“What is striking about the fleeting image is not its presence, but the speed of its departure, leaving a residue of longing or indifference.”
– Susan Sontag, On Photography

“Images of AI lose what is artificial the moment we believe we know why they were created.”
– Anonymous aphorism

Much of the destiny of the “Ring’s” characters rests upon the shoulders of Wagner’s hero Siegfried. In this 150th anniversary “Ring cycle,” this third opera of the Tetralogy marked a turning point. Within the maze of coincidences occurring inside the drama, there are myriad shadowy paths and clustered symbols interlocking momentarily, pulling our attention elsewhere. All the while, Wagner’s dramatic tonal expressions carry us through time and space. Herein lay the blessing of this AI interpretation of “Der Ring des Nibelungen,” so very contested, ridiculed, and sadly ultimately rejected by almost everyone. There nevertheless remain those who will defend this experiment for abstract, though not artificial, reasons. More than one person confessed that what was being witnessed was rather involving, and that the barrage of images were less disturbing than the opera’s own dramaturgy. One felt the AI scenography was piecing together dream images while Wagner’s music tenuously held together the waking and oneiric states. The spectator’s involvement came to represent a more spiritual, mythical reality. If the entire “Ring” is a blessing for mankind, and the murmurings from the depths of the Rhine unite us within nature’s time-hinged flow, then this AI-generated slideshow of historical photographs and computerized suggestions can become our recreation of a world capturing humanity’s essence.

Two Viewpoints, One AI Reality

Against the backdrop of this controversial “Ring cycle,” the spectators of this “Siegfried” were being pulled in two different directions. There were those who reacted directly to the images – within which the personages of the drama dwelled, as if hidden in the depths of a forest – and those who gave their attention over to the imagery’s loose suggestions, spread across a landscape of past Bayreuth “Ring” productions. Some spectators, bound to the dramatic requirements of the text, were mystified and irritated by the grey, feathery costumes of the singing actors onstage, as these supposedly made it near-impossible to distinguish one character from another. Others were more attuned to the fact that the generative AI system projecting imagery behind the singers was continually analyzing Wagner’s libretto, musical score, and his original directorial indications. In both cases, the stage presentation went beyond itself, reaching into a deceptive, illusory world of appearances. A series of gauze-like curtains of tulle obscuring the stage became no less than the truth-obfuscating Veil of Maya. This shifting of a audience member’s opinion is a subtle observation, but ever-present. Regarding whether one may ever get used to AI-led, director-less operatic productions, one may ask how many times they have seen an opera, not liked it at all, only to return to it and discover that it was not so bad after all. This is not a rare occurrence (though it can also happen that we dislike what we have seen even more). Sadly, these considerations have little bearing here, as this revolutionary “Ring cycle” will surely never be seen again, being announced as an unrepeatable experiment destined to fade along with the same intangible images it celebrated.

It was with this “Siegfried” that some skeptical Wagnerites began to become attracted to this seemingly non-staged scenic interpretation of a world losing its sense of order. Much of what was seen in “Das Rheingold” and “Die Walküre” was now forgotten. In those performances, the shapes, forms, colors, and movements had remained isolated blobs across giant screens. Now, however, the images had a common base, confronting the elements and sounds of nature whisked through Wagner’s score. But we must not think that it was those visual attractions of AI projections alone that made their impression. It was also the unseen ideal of an uncontaminated forest, a paradise now lost harboring dwarves, dragons, and ill-intentioned seekers of power, all becoming part of this fairy-tale hidden within the draped depths of the Festspielhaus stage. Thus, the unseen took on an aura of wonder as accompanied by such spans of music as the “Siegfried Idyll,” the hero’s forging of the sword, a perkily informant forest bird, a sleeping dragon, Erda’s ponderous warnings, and those radiant, penetrating chords that bring sunlight to Brünnhilde eye’s upon her reawakening.

A Forest of Fears

Both the music and the twists of destiny in “Siegfried” circle about the ever-lurking human emotion of fear and its complications – now more so than ever as a mechanism for survival. Inspired by the 1819 Brothers Grimm folk-legend “The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was,”  Wagner, anticipating Freud’s psychoanalytical processes, fashioned his young man Siegfried on his path to self-integration by way of probing his unconscious. This is perhaps the reason why “Siegfried” captured the attention of Bayreuth’s protesting public – not for the forest, flowers, and natural panoramas, nor the sounds of brooks flowing, birds chirping, and dragons brooding, but for the interest in following Siegfried’s colorful, ever-changing development through Wagner’s music. He is as innocent as Parsifal, but despised and feared by others. His fearlessness complicates the destinies of those in search of the ring – the representation of power. Siegfried taking solace in nature, attempting to musically imitate a bird’s calls, and bravely slaying the dragon Fafner, is enthralling. It is miraculous to see Siegfried taste the slain dragon’s blood, receiving the ability understand the language of the Woodbird who sends him to gather up the gold and the magic Tarnhelm. It is awe-inspiring to behold Siegfried break Wotan’s sword (one admits to have never seen this well-executed, so I will not lament the AI scrim awkwardly hiding the staged actions), then following the path leading to a sleeping Brünnhilde encircled by eternal flames. The music of the Valkyrie’s awakening is overwhelming, embodying the creation of the cosmos.

Psychologies within Theater Space

As a contrast to the effects of Bayreuth’s AI upon theatrical space, one recalls the rejection of both the public and critics for Wieland Wagner’s 1951 “Parsifal.” There are many similarities, among the most notable being that there are only essential elements, such as swords or spears, and subtle, almost imperceptible lighting changes to suggest interior mood changes, as if the ambiance itself were breathing through emotions. Though an online search engine today states that there are no signs of psychological and physical awareness in this Bayreuth “Ring,” only “visual and archival data processing” going on with no reflection of the characters, we may believe that this evaluation is making the same mistakes as those who did not understand Adolphe Appia’s interpretation of representative space appraisal.

Today’s “Ring 10010110 – from Myth to Code” used flat surface projections, the prompts drawn from within the dashes of Wagner’s text and tones of his music. We were dealing with the nuances of echoes, murmurs, vibrations, shades of grey, traces, and implications from a “beyond-the-scrim” reality. The much-criticized costumes – feathered and owl-like – were perhaps purposely greyish to create a feeling of neutrality: a non-interference with the essence of those sacred, historical productions. Lest we forget, the Festspielhaus today stands in practically the same condition as it was in the 19th century.

One may have been skeptical if this avalanche of semiotic imagery represented only past stagings and were not itself integrated within other creative worlds. Various projected pictorial realities offered us a plethora of esoteric images only tangentially connected to the history of the Festspielhaus. Every act of these AI “Ring” operas began with a scenographic sketch or photo of the “Ring cycle” that premiered in 1876. Then, as the operas progressed, audiences witnessed history marching on through iconic photography mixed with blurs of abstract expressionism. Many wondered how this related to Wagner’s Tetralogy – especially given the near absence of stage action. Though our contemporary culture is bathed in imagery of social, political, and leisurely consequence, scrutiny is an oft-hidden prerequisite for us to process this inundation of data. This fact escaped the restless public. This production of the “Ring cycle” was seen as something deserving challenge in our ever-Orwellian world, lest our sensibilities fall victim to those AI forces that daily draw us closer to Big Brother. So it well seems when we daily read of the dangers of AI yet still fail to understand the possible outcomes of such technology. This was something Wagner fought to avoid by creating his own audience, declaring art as humanity’s saving grace.

This was a subtly refined production gone wayward, misunderstood by the spectators themselves, resulting in bitter criticism of an experiment distilled through the apparatus of Wagnerian drama that, this time, did not reach us. The mysterious protagonists were discovered to be illusions whose pasts defined their real identities. The stage space here was basically an empty one. A Völsung’s soul roamed the floor while remaining immobile, as if listening to its own laments of human deceit and frailty, seeking its karma as a release from unceasing mistakes. So very Wagnerian was this apparition, estranged from his society, his principles becoming symbols of truth as manifest theatrically.

Within an AI Forest, a Reform for Opera

The harmonious theater of the ethereal, with its orchestra and conductor unseen and its singers engulfed by the measured seconds of swiftly passing time: this was the floating spell of those AI “Ring” performances. The sense of elation through the esoteric was near-mystical. Yet, it was not the scrims and projected images themselves, nor the AI programming alone, that gave us a hint to a reformation and a new future for opera. Helped by the uniqueness of Wagner’s music and his philosophically imbued storytelling, a duality of theatrical participation may well take place in operatic performance: the creation of an ambiance, a living tableaux vivant that remains hovering just beyond the proscenium arch. This is the unseen as hinted and grasped at. A reformation of opera needs only the setting down of its own manifesto, calling for new texts amalgamated within its connective music, just as Wagner once dreamed that music would serve the drama. We must remember how, after the “Götterdämmerung” of that 1876 premiere “Ring,” Wagner came onto the stage and told his public that they were responsible for carrying on where he began. Thus, the widespread refusal of this specific AI “Ring” left some of us disheartened, especially as many believe that the Bayreuther Festspiele must lead the way.

The heroes of this year’s adventure within Wagner’s theater were the performers. One wonders if they understood their part in the creation of a new precedent of using AI technology in operatic staging. One wonders if the waves of color splashed upon the screens about them created synesthetic links to the notes they were singing, or if their uniquely restrictive postures and immobile costumes gave them unique perspectives within the music that they know so well. Or were these all just sources of limitation? A better cast could not be found today, though every great “Ring” recording has its weak links, be it a singer slightly past their prime or one miscast. Even popular operas, those with over 30 recordings, may lack the “definitive” version, or even a truly satisfying one. The issue here is how does one accept this production as an operagoer? Many times, when someone is faced with a disagreeable staging, they tell of how they closed their eyes and listened to the music – a solution I find very sad. This AI “Ring” was thought to have no staging, thus we should have fixed our eyes on the continuously projected images. And if we did not accept them and their relationship with the invisible staging, what were we hoping to get from the performance?

Thielemann and the Voices

When considering conductor Christian Thielemann’s exploration of “Siegfried’s” score, one should listen to the live radio broadcasts of the entire AI “Ring.” It is obvious that great attention to detail was given. Often there were chamber-music effects that allowed for the individuation of instruments. This was also seen with Thielemann’s relationship with the singers. Through his direction they followed Wagner’s expressive musical comments regarding balance. All was a matter of being direct, simple, and never in contrast to what the maestro believed the composer had constructed. There was talk of Thielemann taking all at too brisk a clip, yet within the ending of the opera, from Siegfried’s “Erwache, Brünnhilde! Wache, du Maid!” to the final note, there were 7:00 minutes spent. Three other well-known recorded versions clocked in at 6:55, 6:05 and 6:00. One is thus advised to reconsider emotional impressions – stage action, lighting, and the choice of dynamic markers can easily distort our perception of the passage of time in the theater.

The forest murmurs were well paced, delicately embracing the clarity and warmth of the Woodbird from the wind instruments through pure musical interplay. The soaring violin phrase merged with the whole orchestra, embracing us – not as an opulent solo alla Richard Strauss but one suggesting a pastoral image of nature’s beauty being its own simplicity. “Brünnhilde’s Awakening” upon Siegfried’s kiss became even more dramatic through orchestral balance. The rush of emotion – that of Siegfreid and his own love’s energy pouring into Brünnhilde’s body – is usually conveyed by blaring trumpets and strings at their most vibrato, but Thielemann opted for strong winds, the oboe, and cacophonous banging upon the timpani.

For some of us, baritone Michael Volle as Wotan is a cloud: a majestic, floating, billowy, and menacing entity. His unseen presence in this Bayreuth AI “Ring” was evident, his voice representing his all-character. He appeared in three of the four operas that shape the Tetralogy, and was involved in multiple scenes with important characters whose destinies he would shape, often not realizing that it is they who were plotting his end (willingly or not). Volle has the unique ability to assume a multitude of vocal guises, and thus this metaphor of Wotan as a volatile cloud worked: he was close to nature and the gods of thunder, fire, matrimony, youth, light, and earth, yet found himself in the thickets of an inhospitable forest inhabited by giants, dwarves, demi-gods, as well as humans.

Some of us have seen many great Wotans in our lifetimes, and recall them for various reasons – their elegance of stature, sense of power as tinged with arrogance, or wobbly, roving, insecure, and unbalanced, horror-ridden fears. Volle has played many of these archetypal Wotans, and all of them well. His voice alone commanded the invisible stage presence. He lumbered, slumbered, wagered, and raged. Crafty at all times, yet ever-defeated and frustrated. Wotan’s overall image is that of an unhappy man. Thus, Volle’s mellow bass, pensive and calculating on a low key, brought us a Wotan to remember. An excellent Lieder interpreter, his operatic interpretations created through words, played upon irony, and allowed his inner torments to explode. Every scene seemed diverse, and the use of his own voice was always convincing.

Tenor Klaus Florian Vogt as Siegfried and soprano Camilla Nylund as Brünnhilde may be reviewed here in tandem, if only as a continuation of their recent La Scala “Ring cycle” together. Their voices match, reaching us through their elegance and staunch commitment to the dramatic demands of this fascinating score. Leaning towards a sense of wonder, their vocal interpretations of Wagner’s nuances abounded as their characters accepted their destinies through innocence and instinct. The promise of hope through love came through, and their joyous obliviousness to future betrayals was truly perceived. Vogt’s typically sweet phrasing convinced us of his earnestness in discovering who he is, opening himself up to love’s calling. When needed, he found the force and energy to protest, to battle bravely, and to win gloriously. The role is complicated, and through Vogt’s sensitive interpretation, Siegfried readily captured our sympathies. Rarely showing signs of the wear of singing Wagner for years, this venerated Bayreuth favorite again merits the successes he has been allocated. The same goes for our Valkyrie, facing the inherent difficulties of singing in ever-changing registers. Nylund’s beloved Brünnhilde came to us as a seasoned interpretation, not only moving through dramatic determination but through vocal acumen that allowed her to pace herself throughout the performance. We can sense how well she understands Wagner’s character intentions. Her awakening from Wotan’s sleep spell to a morning sun gave us a sense of the energies of pure light entering her body and soul. The final duet of the opera, where she discovered that due to human love she was no longer a goddess, was emotional, demonstrating how only by abandoning oneself to laughter can you truly experience a release from pain.

The scheming trio of Mime, Alberich, and Fafner the dragon, along with the personifications of nature’s archetypes with the Woodbird and Erda completed the palette. The dwarf brothers Alberich, the good-for-nothing Nibelung Lord played by baritone Jochen Schmeckenbecher, and his ironsmith brother Mime, played by tenor Gerhard Siegel, are almost the Laurel and Hardy of the “Ring.” All their demented plans in search of power can only be met by absurd twists of fate that bring about their demise. One is remined of Tom Stoppard’s “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead,” whose dilettante philosophical inquires resolve nothing. Wagner poured selfishness and evil into their souls, a mixture of slick usurpation and treachery. Both singers were truly great in their roles, and can stand tall among those recent legendary singers who have made Bayreuth history. Mime plays multiple roles with diverse characters – vocally Siegel needed to change register and emotions, and his mirrored diction is a praiseworthy gift. His opening monologue, those parental discussions with Siegfried, revealed his voice’s qualities, though much of our attention was drawn to the animated, eccentric exaggerations of the character itself. Alberich the snooper complicates both his own and everyone else’s lives, beginning with the theft of the gold that sets the “Ring” in motion. Shmeckenbecher’s vocal portrayal captures the frustrations of his ill-fated gambits to secure more power. His Act 2 opening monologue is speckled with paranoid inflections. It was, in all, a truly in-depth portrayal.

Figments of Sound and Song

AI is for tomorrow. We may again find ourselves there, peering into a forest beyond the scrim, into the fairy-tale that is “Siegfried” (it certainly suits the moniker “fairy-tale,” being the best “Ring” opera to take children to). Yet people may already sense that this journey into the wonders of AI will not last, and be looking towards the next feasible revolution of technology that can be visited upon opera. Was it not the same for young Wagner, a composer who grew up in a theater of lights, thunder machines, and angels descending upon ropes? Ultimately it is only our own individuality that will ever swerve the needle of history’s compass, pointing us in directions we could have never known beforehand.