Powerful Cast Leads Extraordinary Walküre

In the 18 years since the Metropolitan Opera revamped its Ring Cycle with a new production by Otto Schenk, there have been few times when the epic's performance has become an event. Wagner's acolytes may turn out year after year, but it takes more than a few stirring "hojotoho"s to convince most opera-goers to sit through even one installment of the 17-hour Cycle. This year's Die Walküre, however, is more than an event: it is a milestone. Rarely do such singers as Deborah Voigt, Plácido Domingo, and James Morris perform together, even at the Metropolitan Opera, and the opportunity to see them should not be passed up.

Among the opera luminaries, it was Voigt who stood out. In her first Metropolitan Opera production since the recent unpleasantness at Covent Garden, Voigt proved that as an actress and as a soprano, she is nearly unrivaled. Her lush voice filled the house with power and color, and those qualities carried over into her portrayal of Sieglinde. Even at moments of despair and humiliation, Voigt's Sieglinde retained the courage and energy of her divine heritage.

As Siegmund, Sieglinde's long-lost brother and newfound lover, Plácido Domingo may have lacked Voigt's physical vigor, but in the power of his voice he matched her almost note for note. His rendition of the "Winterstürme" aria was tender, tinged with an aching sense of foreboding, a consciousness that love may develop in spring but must eventually face winter. His fight scene with Sieglinde's husband Hunding (bass Matti Salminen) was the only disappointment; both men fought as if they were attached to ventilators.

Weariness works better for James Morris' Wotan. As father to Siegmund and Sieglinde, Wotan must support his children, but as leader of the gods, he must support the conventions of marriage that they are shattering. Browbeaten by his wife Fricka into destroying the union of his two children, Wotan is a weary god indeed. "What crime did they commit when spring united them?" he asks Fricka, but to no avail. Appropriately, the strength of Morris' voice declined during the evening, nearly breaking in the emotionally wrenching closing scene when he places a curse on his other daughter, Brünnhilde.

The renowned soprano Jane Eaglen, portraying Brünnhilde, had no similar excuse for the surprising flaws in her performance. Her voice was trapped in her throat; even the notes of her character's signature "hojotoho"s seemed to quickly peter out and fall into the orchestra pit. Eaglen's acting was also disappointing--she lumbered awkwardly around the stage and often looked as though she were trying to find her chalk marks.

The pleasant surprise was Yvonne Naef, who is making her Metropolitan Opera debut this season as Fricka. While her husband Wotan remains nostalgic for the world of humanity, Naef's Fricka was resolutely and unapologetically a goddess. She gave orders to Wotan with hauteur--but it's difficult to imagine such a sharply soaring voice giving commands any other way.

Güunther Schneider-Siemssen's sets matched the monumental quality of the leads but lack the originality of the vocal talent. To be fair, Schneider-Siemssen tried to recreate the atmosphere of Wagner's 1876 Bayreuth staging, but the effect ended up being ornately ponderous. Gil Wechsler's maddeningly dim lighting didn't help, especially when there was such superb to be seen. It's hard to imagine that even the citizens of pre-electricity Bayreuth were forced to squint as much as the Met's audience. Nevertheless, Schneider-Siemssen and Gil Wechsler achieve some spectacular effects, especially the closing scene's fiery finale when they bathe the stage in a smokey orange haze.

Pulling the production's sometimes uneven elements together was conductor James Levine, who led the orchestra through a crisp but ebullient performance of Wagner's quintessentially Teutonic score. The leitmotifs were distinct yet harmonious, and Levine was consistently careful to accompany, not lead, the musically talented cast that made this production so extraordinary.