Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, opera review: A so-so journey to a stunning conclusion

Kasper Holten final production as the ROH's director of opera isn't one for the ages, says Barry Millington
Lacking inspiration: Rachel Willis-Sorenson as Eva and Bryn Terfel as Hans Sachs
Clive Barda
Barry Millington14 March 2017

Kasper Holten’s staging of Wagner’s Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, his final production as Covent Garden’s director of opera, promisingly represents the Masters as members of a misogynistic modern-day club, cloaked in preposterous regalia the better to preserve their privileged way of life. Eva (sung with spirit rather than tenderness by Rachel Willis-Sorensen) is here an admirably feisty, independent-minded character (the clues are in the work) who in a stunning denouement (best left unrevealed) questions the capitulation of her lover Walther to the blandishments of tradition.

Gwyn Hughes Jones’s decent account of Walther struggles to gain our sympathy with his uningratiating, anti-heroic stage presence: no dashing young aristocrat but a balding biker with black hair slicked back. Eva begins her crucial scene with the father-figure Hans Sachs she might have married in angry mood but ends kissing him on the mouth. Much more is needed to trace the trajectory of their emotions here. Bryn Terfel shows himself once again a subtle, expressive Sachs, gathering power and momentum in his final monologue. He’s almost outshone, though, for vocal weight and authority, by Stephen Milling’s Pogner. Beckmesser (the excellent Johannes Martin Kränzle), stripped humiliatingly of his robes, is movingly consoled only by Eva.

Antonio Pappano conducts superbly, drawing out wind solos exquisitely, binding swirling contrapuntal strands into vibrant textures.

Mia Stensgaard’s set economically evokes the gentleman’s club but is topographically unconvincing in Act 2; it turns slowly in Act 3 to reveal a theatrical space for the song contest.

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1/6

Not even Holten can relieve the tedium of David’s recitation of the Tones (no fault of Allan Clayton, who injects commendable enthusiasm) and inspiration is lacking elsewhere for long stretches. Eva’s self-liberation in the final moments from the shackles of phallocentric tradition is a real coup de théâtre. If only the rest had been on this level.

Until Mar 31, Royal Opera House; roh.org.uk