Everyone gathered around their televisions at the same time to get the answers. And then, because the majority were doing the same thing at the same time, everyone would be talking about it the next day at work or school. Building community. Today, the media we consume tends to divide us. Back then, it brought us together.
I start here because that community-building world of shared experience is the best metaphor I can come up with to describe what it’s actually like to watch a Ring Cycle.
We are just back from a week in the Cotswolds consuming Wagner’s epic Der Ring des Nibelungen. I will leave it to the professionals to review the actual performances. (The production is earning universal adulation, especially for Paul Carey Jones’ Wotan and Lee Bisset’s Brünnhilde, pictured right.) I thought it would be more useful to write about what it’s actually like to attend opera’s most famous marathon.
It’s a lot easier, less stuffy, and far closer to other forms of popular entertainment than you might imagine.
Wagner suffers from an undeservedly negative reputation. If most people know him at all, it’s for parodies of shrieking, fat sopranos, an unfortunate stint as the Nazis’ favourite composer, or for one of The Ring's tune’s repeated deployments as a soundtrack to brutal combat. (The Ride of the Valkyries, set within its original context, is so much more interesting than those derivative uses.) What those who listen to him for any length of time realise is that he’s a composer of immense emotion, beauty and action.
If you enjoy the sweeping, romantic film scores of John Williams, Hans Zimmer or Ennio Morricone, you already like Wagner. Because he’s the guy who pretty much invented what they do, telling stories through the music and giving particular characters themes … he called them leitmotifs … that are a musical shout out to “look at me” when a particular character is doing something important.
If you’re the kind of person who likes grand, multi-generational sagas and has found yourself binge-watching Succession, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, the Harry Potter films or Game of Thrones, you already like Wagner. In the hands of a great director (and Amy Lane, who’s been working on this for nine years of her life, is certainly that) The Ring is a binge-watchable epic that explores greed, love, ambition and tricky relationships within dysfunctional families. This is the stuff that keeps the streamers in business. The Ring just does it to music.
Yes, there are some issues with the plot. Avid haters of the fantasy genre may dislike the numbers of magical creatures and Norse gods on stage. There’s a small but important bit of incest that makes everyone uncomfortable. Most female viewers are frustrated by how one of drama’s greatest heroines can fall head over heels for a thick, self-obsessed lug of a hero and completely loose her mojo for a couple of acts. Thankfully, she rediscovers herself and drives the plot to a thrilling conclusion. She’s so central to the plot arc, in fact, the cycle could have been called The Brünnhilde rather than The Ring. Those plot issues fade to minor irritations, however, within the opulent big picture.
You’re committing to four operas, stretching across about 15 hours of performance time, in one week. The first one, Das Rheingold, is just under two hours and is generally performed without an intermission. The rest … Die Walküre, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung … run between three and four hours each and usually have two intermissions. Performances are generally held every other day to give both the audience, and most importantly the singers, some time to rest. Delivering Wagner’s demanding, powerful scores is hard work, and a specialism restricted to a subset of opera singers.
It would be possible to work through the week, taking some afternoons off for early starts of the weekday performances. But that's something you're probably more likely to do if it's being performed in a city where you live and work. Because Longborough is in the rural idyl of the Cotswolds, 90 minutes from home, we decided to take the week off and enjoy the delights of the area outside of the performances.
A half-hour break between parts one and two gives you time to finish that fizz and have your starter. The main dining interval is between parts two and three, which generally starts between 6 pm and 7 pm, and runs for 90 minutes. This gives you time for a leisurely main course and dessert, plus the opportunity to use the loos and stretch your legs with a stroll around the gardens. Performances tend to end just just after 9pm, when the Cotswolds hills are bathed with golden twilight. You can hang around the grounds for a nightcap, but with such a small audience traffic moves quickly and we were back in Stow by 9:30. In time to catch the magnificent sunset on the longest day of the year.
Four performances gives you a chance to mix up those picnics. We started with a German-themed spread of sausages, cheese, and dark, seeded bread to honour the national origins of the story and composer. Other nights featured roast chicken and a particularly delicious roasted-then-chilled salmon with an Asian glaze. In past years I’ve cooked up al fresco delicacies for opera picnics, but having to assemble four of them in a week skews you towards the store-bought. Luckily, Stow is home to D’Ambrosi, an upscale deli and caterer who will assemble a basket of delights for you with no effort beyond waving your card in front of their reader. There are two restaurant options on site if you don’t want to do your own thing, but you have to book them when you buy your tickets as space is very limited.
These dining breaks transform the overall experience. Fifteen hours of continuous opera does indeed sound like a marathon to be endured rather than enjoyed. Spreading that over a week, when you’re never in the opera for longer than the run of a typical film, and intersperse it with an equivalent amount of time swanning about country house grounds in formal wear eating and drinking nice things, and you have a very different thing.
Four performances also gives you a chance to mix up your operatic outfits. Longborough is not as formal as Glyndebourne, the grandfather of all country house opera, and its web site emphasises coming in something that is celebratory and comfortable for you. For at least 60 percent of the crowd that’s still dinner jackets (tuxedos) for the men and the equivalent for the women. But we saw lots of variety. A subset of men went for magnificently patterned jackets from luxurious … often oriental … materials that brought a touch of Oscar Wilde to proceedings. (Wagner and Wilde were contemporaries, so that's rather appropriate.)
These dining breaks transform the overall experience. Fifteen hours of continuous opera does indeed sound like a marathon to be endured rather than enjoyed. Spreading that over a week, when you’re never in the opera for longer than the run of a typical film, and intersperse it with an equivalent amount of time swanning about country house grounds in formal wear eating and drinking nice things, and you have a very different thing.
Some alternated velvet smoking jackets with traditional black DJs. Long, embroidered or dyed silk jackets over neutral bases were a go-to for the women, with a few turning up in some fabulous ball gowns. If you like getting dressed up, a Ring Cycle is a tremendous excuse to take a circuit through your whole formal wardrobe in a week.
Longborough’s sartorial flexibility meant that we went for a Bavarian interpretation of formal wear for opening night, fitting for an opera cycle with its heart in that part of Germany. It was such a hit with fellow guests we decided to bring it back for closing night as well.
Opening night, however, was not as planned. We’d popped out to the grocers to pick up a few things for our picnic and returned to discover that our 12-year old spaniel had climbed onto a table, snatched the slide of his heart medicine and consumed 10 days’ dosage at one go. On a Sunday, when almost all vets are closed. A call to our own vets' emergency service confirmed this was a life-threatening emergency; the longer the drugs were in his system, the more danger he was in. So instead of getting dressed and swanning off to watch some Rhine maidens get their gold stolen, I was desperately searching for a vet open on a Sunday, driving an hour to get there, then holding a bowl while my beloved but stupid dog emptied his stomach multiple times, triggered to do so my special drugs. I’ve had better afternoons. The dog recovered quickly, though his little adventure added a significant expense to our holiday. We found a version of Das Rheingold on YouTube, spread our picnic on the coffee table and enjoyed an alternative kickoff to our Cycle. The dirndl and lederhosen made their debut for Die Walküre two nights later.
The opera house at Longborough holds just 500, and for a Ring Cycle it’s the same people in the same seats for every performance. If you’ve reserved a dining spot, the people at your neighbouring tables will also be the same all four days. With only 500 in total, you start recognising people in Stow during the week and feel like you know most attendees on sight by the final performance. This all adds to that communal viewing experience, because you’re sharing opinions about the performance throughout the week. The further in you go, the deeper the conversations get.
If this weren’t enough community building, Longborough put on additional events on the off days to for those who wanted to learn more about the production. Back to the binge-watching analogy … these were like tapping into the extra features on the director’s cut DVD. On Friday we attended two lectures in Longborough’s parish church. The first was a Master Class in which two singers who played smaller roles were performing bits and pieces and getting coaching from Rachel Nicholls, who played Brünnhilde the first time Longborough did The Ring. Underlining the intimate nature of this opera festival, current Brünnhilde, Lee Bisset, was sitting in the pew behind us and happily chatting to audience members. I don’t think I’d be able to get out of bed the day after delivering a performance of such power, much less enjoy chatting with strangers.
Longborough’s sartorial flexibility meant that we went for a Bavarian interpretation of formal wear for opening night, fitting for an opera cycle with its heart in that part of Germany. It was such a hit with fellow guests we decided to bring it back for closing night as well.
Opening night, however, was not as planned. We’d popped out to the grocers to pick up a few things for our picnic and returned to discover that our 12-year old spaniel had climbed onto a table, snatched the slide of his heart medicine and consumed 10 days’ dosage at one go. On a Sunday, when almost all vets are closed. A call to our own vets' emergency service confirmed this was a life-threatening emergency; the longer the drugs were in his system, the more danger he was in. So instead of getting dressed and swanning off to watch some Rhine maidens get their gold stolen, I was desperately searching for a vet open on a Sunday, driving an hour to get there, then holding a bowl while my beloved but stupid dog emptied his stomach multiple times, triggered to do so my special drugs. I’ve had better afternoons. The dog recovered quickly, though his little adventure added a significant expense to our holiday. We found a version of Das Rheingold on YouTube, spread our picnic on the coffee table and enjoyed an alternative kickoff to our Cycle. The dirndl and lederhosen made their debut for Die Walküre two nights later.
The opera house at Longborough holds just 500, and for a Ring Cycle it’s the same people in the same seats for every performance. If you’ve reserved a dining spot, the people at your neighbouring tables will also be the same all four days. With only 500 in total, you start recognising people in Stow during the week and feel like you know most attendees on sight by the final performance. This all adds to that communal viewing experience, because you’re sharing opinions about the performance throughout the week. The further in you go, the deeper the conversations get.
If this weren’t enough community building, Longborough put on additional events on the off days to for those who wanted to learn more about the production. Back to the binge-watching analogy … these were like tapping into the extra features on the director’s cut DVD. On Friday we attended two lectures in Longborough’s parish church. The first was a Master Class in which two singers who played smaller roles were performing bits and pieces and getting coaching from Rachel Nicholls, who played Brünnhilde the first time Longborough did The Ring. Underlining the intimate nature of this opera festival, current Brünnhilde, Lee Bisset, was sitting in the pew behind us and happily chatting to audience members. I don’t think I’d be able to get out of bed the day after delivering a performance of such power, much less enjoy chatting with strangers.
The second session featured director Amy Lane and Longborough’s Ring Conducting Fellow Harry Sever talking about the challenges of putting on the Cycle. The behind-the-scenes view into the complexities of something this monumental, yet staged in such a small space, was fascinating. In between, all the audience members … who’d now seen three of the four operas together and were all mates … rolled into the local pub for a few pints and more Wagnerian bonding.
To be honest, I doubt I’d enjoy the experience as much at the major urban opera houses. There are more than 2,200 seats at Covent Garden, far too many to build the same kind of community with fellow audience members even if you are sitting together for 15 hours. While I’ve come to love these operas, would I enjoy them as much without all those dining and drinking breaks in a pretty garden? I’m not sure. Sadly, I can’t recommend any other country house operas at which you might try a Ring Cycle, as this has traditionally been considered impossible for small companies to deliver. Longborough is unique. They’ve done it twice in their thirty year history and are now regularly called “The English Bayreuth”. (Bayreuth being the Wagner-built opera house in Bavaria where The Ring was born.)
But I do recommend sampling Wagner, and caution you against thinking that attending a Ring Cycle is something strange and foreign. It’s as modern as binge-watching Netflix with your mates. And if you’re lucky enough to do it at Longborough, it’s magnificent fun.
To be honest, I doubt I’d enjoy the experience as much at the major urban opera houses. There are more than 2,200 seats at Covent Garden, far too many to build the same kind of community with fellow audience members even if you are sitting together for 15 hours. While I’ve come to love these operas, would I enjoy them as much without all those dining and drinking breaks in a pretty garden? I’m not sure. Sadly, I can’t recommend any other country house operas at which you might try a Ring Cycle, as this has traditionally been considered impossible for small companies to deliver. Longborough is unique. They’ve done it twice in their thirty year history and are now regularly called “The English Bayreuth”. (Bayreuth being the Wagner-built opera house in Bavaria where The Ring was born.)
But I do recommend sampling Wagner, and caution you against thinking that attending a Ring Cycle is something strange and foreign. It’s as modern as binge-watching Netflix with your mates. And if you’re lucky enough to do it at Longborough, it’s magnificent fun.
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