Friday, Mar. 21, 1969

Bye-Bye Brunnhilde

Sweden's Birgit Nilsson is the world's reigning Wagnerian soprano. Austria's Herbert von Karajan has no superior as a conductor of the Ring cycle. Alas, two great melodies do not always pro duce a single pleasing harmony. Ever since she began singing under his demanding baton, Miss Nilsson's relation ship with the Salzburg-born maestro has become increasingly sour. Among other things, she has been irked by his insistence on unusually time-consuming rehearsals and is not too keen about his dark, brooding lighting effects, which often keep the singers in the shadows. "I could walk out for coffee sometimes," Miss Nilsson once complained to Rudo. lf Bing, general manager of New York City's Metropolitan Opera, "and no one would know the difference."

Last week, in the temperamental tradition of opera's prima donnas, Miss Nilsson did indeed walk out on the Met. She not only refused to sing as Bruennhilde in the 1970 premiere of the new Von Karajan production of Goetterdaemmerung, but also canceled her scheduled performances next season in Ariadne auf Naxos. Her reason: the Met was letting that nasty Von Karajan whittle down the number of her performances in order to introduce a younger Viennese protegee, Soprano Helga Dernesch, to New York audiences. "When the birds are not happy," throbbed Miss Nilsson, "they don't sing."

Still scarred by memories of his war with the tempestuous Maria Callas, Impresario Bing tried to absolve his conductor and soothe his diva. Miss Dernesch, he explained, had merely been engaged as an understudy: "Even Madame Nilsson, as immortal as she is, can get sick occasionally." But since the Austrian soprano was coming all the way to New York, he added, she at least deserves the chance to give one performance in Von Karajan's critically acclaimed production of the Ring. From Vienna, the conductor supplied an obbligato of support to Bing's explanation.

Following a different libretto, the ordinarily affable Nilsson charged that the Met had in fact unilaterally cut her Wagner schedule nearly in half, added vocally taxing side-by-side performances of Aida and Goetterdaemmerung, and rudely notified her of the changes by a brusque note left by a porter at her hotel room. What miffed her even more was the fact that the Met had added three more Italian roles--she wanted to devote her voice to the Ring--and even carelessly scheduled one performance on the very day she was flying in from Europe. True, the Met then tried to make amends, but too late. "We singers," said Nilsson, in an obvious understatement, "are very sensitive people." exit diva, stage left, curtain.

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