Staatsoper Unter den Linden, Berlin, 27 September 2025

Richard Wagner: Das Rheingold

Wherever Christian Thielemann conducts Wagner, tickets sell out instantly. The two revived Ring cycles at the Berlin State Opera have long been completely sold out, apart from a few very expensive remaining seats at over 200 euros.

At the premiere in October 2022, when Thielemann stepped in for Daniel Barenboim at short notice, rehearsal time was limited — yet the result was already remarkable.

Of course, every production grows with each additional rehearsal. And with every new performance, it becomes clearer that the Staatskapelle Berlin hasn’t sounded this good in 30 years, now under Thielemann’s baton.

In Wagner performances before his tenure, the orchestra often sounded heavy and rough, especially in loud passages — enough that many blamed the house’s acoustics. But it is now becoming clear that the hall, despite being smaller, is no worse than the Deutsche Oper Berlin. It simply requires ideal use — and cannot handle the hard-edged fortes and fortissimos that Barenboim so often demanded.

In the recent revival of Das Rheingold, one could hear how carefully Thielemann shaped the dynamic gradations, holding back rather than expending all his firepower on the first evening. Even in moments that invite drama — the giants’ entrance, Fafner’s murder of Fasolt, or the gods’ final entry into Valhalla — Thielemann, with the full cycle in mind, still held back extreme climaxes. After all, the later dramas, up to Siegfried’s death and Brünnhilde’s Immolation scene, still need room to grow.

Dmitri Tcherniakov’s staging, set in a large research center, includes some bizarre scenes at odds with Wagner’s libretto. Yet with its many conventionally furnished rooms — not unlike those in other modern productions — it gives the singers space to inhabit their roles through the music.

Only Jochen Schmeckenbecher, in top vocal form, drew the short straw: tasked with opening the opera in a stress laboratory, surrounded by white-clad medical assistants cast as Rhinemaidens, with gold and river seemingly visible only through a virtual headset.

And since in this production there is no gold, no stage magic, and Alberich transforms neither into a terrifying serpent nor into a toad under the Tarnhelm, hardly anyone is likely to have attended for the staging. I am, however, grateful that after pressure from animal-rights activists, real rabbits and guinea pigs are no longer kept in cramped cages as once required by Tcherniakov’s setting — now replaced, fortunately, by props.

The true magnets of this production remain Christian Thielemann and the excellent ensemble.

This time, it seemed as if the conductor allowed even more time for the opening sixteen bars — the low E-flat unison in double basses and bassoons — than in earlier performances. In that sound, from which everything begins in silence before movement enters the score, there lay a breathtaking calm I had never experienced before. It felt like eight whole minutes. Perhaps it was even more palpable this time because no one in the hall coughed. The calm continued as the sound gradually unfolded, with horns managing their difficult entries impressively, until the strings joined in faster, wave-like motion.

Throughout, one could again observe how Thielemann reins in the orchestra so singers can sing softly where the score requires it — and still be heard, even when their projection is modest.

This was especially crucial for the young Sonja Herranen from the Opera Studio (in the role of Freia) and for Sebastian Kohlhepp. Discovered by Thielemann years ago and acclaimed as Matteo in Strauss’s Arabella, Kohlhepp sang Loge with poise and refinement, but with a relatively small, light voice. Without Thielemann’s hypersensitive ear, he might easily have been drowned out — especially against the predominantly large voices of his colleagues.

The role of Wotan could hardly have been better cast than with Michael Volle. With powerful volume, elegant and supple phrasing, beautiful timbre, and excellent diction, he stood at the height of his art. In every register his voice rang with pure sonority, and dramatically he embodied the increasingly tormented ruler who, from his rich spoils, must give the ring — the very symbol of world power — to the giants in order to free his sister-in-law.

Another outstanding performance came from Hungarian mezzo Anna Kissjudit as Erda, with her warm, large, rounded voice — a major gain for the ensemble, to which she has belonged since the 2022/23 season.

Claudia Mahnke (Fricka), Stephan Rügamer (Mime), and the giant basses Mika Kares (Fasolt) and Peter Rose (Fafner) — all experienced in their roles, if not always vocally flawless across every register — confirmed themselves once again as strong, convincing singer-actors.

All in all, this was a brilliant start to the cycle, helping draw more visitors from abroad. In the audience, which greeted conductor, ensemble, and orchestra with thunderous ovations, many languages could be heard. Among the numerous Thielemann devotees, many had traveled a long way.