Even during his glory days there were many people who felt that Herbert von Karajan had no business staging operas, and that his gifts should remain podium-bound. This film of Das Rheingold, made in 1978 from a soundtrack that was laid down in 1973, proves that point.
It begins with the best late-’70s technological intentions, with smoke, underwater filming, and the Rhinemaidens seemingly swimming. Sadly, a minute or three later we see wet-looking formations that are presumably underwater caverns that are too brightly lit, among which Alberich limps and gropes. Once out of the Rhine, it’s just tacky–piles of rocks, a diorama of a sky, and close-ups of the singers in stage make-up. Wotan is perfectly coiffed with wing-like sides; the Nibelungs are children, dwarfs, or rubber dolls (or a variety thereof) and have terrible teeth. In short, it’s like a 1950s or ’60s TV idea of a desolate planet or prehistory, but in garish color and with no flora. It’s pretty ghastly.
As for the acting, Thomas Stewart as Wotan is oddly impassive–not so much vocally as physically–and the others, save for Brigitte Fassbaender’s good-looking Fricka and Peter Schreier’s red-leather-clad, sneaky Loge, don’t do much but move from here to there. Erda appears in smoke, superimposed over the scene: look carefully and you realize that Wotan and the others have been reduced to a big still photograph used as a backdrop. It’s startlingly unsophisticated and not funny enough for camp. I had at least hoped for a fake-looking Rainbow Bridge, but by that point in the opera Karajan clearly had given up trying. Throughout, the lip-synching is pretty approximate, especially for the characters that are acted by people other than the singers who originally recorded them, who for one reason or another could not make it for the filming five years later.
As mentioned, Thomas Stewart’s Wotan is vocally impressive but oddly bland. Zoltan Kelemen almost steals the show as Alberich, articulating his music and text with fire and nastiness and acting with concentration and without too much exaggeration. Gerhard Stolze’s familiar Mime is actually less ghastly than usual and Leif Roar sings Donner well. Fassbaender does what she can, but she looks as if she can’t wait to leave this uncomfortable situation; her singing and reading of the part are expert. Jeannine Altmeyer is a gorgeous, sincere Freia; we can understand the giants’ obsession with her. Karl Riddersbusch’s Fasolt is wonderfully big and smooth, but both giants–a fine Louis Hendrikx as Fafner–look ridiculous. Birgit Finnila is a light-sounding Erda, and Martha Mödl, retired as a singer, takes her place physically, all shrouded in fog.
Those familiar with Karajan’s approach to the Ring will find no surprises (pleasant or unpleasant) here. Everything sounds beautiful but slightly too gentle, and the orchestra is recessed in favor of the voices. The interpersonal aspects of the opera are well-served, but you’d never believe that some pretty vicious politicking was going on. I’ll certainly never watch this again, and if I want a Karajan Rheingold, they’re available elsewhere. He had planned to film an entire Ring. It is easy to see why the project was canceled. [4/23/2008]
