at the beginning of the Waltharius, and married, too. And yet, apparently still childless... unless his children with Helche, who iirc get killed by Witege at some point, have already died by then. (But that does involve Dietrich, after all, and... er, I'm talking about him in a moment, let's leave it at that for now.) So, he's a bit of a question mark to me. Tho I like to think he and his wife ended up treating Hagen, Walther, and Hildegung almost like their children, whatever void in their life they're trying to fill by doing that... but ofc, that was a whole mess in it's own way, when everyone was perfectly aware that a broken treaty could spell death for any of those three. (Hi and welcome to a new episode of: Waltharius Manu Fortis Absolutely Obliterates Halja's Feels, I suppose.) I do see his later marriage to Kriemhild as a kind of May-December romance. Or, well, "romance."

Dietrich is... Dietrich. If Brynhild's complicated and Etzel a question mark, he is a headache. I'll admit I've never even tried to build a timeline for him that could possibly make sense in my head. Stephan Grundy has a bit of a running joke about him looking like he never gets old/no one being able to figure out his age for sure, and, tbh, I totally get him. Drag him.

Bonus Wagner's Ring Cycle: I'm pretty sure Gunther mentions being the firstborn... tho I've only ever read the libretti/subtitles to the operas in Italian and English, so for all I know, he might as well be just saying that he has the right of primogeniture, as the one legitimate male son. Still, I see Gutrune as the middle child and Hagen as the youngest. This is another canon that skews very young in my head, with Siegfried, the Gibichungs, Wotan's eternally-maidenly Valkyries, as well as Siegmund and Sieglinde in Die Walkure, all being some subset of Troubled Teen Who Needs Therapy (As Well As Better Parents), Not This Shit. Based on the implied timeline in Die Walkure, I think of Hagen as just a little older (a few months to a year, no more) than Siegfired. I love to joke about the former being a cynical goth/emo teen (Hagen's Night Watch scene and its endless -- if objectively kind of justified -- bitching, my beloved) and the latter being your typical meathead teen jock. I also joke about Gutrune being the stereotypical middle child with no self-esteem and Gunther being the young adult who should probably be at least a little more mature and responsible than everyone else, given his age, but is really just a mess on every level, but alas, I do that mostly just in my head, because sometimes I get the impression it's mostly just me seeing (or being interested in seeing) them this way.

[illustratus]

Siegfried and the Rhinemaidens by Hans Zatzka

[clouds-of-wings]

Broke: Ugly modern minimalist Wagner staging

Woke: Beautiful old-fashioned Wagner staging

Bespoke: FUTURISTIC PSYCHEDELIC SPACE WAGNER

I have slowly watched the Ring Cycle in the 2008 Valencia production over the last weekends. (It's also on YT, but without subtitles.) First time I watched the whole thing! I wanted something more traditional at first, but I happened upon an excerpt of this version and it just somehow appealed to me, so I watched this instead.

(I still agree with what I said on the topic earlier - if I didn't know anything about the source material, the Nibelungen and Norse mythology, I would have found this staging very confusing.)

Anyway, here's some pictures because it just looks so damn cool. Sorry the quality is not so great. DON'T click to enlarge! Believe me, you'll regret it.

THE NORNS:

Fricka argues with Wotan:

THE VALKYRIES:

A talking bird:

This is what the inside of a dragon lair looks like:

The scheming nobles / corrupt elite are investment bankers or something. First picture: Gutrune and Gunther. Second picture: Hagen and his men.

Alberich visits his son Hagen:

Brünnhilde in her wedding dress, having the worst day of her life in front of Rhine-waves made from empty plastic bottles:

Mime in his chemistry lab (this must be REALLY confusing to anyone who doesn't know the story - why does he have an isolated chemistry lab in the forest? Originally he's a smith.):

Wotan and Mime talk about giants, which are visualized as battle mechs, I was so delighted!

Wotan, who was intensely dramatic for 16 hours straight:

The wall of fire around Brünnhilde's rock bed:

Gutrune always travels in her personal miniature death star:

Finally, Ragnarök:

And those are the 30 pictures per post that I'm allowed.

[beckmessering]

hildegard behrens as brünnhilde // götterdämmerung, 1990

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Music, Schopenhauer wrote, is not unconscious arithmetic, as Leibniz had claimed, but unconscious philosophy, since in music the inner essence of the world, which is will, is made directly present to the mind.

- Roger Scruton, The Ring of Truth: The Wisdom of Wagner's Ring of the Nibelung    

[opera-ghosts]

"Durch Wald und Wiese, Heide und Hain, jagte mich Sturm und starke Not" DIE WALKÜRE - R. WAGNER Here some Siegmunds (first act)

Adolf Wallnöfer as Siegmund; Prague, 1890

Ernst van Dyck or Dijck as Siegmund; Paris, 1892

Peter Cornelius as Siegmund; Bayreuth, 1906

Einar Forchhammer as Siegmund; Dresden, ?

Alois Pennarini as Siegmund; ?, ?

Alfred von Bary as Siegmund; Dresden, 1908

Johannes Sembach as Siegmund; Dresden, 1909

Paul Franz as Siegmund; Paris, ?

William Miller as Siegmund; Vienna, ?

Nicolai Reinfeld as Siegmund; Munich, ?

Alois Hadwiger as Siegmund; Graz, ?

Carl Jahn as Siegmund; Magdeburg, ?

Josef Schöffel as Siegmund; Karlsruhe, ?

Oskar Ralf as Siegmund; Bayreuth, 1928

Paul Hansen as Siegmund; Berlin, ?

Gunnar Graarud as Siegmund; Bayreuth, 1930

Paul Wiedemann as Siegmund; Bayreuth, 1928

Walther Kichhoff as Siegmund; Berlin, ?

Richard Schubert as Siegmund; Vienna, ?

Otto Wolf as Siegmund; Munich, ?

Willy Ulmer as Siegmund; Bayreuth, 1914

[doyouknowthisopera]

[c0mpmath3nj0y3r]

so there's this thing called the McCollough effect. i won't post the images here, but essentially, you can break your brain's color perception for months by staring at some red and green striped lines for a few minutes. you can try it on the wikipedia article (if you dare).

anyways, a natural next question is to ask what the auditory equivalent of this is. and though i don't think this is quite the same thing, one possible candidate is listening to opera.

because after watching the entire ring cycle with my friends this weekend, my brain cannot stop interpreting every single background noise as someone belting out a libretto.

[avibero]

So I read Das Rheingold this week. And yes, I have Der Walküre lined up and ready to go already. Never expected myself to be excited to read more opera, but here I am.

[shakespearenews]

I used to say (that) it's like Shakespeare, but it's not like Shakespeare in America anymore, because most people haven't even seen Hamlet. That wasn't the case when I was a kid. I think theater was more in the mainstream in the last hundred years, or more than in the last 25.

Stephen Wadsworth on The Ring Cycle 

[haljathefangirlcat]

Sharing headcanons with you makes me realize...despite Gunther being the oldest Nibelung sibling (and possibly co-king even in his father's lifetime, ala Rosengarten) he's also the least specialized. Hagen/Hogni is the intense and super-strong one, Gernot/Gutthorm is the brave one, Giselher is the young one, and Gudrun/Kriemhild is the sweet one, and Gullrond if she's there might be the smart one. And then of course he gets the most awesome brother-in-law/blood brother who goes around fighting his battles for him. In real history, there's also the fact that his father in fact established their kingdom on the Rhineland, so Gibich must have had some big expectations for his eldest son. While he's no slouch, and rocks some serious musical talents in Norse sources, there's always this subtle feeling of inadequacy to Gunther. He's always pushing himself too hard but it turns out it's never enough. He must have some crippling feelings of inferiority that he's keeping behind that kingly facade.

(And now I imagine Oddrun giving him a "stop trying to be your father, live for yourself for once" speech, that results in him very impulsively doing the sneaky sneak with her.)

... okay, that last bit about Oddrun is just the sweetest thing! And very tragic, too, but I guess that comes with the territory. XD But jokes (and angst) aside, it really does sound like a very genuine and important connection and I love it.

As for Gunnar/Gunther himself, well...

I have to confess that, once, a lot of my ideas used to lowkey fall into the uncahritable "Gunnar/Gunther is kinda useless/weak" interpretation. But thanks to papers like “Mit (un)lobelichen êren”: Authority, Gender, and the Cause of Siegfried’s Death in the Nibelungenlied by Casey Alexis McCreary (about specifically Siegfried, Gunther, and Brunhild in the Nibelungenlied), as well as some influence from dear @galarix and @ivylili, I ended up re-evaluating him a lot both in the continental and Norse sources.

In the latter, I now find it really striking how he did want to leap over the flames, he did want to risk everything to go about the whole thing the right way. But he couldn't, and after that things increasingly spiralled out of his control in all the worst ways... and yet, even in the end, even with some admittedly pretty bad choices in the middle, he was no coward and went out with literally as much dignity as Hagen in the Nibelungenlied, using almost the exact same trick as him to defy his enemies and captors to the end.

In the former, I now find him not a bad king for Burgundy at all, but actually rather clever and resourceful in some moments. The paper I mentioned above actually does a very good job at arguing that he is pretty good at politics, it just that both Siegfried and Brunhild show their royal authority through heroic feats, with impressive shows of brute strength and charisma, so at first glance it's hard to recognize his qualities when they're the ones taking all the spotlight.

But actually having your own, solid good qualities and value, even when other people know about them and acknowledge them, isn't always going to be enough to make you feel satisfied with yourself...

I do still think he has an emotional, hotheaded, and impulsive side that he only learns to control slowly through the years and still gives him trouble sometimes even later on, tho. And as I previously said, I also see him as someone who was forced to take on the responsability of both his kingdom and his family too suddenly, and at too young an age, and always felt the weight of it all hanging above his head like the proverbial Sword of Damocles after that. And, taken together, that would all boil down to a lingering sense of self-doubt, I believe...

When it comes to his place in his family... or rather, families, I tend to see him as the brother who tries to be a proper head of the family, to bring honor and glory to his bloodline while also taking care of his siblings, but sometimes that all becomes too much to bear, and then he feels guilty about it because, is it even okay for him to feel that way? (It's certainly human and understandable, imo, and I think other characters would tell him that, too, but he'd rather keep that all inside until he blows up about some other, unrelated issues due to all the tension that's been building up, lol.)

The harp thing in the Norse stories is fun because it kinda looks like it comes from nowhere to give him a little bit of an Orpheus moment (soothing beasts with music, anyone?) as well as adding that tiny little bit of hope in desperate times only to rip it away right after. But I do like it a lot. I headcanon an interest and a talent for music for both Gunnar and Gunther that, unfortunately, neither of them ever really had the time or the conviction to make into more of a thing. Lately, tho, the multishipper in me who OTPs Volker/Hagen but also loves Gunther/Hagen has actually been playing with the idea of Volker and Gunther becoming closer (either as friends/friendly metamours, or as two people who, perhaps without even really realizing it, are inching their way into forming a throuple with their mutual partner) through Volker encouraging Gunther to revisit his old interest and reconnecting with what made him feel so good about it. But, well, that's another story...

And now, a bit of bonus Wagner because god, those three messed-up Gibichungs: Ring!Gunther is, like, the personification of an inferiority complex. He's literally introduced worrying that all his warring and conquering may not be enough (will maybe never be enough?) to live up to his late father's name. Hagen's mere suggestion that he's been keeping mum about some possible new conquest that could bring him honor pretty much sends him into a panic. He flatters Hagen (the same brother who's illegitimate and only half-human state he'll later callously throw in his face when all's said and done) by saying he's the lucky one who got all of their mother's cunning, but is it all flattery (especially when Alberich pretty much confirms the similarities between Hagen and Grimhild, and he doesn't really need to lie about it after doing his best as far as we know to isolate Hagen from full human beings) or is there some genuine envy there? Brunhhilde literally just needs to tell him he's shaming his family by refusing to kill Siegfried to have him wrapped around her little finger...

(Not that Ring!Hagen and Gutrune aren't also walking talking inferiority complexes in their own respective ways. I am unwell about that family.)

[pushingthewave]

In this week's column, I discover new music on Apple’s Classical app, and am reminded why I dislike Solti’s Ring Cycle.

[lowbeyonder]

We have gone to Vienna and we have returned. We saw opera, we went to museums, we saw more opera, we visited Bratislava, we saw _even more_ opera, we drank beer and ate wiener schnitzel, and finally we dropped in for a bit of opera.

Instagram highlight reel, featuring parks, dogs, and fancy outfits:

A proper photo album will be up when I've curated it.

[beckmessering]

big love for götterdämmerung productions where gibich’s court is

[normal child]

[normal child]

[H̶͍͖͖̦̼͋͂̊̐̊͋Ǟ̷̧̡̧̯͉̠͓̖̘͕̬̯̭̫͕̖̳̗̥͇̞̠͚͍̼̘̜̇̿̌͛̍̀̾͒̀͋̒̏̔̂̒͘͘͝͝͝G̷̲̘̲̖̬̜̃͂͆̓͠Ẻ̸̡̢̙̤̯̰̞͖͓͕͕̼̩̘͕̤̗̦̉͛̋͋̓̓̈́̾̑͆͒̒̅͂̏̈́̎͒͗̓̐͋̏̔̽͘͠͝N̶̡̨̛̦̬̥̫̙̥̯̙̤͓̤̯͚̮̺͙͔̥̲̱͍̳̫͛̔̇͆̽̈́̑̓̇̂͑̀̇̕͜͝]

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: It’s so good to have you back posting. You mentioned seeing Wagner’s Ring Cycle at the Bayreuth Festival no less during your five month hiatus from your blog. How was that? I’m one of the lucky few to make a full time living as a musician in a symphony orchestra. I’m a Wagner fan as you are too and so I hope you could settle a question about Wagner. I’m sure you know how picky he was about the demands he made on his audiences. If Gustav Mahler contributed to the origination of the modern concert hall experience then did Richard Wagner really make the noisy audience shut up and be silent during opera performances on stage?

It’s easy to look at any stern looking portrait of Richard Wagner with his mutton chop whiskers and not think yes, this Teutonic cad is a killjoy (even if you can get past the lurid anti-semitism etc). But I fear for some things we do Wagner an injustice. Many bad things usually attributed to him are in reality unfair and even untrue. Things are so easily believed because it reinforces the nasty bad boy image we have of him.

This past summer I did see Wagner’s Ring Cycle in Bayreuth, the shrine of all things Wagnerian. My French partner grumbled we were better off spending and extra week of vacation in Bali rather than waste a week on Wagner. As a strong Wagnerian, this was all sacrilege to my ears of course. But in hindsight I should have known better. Any opera staged at Bayreuth these days should be approached with fear and trembling. In short, I was better off listening to Wagner on my headphones whilst sipping cocktails on a beach in Bali than live through the dross on display at the Bayreuth festival.

Growing up everyone told me, the best place to see Wagner’s Ring is Bayreuth, in the magnificent Festspielhaus that the composer built for that very purpose and opened in 1876. That’s what they used to say in Wagner’s day but not today. These days if you want a traditional production, as paradoxical as that sounds, you stay away.

Bayreuth has for some time now specialised in clever, sometimes too-clever-by-half, productions that place the master’s operas in a new context. But at least they try for coherence, unlike some other venues which have assigned each of the four operas to a different director. But at least they try for coherence, unlike some other venues which have assigned each of the four operas to a different director. Earlier this year Stuttgart went even further by entrusting each of the three acts of Walküre to three different production teams. Madness - and this new production has plenty of it, whether a good or bad thing depends on your attitude. Minor cheers mixed with extensive booing greeted the first opera Rheingold, and a thunderous boo followed the second, Walküre, immediately the curtain closed. Bayreuth is famous for such disapproval. I admit I was ticked off, annoyed, and then finally seething by the end. I wish I had a flame thrower so I could burn the whole stage down.

This Ring Cycle was being staged byValentin Schwarz, a 30 something Austrian opera director, and under the musical direction of Cornelius Meister. Schwarz was handpicked by Katharina Wagner. She’s the controversial director running the Bayreuth Festival - not because of talent (she has none) but by virtue of being Richard Wagner’s great-granddaughter (as well as Lizst’s great great granddaughter). In fact Schwarz’s production of the Ring Cycle was actually delayed from 2020 because of the Covid lockdown - so he had all these two years or so to fine tune it and get it right. He did neither and it was a like someone taping your eyelids back and strapping you down before forcing you for nights on end to watch a mind numbing TV soap opera on huge plasma screen.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment I opened the programme notes. My heart sank. Schwarz wasn’t looking to make a coherent Ring Cycle with Wagner’s libretto in a traditional sense, and is instead intended to be “constructively disrespectful”. Such a concept, which includes a deliberately “liberal approach to the plot”, and shifting representations of objects and ideas over the four evenings, is justified by alleged inherent inconsistencies within the work itself.

Oh. Dear God. No.

So this chap’s artistic approach was to go for ‘coherent incoherence’ to his overarching message. No, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

I know Wagner traditionalists, and I include myself, are always a hair trigger away from getting our knickers in a twist but when you’re putting on the complete Ring Cycle over four days then we can expect the bare minimum. So there has to be Ring because it’s called the Ring Cycle and preferably gold. And maybe throw in moving funeral march of Siegfried and a heart breaking farewell of Wotan to his daughter Brunnhilde. The bar is quite low. But no, we had none of this. Not even spears or swords and certainly no dragons (as Wagner had intended).

Wagner’s original conception embraces a three-fold division of the world: the Nibelungs beneath the world, the giants on the surface, and the gods in the cloudy heights; all this is made explicit in the third opera Siegfried. But what do we the audience get: a cheap and nasty prime time TV soap opera with studio sets to match. The paddling pool of Rheingold, where the Rhine maidens appear as nannies with children, had become a deep but empty swimming pool. There Hagen kills Siegfried, while his vassals lie half asleep in the fenced-off area above. Brünnhilde, who is supposed to be the tragic but awesome agent of destruction and rebirth, settled herself on the bottom of an empty and dirty swimming pool next to the dead body of her husband Siegfried with the remains of her mutilated horse in a plastic bag.

I tried to look past this travesty and honestly digged deep to make sense of what the production was trying to say. The whole staging and the costumes had a TV family soap opera flavour, that was blindingly obvious. But to what end? If there was an overarching theme then perhaps it was to focus on families and how wealth transforms and poisons future generations such as child abuse. The opening E flat chords of Das Rheingold played to a projection of twin foetuses in the womb. At first, they were intertwined peacefully, before one attacked the other, ripping the umbilical cord from its stomach. Moreover, through his programme notes, if not via actions on stage, Schwarz tells us that these warring foetuses are actually brothers of his own creation – Wotan and Alberich. What this sets up is an attempt to place the majority of the work’s characters into one of two branches of the same family – broadly, the have and have-nots – in order to compare their contrasting, or sometimes similar, fortunes, throughout the four evenings.

If that was the theme then I not convinced that it worked. Wotan at the start appears as a wheeler-dealer with a mobile phone, willing to be utterly ruthless, as when he shoots his own extra-marital son Siegmund in the second opera. This is Wagner’s Ring as dynastic soap opera but who cares? It’s not going anywhere. Schwarz’s idea, in Rheingold, that the cycle’s foundational sin was the seizure of a child, not of the gold from which a ring of power would be created, was not convincing. In Die Walküre, successfully subverting another big moment to the horror of traditionalists, he placed the final focus of the opera on Fricka’s futile triumph over Wotan, not on Wotan’s farewell to his daughter Brünnhilde. cycle ran out of steam in the end because it had no big or unifying idea.

New Ring cycles are springing up as the world’s opera houses get back into their rhythms after the pandemic. It is a competitive market. Among others, there was a well received one in Leipzig in June of this year, a promising one in Zürich, there’s another in Berlin this autumn and two in London in the years to come. Bayreuth remains an extraordinary venue, its ambitious ability to mount a new cycle in a single season is remarkable, and the 150th anniversary Ring, to be mounted there in 2026, will doubtless be a global event. But the festival feels as though it needs a radical rethink if it is to merit the reputation and attention.

My feeling, after mingling and chatting to others present to witness this travesty, is that many of the audience who were there this year may not have the patience to return for the revival of a Ring that went nowhere.

Increasingly I will tell anyone who wants to experience Wagner is to stay away from Bayreuth. Go and see a production anywhere else but Bayreuth that actually honours the spirit of Wagner’s artistic vision and above all respects the operatic lore and the source material.

So let’s move on to more pleasant matters. Your question of Wagner and silence in operatic performances.

In effect you're asking about audiences at performances rather than the performers which I think is an interesting question!

Wagner the composer, not the man, was responsible for many things which I think he doesn’t get enough credit for. In effect he revolutionised the operatic stage. Of course one one of his reforms was to dispense with the term "opera," which he replaced with Music Drama. It was at his iconic Festival Playhouse in Bayreuth that he pioneered innovations which we all now take for granted as traditions. It was Wagner who first hid the orchestra in a sunken pit. It was Wagner who insisted on darkening the theatre. And it Wagner who did away with boxes (except for King Ludwig) and instead built in amphitheatrical seating with no aisles. All these innovations were designed as a way to focus all the attention to the stage. The atmosphere of ‘consecration’ striven for at Bayreuth - Parsifal, Wagner's last stage work, was called something like a "Stage-Consecrating Festival Play" (Bühnenweihfestspiel) - meant that talking, moving, etc. were strongly discouraged. Since all the seats were in long rows that spanned the entire auditorium with no aisles, it was basically impossible to leave your seat during an act without making a scandal.

But did Wagner innovate the idea of silence of the audience before an operatic performance? Back in the day, Mark twain found himself writing a letter back home from Beyrouth where he had seen Tannhauser and suggesting the audience was quiet. He wrote, “I saw the last act of "Tannhäuser." I sat in the gloom and the deep stillness, waiting--one minute, two minutes, I do not know exactly how long - then the soft music of the hidden orchestra began to breathe its rich, long sighs out from under the distant stage, and by and by the drop-curtain parted in the middle and was drawn softly aside, disclosing the twilighted wood and a wayside shrine, with a white-robed girl praying and a man standing near. Presently that noble chorus of men's voices was heard approaching, and from that moment until the closing of the curtain it was music, just music--music to make one drunk with pleasure, music to make one take scrip and staff and beg his way round the globe to hear it.”

An audience at Bayreuth hasn’t always been known to be silent especially when they witness what they see as sacrilege on stage and they vent to make their feelings known with boos and cat calls. The story is similar in Milan at the equally famed La Scala too. In Italy to boo and catcall at the opera is positively a national past time. At La Scala opera singers were (and still are) at the mercy of a small group of Milanese musical purists - known as loggionisti, because of their fondness for the cheap seats (loggione) - if their performance was not up to scratch. It’s perfectly normal to interrupt the performance several times with noisy catcalls, and then round off the evening by booing loudly during the curtain call. How charming.

But did Wagner definitely usher in the silent audience for an operatic performance? It’s hard to say. We need to step back a little.

When the first public opera houses were founded in the mid-17th century, they were designed more as venues for social interaction than as sites of pure and sacrosanct aesthetic experience. Fanning out from the stage in glittering tiers were the boxes. Owned or leased by aristocrats or wealthy bourgeois, these intimate little spaces were perfect for entertaining guests, exchanging gossip or simply being seen. Down below was the parterre. Usually left open and generally without seating, this was the preserve of lower-income groups, including soldiers, students and servants, who used the space to meet friends, share a drink and gamble. Accordingly, the music was treated with noisy indifference, at best, or vocal contempt, at worst. Audiences were more interested in their own conversations than with what was happening on stage. They might perhaps listen to an aria, or watch the ballet (if there was one), but no more; and, if they did not like what they heard, they would make their displeasure known.

By the 18th century – when many theatres installed seats in the parterre and converted the top tiers of boxes into open loggione - the unruliness of performances had already become a commonplace of literature. In Les Liaisons dangereuses (1782), for example, Pierre Choderlos de Laclos indicated that well-bred patrons thought it quite acceptable to chat throughout a performance. In a letter to Sophie Carnay, Laclos’ ‘heroine’ Cécile de Volanges relates that she had been invited to the Marquise de Merteuil’s box at the Paris Opéra so that they could talk about her forthcoming marriage ‘without any fear of being overheard’. Naturally, such sociability all but smothered the music. After a visit to La Scala in 1770, the English music historian, Charles Burney, complained that the ‘abominable noise and inattention’ of his fellow patrons had made it impossible to make out anything but a few bars during some of the better known arias.

We can assume that British opera-goers were more reverent than their Italian counterparts. Samuel Sharp, a Brit visiting Naples in 1765, wrote in horror that at the San Carlo opera house “the crowd laughed and talked through the whole performance, without any restraint; and, it may be imagined, that an assembly of so many hundreds conversing together so loudly, must entirely cover the voices of the singers.” 85 years later, Mary Shelley expressed similar frustrations in Milan: “Unfortunately, as is well known, the theatre of La Scala serves, not only as the universal drawing-room for all the society of Milan, but every sort of trading transaction, from horse-dealing to stock-jobbing, is carried on in the pit; so that brief and far between are the snatches of melody one can catch.” In fact, for a while, La Scala was the only place the Milanese were allowed to gamble.

But this was entirely understandable. Imagine you’re an upper-class citizen in 18th or 19th-century Italy. You go to the opera regardless of what is playing, simply because that is where you will encounter the rest of society. You might attend in hopes of catching the eye of an attractive young lady or gentleman. Or maybe you want to talk politics - you can do that during the performance, too. Disappointed in a singer? Mention it to everyone else in your box. Hungry or thirsty? Flag down a seller of drinks or oranges. Buy and eat them - no need to wait for an intermission.  Mid-eighteenth-century composers intentionally gave a less important singer the first aria in act two. This was known as the “sorbet aria”: it was traditional to serve sorbet at that time, and the clinking of the spoons made the music difficult to hear.) If the opera truly bores you, you can always pay a visit to friends in another box or head to the gambling tables.

Angered by the lack of respect for their music, some composers attempted to fight back – even writing works satirising their audiences’ bad manners. The anonymous Critique des Hamburgischen Schauplatzes (1725), for example, offered a comical defence of opera against the frequent interruptions of German loggionisti. But it was a losing battle. Realising that no audience would listen to an entire work, composers started to produce pieces that took account of their inattention. These often included an aria di sorbetto (‘sherbet aria’), an incidental passage that allowed the audience to buy food or drink without fear of missing anything important.

Such concessions only encouraged further raucousness. By the early 19th century, it was almost out of control. In Paris, the situation was particularly bad. In the 1830s, Honoré de Balzac admitted that no one went to the Opéra for the music; while in Stendhal’s Le rouge et le noir (1830) Julien Sorel quickly learns to disregard the performance in favour of his own intrigues. But in Milan, it was even worse. In 1840, Mary Shelley wrote: ‘The theatre of La Scala serves not only as the universal drawing-room for all the society of Milan, but every sort of trading transaction, from horse-dealing to stock-jobbing, is carried on in the pit; so that brief and far between are the snatches of melody that one can hear.’

This kind of control the audience had even influenced what performance happened onstage as well. We still see the occasional encore of a famous aria by a star singer, but in past centuries the audience could and did demand multiple encores of many pieces (little wonder, given how difficult it must have been to hear them the first time around!). In Vienna in 1786, Le nozze di Figaro was received five encores its first night and seven its second (prompting an emperor-imposed ban on encores at future performances, to keep the opera to a reasonable length). Verdi’s Otello had a particularly successful premiere in Milan, with even interludes encored and 20 curtain calls!

Not until the late 19th century did the composers and music directors gain the upper hand and in turn imposed silence as the norm for watching audiences. Even then, it took longer to reach some countries than others. An amusing illustration of the difference between Britain and Italy can be found in E.M. Forster’s novel Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905). Hoping to talk their widowed sister-in-law out of marrying an Italian, the interfering siblings, Philip and Harriet Kingcroft, rush off to the Tuscan town of Monteriano. Soon after arriving, Philip spots a poster announcing a performance of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor and tries to persuade the sceptical Harriet to go with him. ‘However bad the performance is to-night’, he warns, ‘it will be alive. Italians don’t love music silently, like the beastly Germans. The audience takes its share – sometimes more.’ And so it turns out. Though Harriet does not care for music, Forster noted, she knows ‘how to listen to it’, and is outraged by the constant shouting and whistling. Not until the mid-20th century would poor Harriet have been able to find an Italian theatre where silence more or less reigned.

Why did audiences change their minds? Part of the reason is undoubtedly the evolution of opera itself. Although composers had previously been willing to accommodate unruly behaviour, the advent of Romanticism persuaded Germans to adopt a more uncompromising approach in their music. Beginning with Louis Spohr – who abhorred the ‘vile noise’ of Italian opera houses – attempts were made to make opera more like the Singspiele (‘sing-plays’) of folk tradition. This entailed grouping arias into longer and more coherent scenes, which could not be interrupted or missed without the narrative thread being lost. The culmination of this trend was Richard Wagner’s notion of the Gesamtkunstwerk (‘total work of art’).

And now we come to Richard Wagner.

Most people blame Wagner for turning on the sound of silence. Because he was in total control at Bayreuth, he went ahead and eliminated audience boxes, hid the orchestral pit, and plunged the audience into darkness. The message was clear: look at the stage, not each other. Pay attention to the music and the action. Let the artists control your experience.

Wagner though didn’t just control his environment that his art demanded (or enforced) but he made demands on the audience for his music in the name of art. Combining music, poetry and drama in epic form, Wagner greatly expanded the role of the orchestra and relied more on the use of leitmotifs - recurrent musical themes associated with a particular character or idea - much beloved of movie soundtracks today, just listen to any John Williams composed films or Howard Shore’s Lord of the Rings - than on structural divisions to advance the story. So great were the demands placed on audiences, that little scope remained for inattention – or interjection. And, as Wagner’s influence spread, so did the silence.

Of course that silence by the audience during performances was also due to social changes and who went to the opera and it’s important to note that. Between about 1650 and 1850, opera was ‘enjoyed’ by a relatively broad range of people. Though public opera houses tended to be financed by monarchs, nobles or wealthy merchants, performances were attended by high and low alike. In the later 19th century, however, the emergence of music halls changed everything. Offering every kind of entertainment - from music to magic - and a deliberately relaxed atmosphere, these quickly won the favour of the working classes and those who didn’t have spare cash to burn. And so opera houses became the preserve of the upper and middle classes.

And what happens when the bourgeois and the middle classes capture an art form as an exclusive preserve of their class entitlement? They become snobby about it. They had to socially distance themselves from the great hoi polloi and the crude ways of the working poor. And what better way to virtue signal your civilised class refinement that than to socially enforce a reverential code of sacrilegious silence when watching an opera performance on stage?

Indeed it’s ironic that Wagner himself who did much to usher in the silence was a victim himself. At Bayreuth performances audiences do not applaud at the end of the first act. This tradition is the result of a misunderstanding arising from Wagner's desire at the premiere to maintain the serious mood of the opera. After much applause following the first and second acts, Wagner spoke to the audience and said that the cast would take no curtain calls until the end of the performance. This confused the audience, who remained silent at the end of the opera until Wagner addressed them again, saying that he did not mean that they could not applaud.

After the performance Wagner complained, "Now I don't know. Did the audience like it or not?"At subsequent performances some believed that Wagner had wanted no applause until the very end, and there was silence after the first two acts. Eventually it became a Bayreuth tradition that no applause would be heard after the first act, but this was certainly not Wagner's idea. In fact, during the first Bayreuth performances, Wagner himself cried "Bravo!" as the Flower maidens made their exit in the second act. But on this occasion when he did this he was severely hissed by some of the audience watching. Wagner was scolded in his own theatre for being a rabble rousing lout. Charming. 

All this is to say that this has rather uncomfortable implications. In preferring to listen to an opera in silence, are we really just perpetuating a form of Victorian snobbery? I will leave that for you to think further on.

I confess that I grew up in the Wagnerian tradition, like most opera fans, of respecting an operatic performance as it was happening with silence (even if I wanted to scream abuse at someone on stage as if I was at a football match). I’m no different from anyone else if some idiot is coughing loudly and I give him a look of silent despair or if some poor dear starts chatting to her neighbour then I just get mildly annoyed.  I’m there for the opera to lift me out of my body and immerse me into the full drama and music. But even I can understand that such an imposed passivity might make opera inaccessible to everyone (or at least the ones it used to appeal to in the early days). Operas are long - especially Wagner’s operas - and it’s a rare person who can sit through an entire performance hanging on every note with almost religious devotion.

Perhaps the time is long overdue when we need to be so precious with such conventions, if only to broaden the appeal of opera. I’ve been fortunate to have seen operas all across Europe and few exceptional venues overseas too such as the Met in New York. These days if I go to the opera it’s to the Palais Garnier here in Paris. Surprisingly it’s not a stuffy affair as people come dressed as they please and the prices are more affordable, more so than in London. Change in the opera house culture comes at a glacial pace of turning a tanker around, but I feel they are heading in the right direction with their outreach work to appeal to a broader audience.

I’m all for innovation in that regard. Pop up performances in cafés or art galleries or other cool public venues may help people take a second look at opera again…and wrest control away from the stifling hold of the bourgeois. It’s not pure opera but hopefully it helps young people especially to embark on a journey to the opera house.

I hope we can have it both ways. I want to hear the music, and I also want the opera house to be a gathering place for all of society and a true diversity of people. I can’t imagine how one does that. Perhaps longer intermissions for food and drink? A beer tent with premium German beer? Or maybe a quiet gambling den area in the lobby area? And  perhaps a brothel sponsored bonking boxes for…well, I’ll let your imagination run riot. And it would be keeping with tradition too.

The foyer de la danse in an opera house was a backstage room that essentially served as a brothel for opera and ballet patrons and aficionados in the 19th Century. While other international ballets and operas at the time had similar practices, the 19th century Paris Opera Ballet at the Palais Garnier was perhaps the most notorious and most celebrated by Parisians - how else do you suppose Edgar Degas hang out drawing sketches of nubile ballerinas. The opera house managers were positively pimping out the ballerinas and other artistic performers to keep the wealthy patrons sweet. Not that I’m condoning the legitimacy of courtesans flogging their wares during a performance of La Traviata, although Giuseppe Verdi might smile at the irony given that his celebrated opera was essentially about a Parisienne courtesan, Violetta Valery.

I’m sure the surly and serious minded Richard Wagner would get his mutton chop whiskers in a twist.

Thanks for your question.  

[opera-ghosts]

„Der Ring des Nibelungen“ R. WAGNER „The End“ Some "in front of the curtains", "backstages", rehearsals and curiosities

"Walküre"Anny Konetzni and ?; Vienna Volksoper, 1926

"Aus dem Wald fort in die Welt ziehen!"Gotthelf Pistor (Siegfried) and Erich Zimmermann (Mime); Backstage Berlin, ?

"Rheingold" - Anny Konetzni (Fricka), Luise Helletsgruber (Freia) and Walter Grossmann (Wotan), Rehearsal; Vienna, 1936

"Siegfried" - Luise Willer as Erda, Backstage; Milan, 1938

"Walküre" - ? (Siegmund, Fafner, Fasolt) and ? (stage director); Rehearsal; Paris, ?

"Walküre" - ? (Siegmund, Brünnhilde, Sieglinde, Hunding) and ? (stage director) Backstage/Rehearsal; Paris, ?