(Photo: © Royal Swedish Opera)

On March 29, the Royal Swedish Opera performed Wagner’s second opera, “Die Walküre,” from the four-opera epic, “Der Ring des Nibelungen.”

Mixing interiors, epochs, and styles, the evening’s production featured (surprisingly sterile) 16th to 17th century Medieval great hall interiors for the first half and 18th to 19th century French fine art lined salon-meets 18th century Victorian and/or late 19th century French equestrian attire for the second. I am reminded of what firebrand Lacanian-Hegelian philosopher Slavoj Žižek wrote about the Ring Cycle’s embodiment of two deaths. The first being the mortal ending of the human body. The second is the death of a notion of life after death, that one shall live forever after a final death on the human plane. By radically embracing the inevitability of that second death, life can be lived by seeing the truth, that unavoidable yet so very peaceful promise of entropy.

That second death, “the will to abolish the indestructible palpitation of life beyond death” as to “avoid the fate of an undead monster,” was supposed to be the subtextual theme of the evening, the futile escape from mortal death and post-mortal death and yet, despite the untouchable vocal excellence, this was barely detectable, if there at all in any of the many people from the house’s artistic staff. Led by director Staffan Valdemar Holm, the same director for the Royal Swedish Opera’s 2008 and 2017 cycles, judging the available information showing that Saturday afternoon was the same it has been for the last 17 years, not even a costume change!

I start this review with said information as the Royal Swedish Opera is not a stranger nor new to the Cycle, the first occurring way back in the early-20th century (1901-1907), with two more cycles occurring in the 20th century, the first from 1968 to 1970 whilst the second occurring from 2005 to 2007. Why does this matter? It matters because no risks were taken when it came to the presentation leading to the afternoon having been a wonderful auditory, but unfortunately conventional visual, experience. Further, it cannot be understated how important “Die Walküre” is to the Royal Swedish Opera outside of its Cycle context. In many respects, this opera is one of their crown jewels. 

In 1955, the illustrious Birgit Nilsson gave her first ever Brünnhilde in the first ever German-language production of the opera at the house, 60 years after the first ever presentation of the opera at the Royal Swedish Opera itself in 1895. The point is, why did the Royal Swedish Opera not do something different? Why was the same production rolled out after its latest performance in 2021? It is easy for me, however, to simply request a new production but in light of Finland’s ground-breaking 2022 production, or Gothenburg’s topical 2018-21 production, or even the expectation of Norway’s cycle next year, why did the house play it safe under a director who, although clearly knows what they are doing, did not decide to take any risks in his elongated tenure?

Enough on the background. The afternoon, no matter how predictable, was hallmarked by the operatic presence of what can only be described as contemporary Wagnerian royalty. Sporting an almost all-Swedish cast, the afternoon was full of 14 masterful Wagnerians doing what they know best with repertoire seemingly tailor made for each of them. From Siegmund (Michael Weinius) and Sieglinde (Marita Sølberg), to Brünnhilde (Ingela Brimberg), Fricka (Katarina Leoson), and the nine Valkyries (Angela Rotondo, Anneli Jupither, Henriikka Gröndahl, Miriam Treichl, Marie-Louise Granström, Matilda Paulsson, Karolina Blixt, Kristina Martling), every vocal inch of the afternoon was operatic gold. If you noticed the absence of Wotan, that’s because he was replaced by Simon Bailey a short-term stand-in for John Lundgren who was predisposed with illness. Yet, despite the short notice, Bailey delivered a sensational performance full of expressive dimensionality and comfortable reactiveness to the world around him. 

Across the board, the singing was comparable to that of Golden Age and post-Golden Age productions like the great 1976 Jahrhundertring recording featuring the great Gwyneth Jones and Donald McIntyre. This, of course, is no surprise given the outcomes of Swedish operatic training which have produced singers like Jussi Bjorling, Jenny Lind, Caroline Müller, Julius Günther, and, most particularly, Ingvar Wixell. Thus, it is entirely within the Royal Swedish Opera’s long legacy that their productions are nothing but the highest quality concerning vocal ability and whose standards have not even slightly diminished as has been the fate of other houses in the very recent past. Now, when it comes to the meat and potatoes of the performance, that is the set design, costuming, lighting, and special effects, there were some great wins and some great losses. Particular congratulations goes to those who did not receive a bow that afternoon, namely Torben Lendorph who produced the performance’s main strength, light and sound effects for a generally empty stage of rather mundane, ordinary even, set pieces which lacked ornamentation, color, patterns, anything to give it life or energy.

While the Act two opening was by far the most dramatic moment of the entire opera, translucent yet paradoxically thick smoke remained suspended in the upper foreground whilst the Valkyries descended onto us, it was the innovative usage of screens and moving images that really saved the production from a fate of being a recording with some visuals on the side. During Act one, by far one of the slowest acts in the entire Ring cycle as a whole, above the refractory table in the great hall, whose interior was linked with stored plates and entirely dreary in color scheme, just outside the transom windows was the untouched forest. As brother and sister grew closer and closer, the forest panned up and turned into a pale moon amidst the blissful night sky, and as the moon beams poured into the hall, it really felt as if we had left reality and entered that intimate moment with them.

During the Act two revelries, screens were again used but this time in the middle of five rectangular columns with scenes of horses running across an open battlefield. At the opera’s conclusion, the screens were turned into columns of fire as Brünnhilde was wrapped in flames. A strong contribution to a rather odd combination of ecstatic vocalisms, underwhelming dramaturgical expression, unoffensive costuming, and drab scenes, Holm’s seemingly zombie production is just not enough to be a significant contribution to a landscape of successes like Deutsche Oper Berlin’s 2024 cycle, Teatro alla Scala’s 2024 “Das Rheingold,” and Opera Australia’s amazing 2023 cycle. 

It’s worth repeating that each and every one of the singers was perfect, save some minor moments in the first act when Lennart Forsén (Hunding) fell relatively flat in some places. Nevermind those moments, however, as he made up for it in expression and presence, and as Act one went on, it became clear that Weinius and Sølberg were no ordinary Wagnerians but paradigmatic expressions of the Wagnerian quality itself. As Act two went on and the full cast of characters revealed themselves, it was all together apparent sophisticated gestures, performative authenticity, and unrestricted expressivity flowed freely throughout the 14-person cast. By far, in terms of dramaturgic integrity, Act two was far superior to Act three if only because of Sølberg and Bailey’s relational chemistry which blossomed in palpability as filial love turned into wrath. Additionally, the Valkyries were a phenomenal masterclass in cohesive individuality, or, how to be individuals while at the same time retaining your expressive integrity as a singing actor.

Regarding Holm’s “Walkürenritt,” I remain steadfast in the argument that Holm’s entire concept of the The Ring is neither adventurous nor daring, neither the worst but far from among the best planet Earth has to offer. In Act three, this was on full display as, despite Holm’s appreciable understanding of Wagner’s musical gestures, this was far from reflected in what occurred on stage. Made chaotic on the one hand with (undead) male warriors going to and fro, simplistic choreography which failed to capitalize on Wagner’s expressive language on the other, and a dissappointly empty set slightly salvaged with gauzy atmospherics on the third, it was expected and surprising for a production ostensibly praised. The singing was sublime, however, and this is the issue with the performance as a whole. Visually, there was considerable lack but not vocally, and while refreshing, opera is not just a vocal performance with some theatric additions. As Wagner said in his 1849 essay, The Art-Work of the Future, written five years before beginning to draft “Die Walküre,” the “true drama” is when,

“each…art can only bare its utmost secret to their common public through a mutual parleying with the other arts…reciprocal agreement and co−operation of all the branches in their common message.” 

While knowledgable, Holm’s “Walküre” was very far away from a true expression of Wagner’s ideations where “the three sister−arts [dance, tone, poetry] unite their forces in one collective operation, in which the highest faculty of each comes to its highest unfolding.” That by no means the performance was bereft of vital life but rather that the Wagnerian dynamic empowered by the law, “not one rich faculty of the separate arts will remain unused” was not as respected as it ought to have been. Productions given at the Royal Swedish Opera seem plagued by an issue of general inconsistency in directorial competency.

From Magdalena Åberg’s minimalistic “La Traviata” in 2024 which was a rather dismal attempt at recapturing the global popularity of Willy Decker’s 2005 success at the Salzburg Festival to the success that was Kirsten Harms’ 2023 “Madame Butterfly,” the house is not quite able to find pacing that works. Moreover, they seem unable to find directors who are willing to try something new and push the house outside of its comfort zone. The recent displays of ability with Annilese Miskimmon’s “Jenůfa” was still a far more conservative and emphatically safe version of more bold productions like Claus Guth’s 2024 version where, unlike with Åberg, minimalism was pathologized instead of it being the result of limited perspective. Further still is the fact that outside of the Royal Swedish Opera, inventive performances are being held, the Folkoperan performing Verdi’s “Don Carlo” with exceptional results. 

The point here is that the Royal Swedish Opera, at least as presented in their 2025 “Die Walküre,” really failed to give a reason to keep going to the house save the dominance of their vocal calibre. All in all, the house is extremely safe and really never goes the extra mile to make their performances that notable, again with moment-by-moment exceptions. If one is looking for an operatic fix, the Royal Swedish Opera is where you want to go. But if you’re looking for innovation, then one must look elsewhere and luckily, Stockholm has many other options. But isn’t that the issue? We should not have to look elsewhere for innovation and contemporary experimentalism.