Das Rheingold

The opera began in E flat with a sonorous 4 minute overture, setting the stage for the Rhine, undulating, the rocking motion of water, under which appeared the 3 Rhinemaidens.

Really, before the opera began we were backstage, watching the Rhinemaidens learn to work the trolleys, harness and wires of their costuming months before the day of the opera. When the curtain opened there they were – their faces glistening with the shine that water leaves on the skin, sparkles on their skin, and drops of water on their costuming, bubbles coming out of the mouth of the maiden who was singing for us.

Glen, Janet, Kelvin and I were at the opera. For the technician running the show, everything was going wrong. The transmission stopped, pixelated on the screen which was not full screen yet. When we did see the full screen the Rhinemaidens’ heads were being projected on the curtain. The subtitles were lost on the bottom of the screen, either only the first line showing, or only the tops of the letters of the first line showing. There was no booing from audience. Glen leaned over said, “Perhaps we are going to have 3 free hours this afternoon, after all.”

The audience at this theatre didn’t pick up and leave. The problems were 90% sorted out, we watched the reswt of the show and free movie tickets to the next special event were handed out to us at the door as we left.

The music was so ... so ... Wagnerian. The costuming was over the top. The muscles on the giants seemed like arms made for the Michelin man. Cod-pieces are the new accessory for the opera season. Wotan’s lock of hair hung down from his forehead and was plastered over one eye. I was well into the show before I figured out the correct pronunciation of his name, having talked of him all week as Wotan. But hearing the singers I clicked in. As Wittgenstein is really (V)ittgenstein, as Wagner is really (V)anger, so Wotan is really (V)otan. Slow learner, Arta, on that one.

My absolute favourite character was Albericht, that evil gnome – hard not to love a guy who has pockets full of gold and can smelt gold rings that have magical powers. Beautiful voice, fabulous dreadlocks, master of lesser gnomes. I also enjoyed the tarnhelm (helmet) forged by Mime, especially when it was thrown around the shoulders of Loge, the god of fire (it was a very flexible helmet). How very London of Loge to turn it into a scarf – such verve and daring.

My favourite curse is the one put on the ring – until it returns to him, whoever does not possess it will desire it, and whoever possesses it will live in anxiety and will eventually be killed and robbed of it by its next owner.

Now there is a piece of jewellery to die for.