The Met's Tristan und Isolde in HD: Stunning In Sight and Sound

For an art form we've recently been told "no one cares about" a number of opera companies have been having sold out shows playing to packed enthusiastic audiences. One enjoying that kind of success is The Metropolitan Opera's new, and long-anticipated Tristan und Isolde, which has not only sold out its run, but done the very rare thing of getting most of the cast on board for one more show.  This is not to say opera still isn't hurting, it's what the arts tend to do, but should dispel any foolish notion that no one cares.

Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of attending the HD cinema transmission of Tristan, and it was well worth the wait. While I had a caveat or two about Yuval Sharon's now already controversial production, I'm only one among many who found it enormously satisfying, dramatically moving, and musically, this is the real deal. Sharon's production is - like-it-or-not, stunning. Depending on where you are on the traditional vs. regie scale, it can be either enormously thought provoking and emotionally satisfying, or busy and annoying. I fall in the former camp, and loved almost every moment.  

Like Wagner's score, Sharon gives us layers and levels and Es Devlin's remarkable multi-level, stage literally fills the stage top-to-bottom, side-to-side creating seemingly disjointed playing areas. On the stage floor level is a table where siti stage doubles of the title couple, while above is an enormous oval, that will change shapes, become interlocking tunnels, open and shut, and offer views e.g., from an eye, a camera aperture, even a kaleidoscope. The changes happen with a dreamlike fluidity matching mood and music  that felt natural, even as I watched in awe.  

As has been the case throughout history, the production itself almost feels secondary (something that would drive the dramatist,Wagner, insane), because it is the music that draws all to Tristan. First. Foremost. Always.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin is a conductor I both enjoy and get annoyed with. Since the beginning he has shown a tendency to relish too much in his orchestral bath of sound, frequently not seeming to  understand what the word balance means.  I've heard some of the biggest voices in opera rendered all but inaudible under his baton. When he gets something right, however, it's very good indeed. Such is the case of his reading of Tristan. It's his kind of opera - a synthesis of voice and orchestra that blend into that oft-used reference "oceanic" in that Wagner's score comes through the house in waves of sound that pulsate . . . ebb and flow throughout the house. Each of the preludes perfectly captured the mood and spirit of the act to follow. The strings were cutting deep with a resonance you could feel - even through loudspeakers in a cinema. The exquisite writing for winds had such plaintive delicacy as to sound like the very essence of deep sadness. Wagnerian magic poured out of the pit from start to finish.

That magic extended to the cast, most notably its title characters. Only months after her already historic debut several as Isolde (and rather shortly after a much publicized delivery of twin boys)  Lise Davidsen again shows what kind of beauty is possible in this challenging role.  The possessor of an enormous sound, Davidsen is also a cautious, intelligent singer with an ever increasing good dramatic sense if not necessarily by instinct. Where I felt roles like Leonora (Forza), Tosca, et al. never satisfied me, whereas the Germanic repertoire suits her perfectly, and no role to date more so than her Isolde. With only two outings under her  belt, she is already a leading Isolde, and I have no doubt we shall see Ms. Davidsen devleoping into one of the great Isoldes of any age. I'm just letting that sink in. 

Her Isolde had both spit and spirit . . . not an overly haughty princess, Davidsen nonetheless easily conveyed a regality, even when being somewhat submissive to her lady, Brangäne. She laughs, reveals a fear-based anger, one might call it contempt ,even - toward her captors,and her curse rings out with non-disguised venom. That she manages to do so while sounding breathtaking is almost a revelation of sorts. This Isolde is capable of strong-arming both Tristan and Kurwenal in the beginning, but also makes the potion taking business among the most believable in my experience. Her business with a knife pointed at Tristan's throat was an effective image - and brilliantly revealed by the staging; the action framed in and as the knife's edge. (That probably doesn't read well if you've not seen it - but the effect was stunning). Much like her Isolde for Spain, Davidsen seems to fully believe in the director's vision which makes her Isolde beautifully believable. We can feel everything she feels, see what she sees, and the effect of that cannot be overstated. The Liebestod is taken at an incredibly slow pace, which recalled Hildegard Behrens and Bernstein's 1982 performance  in that while indeed slow, never languishes or becomes shapeless. Indeed, both soprano and conductor imbue Wagner's chromaticism with a pulsing, yearning quality that by its end, very nearly stopped my heart.  

Michael Spyres was never a singer I might never before have imagined as Tristan, but after hearing him as Pfitzner's Palestrina and Wagner's Siegmund, was very intrigued by the prospect of this bel canto prince's transformation to Sir Tristan. What I experienced yesterday reconfirmed what I thought opening night; this is the  Tristan of my dreams today. We have several marvelous tenors in the role right now, but for me, none sound as "beautiful" to my ear as does Mr. Spyres. There appeared to be no vocal challenges (not that there weren't) he couldn't tackle, and, at every measure, I believed this was Tristan. In fine form throughout the first two acts, Spyres approached the Tristan Challenge - that voice-wrecking, backbreaker of what is arguably opera's longest mad scene, sounding as fresh as he had four hours earlier. The voice sailed with ease and an evenness that captures all of the frenzied hysteria and tumult of the dying Tristan. 

The third act also brought out English horn player Pedro Diaz from the pit onto the stage.  Costumed and woven into the action it provided a beautiful kind of symbiosis drawing even closer the inseparable relationship between music and drama. I thought it another perfect touch. 

Sharon's use of acting doubles here was at its most potent.As the silent Tristan lies dying, the singing Tristan is in that tunnel above, watching  himself as he passes into an afterworld. A host of white clad dancers move around and almost through him, his movements blending into theirs in a sort of eternal dance of spiritual energy that I found haunting in the way the music makes me feel. During this transition from life-to-death we watch Tristan witnessing the too-late arrival of his beloved  - now very pregnant - Isolde, and here, at his final cry - "Isolde!" found me falling to pieces. The stage image, one I never myself could have imagined - hit me with an enormity of emotions - I was all over the place, filled with sorrow, a strange satisfaction, but most of all, a sense of wonder. 

Few operatic side kicks are as crucial to the development of a work's title characters than Brangäne and Kurwenal. Although servants, each serves as confidant, friend, sibling and guardian with  unwavering love and loyalty. These relationsips, in a very large way, define who Tristan and Isolde are.

 Ekaterina Gubanova has been Planet Earth's go-to Brangäne for twenty years, and while not as fresh now as then, she remains among my favorites in this role.  and the voice on this occasion sounded stronger, sturdier and warmer than opening night. At every turn one feels this is Brangäne down to her core.  

I am a  huge fan of Tomasz Konieczny, but both on opening night and yesterday, his first act Kurwenal sounded a bit blowsey - the vibrato a tad wide and unfocused. However, as on opening night, all of that went away and Konieczny, always marvelous actor sounded more robust and even. making an enormous impact. One of the most moving parts of Tristan is Kurwenal's love for and loyalty to Tristan, as we watch him tenderly care for his dying friend, followed by Tristan's recognition of that devotion. There is a bond here at a level rarely seen in Wagner, or indeed, any opera. Kurwenal's final words, "Tristan, beloved, do not scold your faithful friend for following you" is one of those lines that has the power to destroy me emotionally, and Konieczny did not disappoint.

Ryan Speedo Green brought both a tragic nobility and warmness of tone befitting King Marke. His big monologue at the discovery of the lovers felt more subdued than I've seen before, and . if his King isn't yet on the level of  say, Pape or Salminen, it very much feels headed in that direction, which makes me eager to experience him in the role again. 

The roles of the Young Sailor, Melot, and the Shepherd were respectively taken by Ben Reisginer, Thomas Glass, and Jonas Hacker who all contributed strong performances when being seen or unseen. The men of the Met's chorus were properly stirring and "chanty" in the first act.

After hearing so much negative criticism of the production itself, I was surprised that the sold-out audience at Apple Cinema Westbrook - of which I appeared to be the youngest member of - reacted so positively, discussing the staging, almost all of them loving it, "beautiful" being the most used description. At the first intermission the pair of ladies to my right, let me know they were not among those loving the production however, and apologized for giggling several times. I thought that was endearing, but by the end, both women were wiping their eyes with tissues, and invited me to look into the seniors adult courses on opera at University of Southern Maine..  Meanwhile my seatmate to my left, loved everything about about it. Barbara was a delight, an 84 year old Polish woman who moved here in 1975. We talked about Wagner, and she found it interesting that I was obsessed with Wagner in my childhood, "I grew up in Poland during World War II - we didn't have Wagner!"  

Most objections against this Tristan seem reserved for the final moments, with Isolde giving birth to a son, before the Liebestod. I didn't like the idea when hearing about it, but seeing it - I found it perfectly fulfilled Sharon's vision of Wagner's spirituality - combining infinite tragedy with eternal hope, and regeneration. As the silent Isolde dies alongside Tristan, the singing Isolde, her outer garments now pared down to purest white, sings to her child and all of us below, Brangäne gently handing over the orphaned infant to King Marke.  I cannot speak to the effectiveness of how this played in the house, but in HD, that final image of the King cradling his wife's child in his arms, gently kissing him as we watch Isolde moving through the tunnel towards Tristan - towards eternity, was as beautiful an image as I've ever seen.

The entire afternoon had the feel of triumphant and important journey - a genuine event, and as we poured out of the lobby, into the brightl, sunlit beautiful first day of Spring, those hours in the dark with Wagner and company felt like a renewal of life. 

Why Regietheater Doesn't Work

Why Regietheater Doesn't Work


Hänsel und Gretel - Staatsoper Berlin

Okay, perhaps I got your attention - and you stand on one side of this argument or the other. Yes, the title is a misleading, particularly to those who know me as champion of a lot of regie productions, but the statement is also, unfortunately true. When inspired and when it workk, something not necessarily simultaneous as one might believe, regie can illuminate a familiar opera up to levels we'd not before thought of. It can provoke discussions on works too frequently "ho-hummed" despite their being well-attended, respected works of the lyric theatre. Good regietheater can shake us up, pull us out of the seemingly ordinary and elucidate a work as familiar as your staid, old Aunt Claire who for years has bored you to tears, until your discovering she was a topless dancer at the Folies Bergère and had a lesbian affair with Josephine Baker. Huh? What? Exactly.

Pelléas et Mélisande - Salzburg

Unfortunately, a good chunk of Regie fails for a number of reasons, but chiefly two: First, the director does not know enough about and/or truly respect the work entrusted to her or his care; and second, opera singers are not good enough actors to pull off the stunts required by those untrusting directors. I have a lot of opera singer friends who may get upset about that, and believe me, as a former (though never made it to the pros) opera singer, I mean that not as a slam in any way. I'll explain.

Pelléas et Mélisande - Salzburg

All opera singers are trained in acting and some, naturally gifted, could easily transition to the spoken stage and make a career there - athough why anyone would choose to not sing when one can is something both foreign and incomprehensible to me, not to mention ridiculous. Others not so gifted in the acting department (and that's the majority), can and often do succeed through sheer discipline, dedication to their art and guidance from their teachers, workshops, coaches and directors. These singers cultivate their skills to the highest level, and like any well-practiced skill, are often leave an impact that can be, and frequently is, stronger and more impressive than the so-called "natural." Think about how many performances you've attended where a singer, not particularly known for their acting, uses all of the tools of their trade to suckerpunch your heart and leave you in wide-eyed stun mode by what you've witnessed from them. These are the singers who have learned how to work with the music to serve the composer, how to create an effect that may on some surface level wow us, but even more importantly, dig beneath the surface and can transfuse the composer's music from their soul into our own. This is the magic of opera.

Tannhäuser - BayerischeStaatsoper München
When that connection is not understood by a director, there is a break in the chain between the composer, the singer and us, and this is never a good thing. Never. Ever.

We know a director doesn't trust the material (even if she/he is unaware of that) whenever We see them giving singers "business" to draw our eye to something, all while that something is remains in the mind of the director alone. It is not transferrable to either the singer, or to us, the audience., The singer may execute this business precisely as instructed, even to the satisfaction and delight of the director, but its meaning remains obscured to the point of being not only unnecessary, but actually intrusive.

Don Carlos - Düren, Germany

I recently watched a baroque opera where the director has updated the action and places one scene in a bar where two blokes are downing shots. One of them, the tenor, elaborately struggles to, then succesfully lights a cigarette, which he then waves around in what appear to be meaningless and distracting gestures. We look for some meaning in them, but there ultimately are none. He finishes his smoke, then mid-aria, his friend gestures for a smoke, the tenor offers him one, lights it, then reaches back into his pocket, withdraws and lights another for himself. Throughout the remainder of the aria he continues to perform the awkward gesticulations waving the cigarette about as if punctuating the text of this one sentence, da capo aria. At it's conclusion he tosses the cigarette behind the bar and storms out. What happened? It's anyone's guess.

Smoking onstage is a difficult enough thing to pull off, and is always an audience distraction with nearly everyone wondering: "is that a real cigarette? Is the singer a smoker? Doesn't the smoke bother other singers?" but most of all "why is this character smoking?" Too quickly and all too easily that unnecessary action it becomes the central "thing" to watch, and, instead of furthering the action or our understanding, only further separates us from the actual opera itself. Likewise, the singer, also is distracted by performing this hand ballet so irrelevant to the plot and to what he's singing about, all of it producing an effect wholly unrelated to the opera, and unnatural to the storytelling in every way possible. This is never a good thing. An actor from the spoken stage may be able to pull this off, but this is not the spoken stage, it is opera, and we all know things are wildly different in this world. That's why there's a difference. Of course, there's also the fact that like onstage nudity or unnecessary violence, more often than not, it's a cheap and uninspired gimmick and the lazy way out of putting meaning into a scene.

Too many theatre directors working in opera are or become self-indulgent and, instead of realizing the world in which they've chosen to inhabit, one filled with its own traditions, foibles, blessings and curses, imagine they are, instead at DV8 or La MaMa and working with beings whose bodies are trained for an entirely different kind of magic. We've seen and heard from directors how have even exhibited outright contempt for opera and its sometimes opera-sized singers. Of course there are elements that abound and abide in ALL theatre, which at its heart is nothing more than storytelling, but the manner in which those stories are told differ as widely - and as wildly - as the very art forms by which they're being told and defined by, be it ballet, opera, puppetry, Noh, Kabuki, or African dance.

Parsifal - BayerischeStaatsoper München
The traditions of every type of theatre must be respected and honored. We often witness that respect in every type of theatre, but, increasingly, in the opera house, we see less and less of it, despite the platitudes we may hear from directors who may say otherwise. Too many times I've heard a director say "I embrace the challenge of working with the diverse world of opera, it's vastness, the various shapes and sizes of its singers and history of traditions," only to see the final result being singers awkwardly shoe-horned into costumes and productions they are uncomfortable with and unnatural in.

There are those who will misread what I've written as a diatribe against regietheatre, when nothing could be further from the truth. What I'm against is bad regie, just as I'm against bad traditional productions which do nothing but present works as museum pieces, works that have earned their status as repertory pieces and deserve far more than to be preserved in mothballs.