Die Walküre (Bridgewater Hall, Manchester)
What is the best way to introduce someone to Wagner, granted that, for assorted reasons, his art is thought to be exceptionally forbidding? I have always found that it’s enough to provide a few dates, to place him in respect of his forebears and contemporaries; to say a few things about his artistic aims — which involves saying a little about how he thought art, opera in particular, relates to society — give a brief outline of the plot of whichever opera is to be performed, and make sure that the tyro follows the words. And that is all. Anyone who takes to Wagner’s music-dramas is likely to want, in the first place, to hear and see more of them, and then to find out more about the man who wrote them. It’s at that stage that some guidance from a reasonably knowledgeable person will come in handy. The information needed for the first encounter is almost certain to be found in the programme, or in the CD booklet.
Two years ago the Hallé, under Sir Mark Elder, gave a notable performance of Götterdämmerung, spread over two evenings, an excellent idea, since Act I is so lengthy and emotionally taxing. Act I was preceded by Elder’s giving a short talk, which set the scene and the tone ideally. The performance made it on to CD, and its impressiveness is there for all to hear.
This year it was the turn of Die Walküre, in some ways a less daunting work than Götterdämmerung, and the opera I have often found to be the most accessible for getting someone to grasp the unique kind of magnetism and grandeur of Wagner’s art. It is a work of such urgency that the close of Act I has one longing to go on immediately to Act II, and the end of that act, the pivotal and possibly the greatest act of the Ring, propels one into Act III.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in