There are eerie resonances, too, in how Wotan and Alberich, opposing characters, become obsessed with the ring. Alberich literally stumbles upon the magic gold when he makes advances at the Rhinemaidens, who find him laughably hideous. Rebuffed and humiliated, he steals the gold in an I’ll-show-you-all act of vengeance. But Wotan, who has heard of the gold and its power, was content to leave it be, until the moment when we meet him in “Das Rheingold.” Now he needs to pay his contractors. And beyond that, once he learns what Alberich has done, Wotan feels threatened. He must get his hands on that ring, on that power — whatever the cost to his governing legitimacy and personal life.

You may also find one other theme uncomfortably familiar: heads of state near and far granting governing authority to family members. Having made a hash of things and violated the very codes he had sworn to uphold, Wotan must somehow make corrections. Knowing that his own hands are tied, he fathers children hoping that one of his descendants (perhaps the hero who has been prophesied) might take over his domain and, exercising free will, right his wrongs, while still maintaining power.

But it doesn’t look good. His narcissistic greed and power grabs have caused havoc in the world. The ring (now in possession of the giant Fafner) is cursed; the natural order has been disrupted; the only hope of averting the inevitable global calamity (which brings to mind climate change) is for the ring to be returned to the river.

Since Wotan also craves knowledge — knowledge is power, after all — he pursues Erda, the all-knowing earth goddess, who comes to warn him about what will ensue if he keeps on his heedless and destructive path. They end up having nine daughters together, and he raises the girls as Valkyrie warriors to do his bidding. But only Brünnhilde, his favorite, seems to know his mind. “Who am I if not your will?” she asks in an intimate moment when Wotan seems troubled. What follows is the rare confessional scene among numerous tales of fearsome, all-powerful fathers, when Wotan tells Brünnhilde the woeful story of how he has broken the covenants and mismanaged his life.

This aspect of the “Ring” always reminds me of the scene in “The Godfather” in which the ailing Vito Corleone confides in Michael, his trusted son. “I never wanted this for you,” Vito says. He had hoped that, after lawlessly building an empire, by this point he would have given the family business a legitimate veneer and groomed an heir who could prevail within the establishment. Senator Corleone? Governor Corleone? “We’ll get there, Pop,” Michael replies.