Kosky’s oddly staged Siegfried disappoints though Pappano and his orchestra are on top form

United Kingdom Wagner, Siegfried: Soloists, Orchestra of the Royal Opera House / Sir Antonio Pappano (conductor). Broadcast live (directed by Peter Jones) from the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 31.3.2026 and viewed at the Chelmsford Theatre, Essex, 5.4.2026. (JPr)

Unfortunately, I come to bury Barrie Kosky’s Siegfried, not to praise it as (too?) many seem to have done. Seeing this latest instalment in the ongoing new Covent Garden Ring cycle I could not avoid what other commentators have written about it; all I can add is that they obviously saw and heard something different to me. Perhaps the cinema experience is different to that in the opera house but for me the camera never lies. Fundamentally, I believe the issue is that for a number of decades Wagner’s operas – Longborough notwithstanding – are such rare events in this country. Unless you travel to see them elsewhere (Germany?) or watch the occasional livestreams (The Met’s Tristan und Isolde?), you are not going to see enough to truly appreciate the good from the bad.

Apparently, we are in Barrie Kosky and set designer Rufus Didwiszus’s post-apocalyptic world, but I have no real idea what the director is trying to ‘tell us’ with this minimally staged Ring and we heard nothing from him during this broadcast. Act I had its moments, staging-wise, but was more like an opera based on TV’s legendary comedy Steptoe and Son (remember them?). It was dominated by Mime and Siegfried’s rather cramped-looking tree house and had two, admittedly ingenious, Rowland Emett-inspired whimsical machines for forging Nothung which were created by scouring junkyard detritus (from 74 Oil Drum Lane?). The second act for some reason best known to Kosky was sourced from Act III of almost any production of La bohème with a hut, loads of snow, a tree, a Waiting for Godot  bench, a lamp post and nothing else. The opening scene of Act III was played like a costumed concert version in front of a screen before Brünnhilde’s supposed fire-surrounded rock became a meadow of wildflowers which filled the stage, along with a familiar-looking charred tree that the ever-present elderly, naked Erda – who earlier appeared as the head gardener –  retreats into (as a portaloo?) before the opera reaches its conclusion.

It is the over-use of that Erda figure recalling past events that causes me increasing concern particularly because Peter Jones’s close-up camerawork for the screen was rather voyeuristic at times. If Illona Linthwaite playing the silent – if sometimes miming – Erda is willing to be on the stage for most of the opera’s more than four hours is a credit to her resilience but it was as uncomfortable watching her hesitantly  negotiate – fully naked remember – the uneven snowy landscape of Act II, as it was to see her absurdly representing the Woodbird with talons and feathers stuck on her before being cuddled by Siegfried. In Act III we see Erda topless on high atop a voluminous skirt from which the singer giving voice to Erda in her confrontation with Wotan emerges. Please explain why young Erda looks as if she has come off the catwalk at a Paris fashion show and isn’t (half-)naked too? Those who were clothed were mostly unkempt in Victoria Behr’s eclectic ‘collection’ of jumble sale leftovers. The exceptions were the young Erda’s haute couture, Brünnhilde’s sky blue floral print dress and Fafner hobbling on sticks as something of a Dia de Muertos reveller in a spikey gold creation.

I could not fault the musical accompaniment from Conductor Laureate Sir Antonio Pappano and the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, at least as heard through the excellent sound system of the Chelmsford Theatre.  Pappano appeared to accept the idea of Siegfried being the scherzo of the Ring rather too literally at times. He seemed to whip through the score, ramp up the tension and emphasise dramatic intensity, whilst challenging his singers at times to keep up with his forward momentum (or so it seemed to me watching the broadcast).

As this Siegfried went on, I was longing more and more for an ‘ohne Worte’ version as it was spoilt for me by some of the singing. Although he was making his Covent Garden debut, I have heard Andreas Schager sing live several times, so I am not basing my criticism of his Siegfried simply on this performance heard through loudspeakers. Yes, I too can praise his stamina and the top notes he holds onto for some time (or shortens by cackling), but he does too little acting with his voice and relies much too much on continuous OTT physical movement including some risible dad dancing on one occasion. And those high notes? Well, too often they were just Schager shouting on pitch. He did prove he could bring some greater lyricism to Siegfried and sing lovelier than loud: that was during the melancholic and introspective moments in Act II when only then did he truly seem to bring this complex character to genuine life.

Peter Hoare’s Mime (aka Albert Steptoe) had a penchant for hitting himself over the head – protected by a German-style helmet – with the pieces of the swords he had failed to forge properly. There was a hint of cross-dressing with Hoare’s Mime; he suffered the indignities the oafish Siegfried put him through stoically and got his own back by appearing to urinate into the concoction he aimed to drug him with. Unfortunately, Hoare’s voice was more gruff than obsequious. As an extremely bitter Alberich (in voice and demeanour) Christopher Purves looked to have wandered into this Siegfried dressed in his black rehearsal clothes. Soloman Howard was the cavernous, menacing and amplified Fafner; Sarah Dufresne sounded enchanting as the offstage voice of the Woodbird (though the sights on the stage were less enchanting!); and Wiebke Lehmkuhl was suitably bewildered as the young Erda without the authority in her voice some bring to the role.

It takes even longer for Elisabet Strid’s Brünnhilde to appear in this production than in any other I have seen because – even to the cameras – she is concealed by all the flowers until after ‘Das ist kein Mann!’ and a hand then rose up though them. Strid’s voice was insecure and strident (!) to begin with but gained more radiance as her scene continued. Kosky has Brünnhilde gambolling with Siegfried amongst the flowers in the setting more appropriate to Tristan (Act II), Die Meistersinger (Festwiese) or Parsifal (Karfreitagszauber).

For me the best singing was from Christopher Maltman’s lank-haired, weather-beaten, dishevelled, crisp-munching Wanderer/Wotan defiantly railing against what fate has in store for the gods when all his cunning comes to nought. Maltman marries Michael Volle’s Lieder-like ability to communicate emotions directly through superior use of Wagner’s words while blatantly channelling a great, grizzled predecessor in the role, Sir John Tomlinson.

There is very little linking Kosky’s Das Rheingold (review here), Die Walkϋre (here) and now this extremely disappointing Siegfried apart from the old Erda’s reminiscences. It will be interesting what message, if any, Kosky has for us all as the end of the world as we know it arrives in Götterdämmerung next season.

Jim Pritchard

Featured Image: Elisabet Strid (Brünnhilde) in Act III © The Royal Opera/Monika Rittershaus

Creatives:
Director – Barrie Kosky
Set designer – Rufus Didwiszus
Costume designer – Victoria Behr
Lighting designer – Alessandro Carletti

Cast:
Siegfried – Andreas Schager
Mime – Peter Hoare
The Wanderer – Christopher Maltman
Brünnhilde – Elisabet Strid
Alberich – Christopher Purves
Fafner – Soloman Howard
Erda – Wiebke Lehmkuhl
Woodbird – Sarah Dufresne
Actor (Erda) – Illona Linthwaite