Siegfried, Royal Opera House

★★★★

First performed in 1876 as part of Wagner’s monumental 'Ring' cycle, Siegfried has often been seen as the most elusive of the four operas, sprawling, talkative and dramatically uneven. Yet in Barrie Kosky’s latest instalment at the Royal Opera House, it feels anything but. This is a production that rethinks the piece from the inside out, replacing mythic distance with something far more human, strange and compelling.

Kosky’s boldest idea is to place Erda, the earth goddess, at the centre of everything. Played silently by Illona Linthwaite, she is almost constantly on stage, watching, reacting, quietly shaping events. It’s an arresting image, an elderly, naked figure moving through this vast story like a living memory of the earth itself. It could feel gimmicky, but here it becomes the emotional anchor of the whole evening, giving the opera a sense of unity it often lacks.

Visually, the production is striking and full of invention. Rufus Didwiszus’s sets shift from Mime’s precarious treehouse to a stark, snow covered wasteland and finally to a lush, flower filled meadow. None of it is literal, but it all feels purposeful. The imagery is often surprising, a streetlamp in a frozen forest, a dragon suggested through costume rather than machinery, yet it always serves the story. The moment when Brünnhilde awakens in that glowing meadow is one of the evening’s true magic moments, quietly beautiful and deeply affecting.

Musically, this is as strong as it gets. Antonio Pappano draws extraordinary playing from the Royal Opera orchestra, revealing the full range of Wagner’s score, from dark, brooding textures to moments of real lightness and lyricism. The balance between pit and stage is masterfully judged, allowing both singers and orchestra to shine.

At the centre is Andreas Schager’s Siegfried, a tireless and thrilling presence. His tenor cuts through the orchestra with ease, bright and fearless, capturing the character’s raw energy even if emotional nuance sometimes takes a back seat. Christopher Maltman’s Wotan is superb, worn, intelligent, and vocally rich, bringing a sense of quiet authority to every scene. Peter Hoare’s Mime is both unsettling and oddly sympathetic, his storytelling in Act 1 gripping and painfully human. Elisabet Strid’s Brünnhilde brings warmth and radiance to the final act, her awakening handled with real sensitivity.

What impresses most is the production’s confidence. It takes risks, some don’t fully land, but it never feels uncertain. It is original, detailed and theatrically alive, with a clear vision running through every element. This is not quite a flawless Siegfried, but it is a deeply intelligent and often exhilarating one.

Image credit: Monika Rittershaus, The Royal Opera