TV REVIEW : The Met ‘Ring’: A Mighty Kitschy Miniseries

Don’t swallow all that hype. Television has suddenly invented neither the wheel nor the “Ring.”

The Metropolitan Opera broadcast of Richard Wagner’s mighty, massive, sprawling, swollen, poignant, exasperating, uplifting tetralogy, “Der Ring des Nibelungen,” which begins tonight on local PBS stations, is a milestone neither for mankind nor for TV.

We have seen it all before. And we have seen it in a more compelling version.

A decade ago, PBS traveled to Bayreuth to document Patrice Chereau’s provocative, even revolutionary staging of the daunting cycle. This was a modern production that actually took the drama seriously. Chereau cared and dared to explore the sociopolitical implications of the epic as well as the obvious mythological convolutions.

The Bayreuth “Ring” was filmed under studio conditions, not at actual stage performances. It was shown in this country with weeks separating each installment. Still, a hundred years after the premiere, it did offer home viewers a vital demonstration of Wagner’s unique prowess as composer and dramatist.

The Met “Ring,” though taped, can claim the dubious advantage of documenting “live” performances. The Met “Ring” can claim the definite, domestically unprecedented, advantage of presentation on four consecutive nights. Still, it looks like a stylistic step into the dark operatic ages.

The production, staged by Otto Schenk and designed by Gunther Schneider-Siemssen, is dull and lazy. It represents a fairy-tale trivialization of the momentous plot. At best, it is picturesque and quaint. At worst it is silly.

Forget the ageless, timeless discourse on greed, the corruption of power and the redemption of love. Here is a naive charade in which overworked singers must carry spears, sport funny helmets and endure caricature breastplates while emitting lusty noises.

It is possible--unlikely, but possible--that a Spielberg or a Disney could make the “Ring” magical for contemporary audiences on its own literal terms. The magic here, alas, harks back to hoary cliches perpetuated by provincial German opera houses in the 1920s.

Brian Large, the television director, unwittingly accentuates the negative with close-ups that expose too much smoke, greasepaint and scenic fakery. Even worse, he often trains his cameras at the wrong face or place at a crucial moment. Adding verbal insult to visual injury, the clumsy English subtitles occasionally distort intended meanings (“Wo weilst du, Wotan. . . ?”).

If this 17-hour, four-night mini-series has a hero, it must be the Met orchestra. The virtuoso ensemble dazzles consistently under James Levine’s knowing, sometimes ponderous, often majestic leadership.

The cast is patently uneven. Nevertheless, it adheres for the most part to the best current standards.

James Morris is splendidly mellifluous if unincisive as Wotan. Hildegard Behrens offers much emotional, little vocal force as Brunnhilde. Though he fakes some top notes and runs out of steam near the end of the climactic love duet, Siegfried Jerusalem introduces an extraordinarily intelligent, imposing Siegfried, brilliantly offset by the Mime of Heinz Zednik (a Chereau alumnus).

The ever-heroic Jessye Norman plays an ungainly Sieglinde to the bear-like Siegmund of Gary Lakes. Christa Ludwig, though past her prime, remains a sympathetic Fricka. The lower depths are well staffed by Ekkehard Wlaschiha’s straightforward Alberich, Jan-Hendrik Rootering’s sad and sonorous Fasolt, Matti Salminen’s fierce Fafner and Kurt Moll’s formidable Hunding.

“Gotterdammering” was not available for advance screening. Performances seen at Lincoln Center last year suggest, however, that the denouement will contain no surprises.

This “Ring” is worth seeing, kitschy flaws and all. Any project of such magnitude is worth seeing. Still, it remains a “Ring” better heard than seen.