For quick reference, here’s an image of Siegfried confronting Fafner in Act Two of Siegfried:
Other light-hearted visual cues abound throughout the first two acts and a little of the third. A prime example, pun intended, is the reforging of Nothung, Siegfried’s sword. Instead of using Mime’s workstation, the little tike receives packages (delivered by stagehands-as-couriers) from “Rhein Logistik,” complete with the familiar logo of a black background, white font, and that familiar orange arrow. Fafner is also given cartoonish treatment that is rather effective. (It’s certainly better than trying to seriously portray an onstage battle with a dragon.) Once again, he’s operated by the visible stagehands.
Quiggly shewed the tragedy, little hope it seemed,
blind faith in capitalisms harlot. That Babylonian whore.
At first a mere money trick for ragged trousered philanthropy. With usury, take away what’s not even yet been paid. Ruskin would see wealth as that which is valuable in the hands of the valiant. Real goods sustain and wealth succours. Usurious money is but an unmade claim and worse. No banker has earned that newly minted note that hangs discordant in the air, as apt to rob as to pay.
How obscure this obscurant cult of mammon.
What smoke screened hall of mirrors.
How obese and gluttonous the leviathan of usury.
Austerity for the likes of you and I.
More banqueting and evacuated vomit spews from the sceptred top table. Corrupt in patronage and jealousy of power. Overstuffed with greed and thirsty for more.
How mean the jealousy of greed grows.
As more wants more and demands all.
The truly poor are those who desire much,
oppressive wealth no longer is, it only has.
Usury consumes the usurer, no self just an exponential nothing. Growing ever more grotesque in a shadow of what never was and never could be.
A doom-laden ring of the Nibelungs, slained by Teutonic nobles and routed by heroic Norsemen.
The paper money shrouds the rock of Prometheus and
still, he forgets in whose promises the usurers truck.
The Lyric Opera of Chicago‘s new production of Richard Wagner‘s Siegfried is a triumph. Considering the production as a whole, it’s the strongest installment yet of the company‘s new Der Ring des Nibelungen, all of which is directed by David Pountney.
Perhaps Wagner is telling us something about what it means to take back control of our Money?
|MYERS, RUSSELL – Broom Hilda sunday – 1979|