Tristan und Isolde
Lest I am accused of too much grumbling, may I start by saying that the current production of Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde”, that apex of operatic composition rarely performed to perfection, is currently in a new production at the Metropolitan Opera, and attending it this past week was a wonderful musical experience. Hellishly difficult to sing, lasting nearly five hours, needing not only five great singers but a sensitive, brilliant conductor as well, it is the crowning glory of any opera company that attempts it and succeeds. Nina Stemme, the superb Swedish soprano who had been the reigning Isolde of the last ten years had finally arrived to sing the role at the Metropolitan, and she fulfilled all expectations. Her Tristan, Stuart Skelton, an Australian tenor, was very nearly her equal. Rene Pape as King Marke, Ekaterina Gubenova as Brangene and all the supporting cast sang as expected, and Simon Rattle conducted with sensitivity. All was well on the musical side. But, alas, the staging, the production: a crushing disappointment.
Opera is not only music. If that is all it was, concert performances would be sufficient; or, for that matter, one could listen to the performance on radio, or on recordings. For those of us “groupies” who are hooked on the art form in its entirety, the theatrical aspect of it is nearly as important as the music: it is the complete performance that leaves lasting marks and that are remembered as life-changing when one is lucky enough to experience a great combination of the music and the drama. I was fortunate to have had a few of those experiences, and one of the most memorable ones was the “Tristan” during the 1971/72 season of the Metropolitan. This was an earthquake of a performance: conducted by Erich Leinsdorf, directed and designed by August Everding and Günther Schneider-Siemssen, it had Birgit Nilsson, the greatest Wagnerian singer of the second half of the 20th century singing Isolde, a role she made her debut in about ten years earlier and that earned a front-page article about the event in the New York Times. Tristan was Jess Thomas, an American tenor, excellent singer and a handsome presence; Brangene, Isolde’s confidant, was Christa Ludwig who made the role, which easily slips into the background in the hands of a lesser singer, one of the major actors in the unfolding drama; and finally, there was an excellent John Macurdy in the crucial role of King Marke.
From the very first moment when the curtain rose following the introductory music, we found ourselves in the two-tiered cutaway of the ship carrying Isolde from Ireland to Cornwall among billowing sails on the upper level and Isolde’s quarters below where the drama begins to take place, the transfixed audience was in the presence of magic. When the lovers drink the love-potion on that ship and the stage goes dark and the two of them rise to some level where they are oblivious to all and are conscious only of each other, it was magic. To the end in Kareol where Tristan lies dead and Isolde sings the final notes that consummate their love, the magic never let up. At the end of the performance, there was a pause of some seconds before the transfixed audience found its voice and roared its approval.
When it was over, there was a general feeling that it had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience; that, although one will, with luck, see more performances of “Tristan und Isolde”, they will not be able to match the quality of this one. That presentiment has proven to be true, at least for me, in the intervening 45 years. The same production survived for many years at the Metropolitan, with different people singing in subsequent seasons, none matching the original cast. There was a ridiculous new staging in 1999 that lasted several seasons, with various casts that varied in quality, never uniformly great, never uniformly poor. It disappeared several years ago.
When after a hiatus of some years the current new production was announced, the excitement among devotees of “Tristan” was immeasurable. Nina Stemme is a known quantity, a genuinely great singer, and although we knew nothing much about Stuart Skelton, hopes were high. It was only some months ago that I became aware that Mariusz Trelinsky was the proposed the director for the new production. My heart sank. I had written a post in February of 2015 about Bela Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” directed by Mr. Trelinsky and what I said about his work then was not complimentary. In short, I felt that he had either not understood the emotional underpinnings of “Bluebeard” or had intentionally misrepresented them; and that a great opportunity was missed to present a notoriously difficult-to-stage great opera. However, “Tristan” is a different work, Mr Trlelinsky has a great reputation; I decided to keep an open mind and hope against hope that that he will surprise me, and that there just might be a repeat of the transcendental experience of 45 years ago.
It was not to be. Once again, Mr. Trelinsky was determined to re-interpret a work that hardly needs re-interpretation, and introduce elements into it that not only confuse what we see but diminish the momentum that is necessary both musically and dramatically. Implications of Tristan as an arsonist? Of King Marke as a sinister presence in his past? Tristan’s death taking place in a dingy hospital room instead of the grounds of his castle in Kareol, a dark, night-time room, while he sings of harsh sunlight beating down on him? Isolde, instead of expiring in a great consummation of love, slitting her wrists and singing her transcendental final aria crumpled in a corner on stage right in the hospital room? All of the above are fatally injurious to the fundamental drama, diminish it, and in fact are contrary to the intentions of the composer. Mr. Trelinsky is an “innovator” who clearly can’t accept the operatic repertoire for what it is and feels that only drastic re-interpretation will save this, what he must consider a dying art form. To say that I violently disagree is an understatement.
Who knows? Perhaps Nina Stemme will get a great production somewhere else and I will live long enough to see it? Hope never dies. Meanwhile, there are some wonderful recordings.
Opera is not only music. If that is all it was, concert performances would be sufficient; or, for that matter, one could listen to the performance on radio, or on recordings. For those of us “groupies” who are hooked on the art form in its entirety, the theatrical aspect of it is nearly as important as the music: it is the complete performance that leaves lasting marks and that are remembered as life-changing when one is lucky enough to experience a great combination of the music and the drama. I was fortunate to have had a few of those experiences, and one of the most memorable ones was the “Tristan” during the 1971/72 season of the Metropolitan. This was an earthquake of a performance: conducted by Erich Leinsdorf, directed and designed by August Everding and Günther Schneider-Siemssen, it had Birgit Nilsson, the greatest Wagnerian singer of the second half of the 20th century singing Isolde, a role she made her debut in about ten years earlier and that earned a front-page article about the event in the New York Times. Tristan was Jess Thomas, an American tenor, excellent singer and a handsome presence; Brangene, Isolde’s confidant, was Christa Ludwig who made the role, which easily slips into the background in the hands of a lesser singer, one of the major actors in the unfolding drama; and finally, there was an excellent John Macurdy in the crucial role of King Marke.
From the very first moment when the curtain rose following the introductory music, we found ourselves in the two-tiered cutaway of the ship carrying Isolde from Ireland to Cornwall among billowing sails on the upper level and Isolde’s quarters below where the drama begins to take place, the transfixed audience was in the presence of magic. When the lovers drink the love-potion on that ship and the stage goes dark and the two of them rise to some level where they are oblivious to all and are conscious only of each other, it was magic. To the end in Kareol where Tristan lies dead and Isolde sings the final notes that consummate their love, the magic never let up. At the end of the performance, there was a pause of some seconds before the transfixed audience found its voice and roared its approval.
When it was over, there was a general feeling that it had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience; that, although one will, with luck, see more performances of “Tristan und Isolde”, they will not be able to match the quality of this one. That presentiment has proven to be true, at least for me, in the intervening 45 years. The same production survived for many years at the Metropolitan, with different people singing in subsequent seasons, none matching the original cast. There was a ridiculous new staging in 1999 that lasted several seasons, with various casts that varied in quality, never uniformly great, never uniformly poor. It disappeared several years ago.
When after a hiatus of some years the current new production was announced, the excitement among devotees of “Tristan” was immeasurable. Nina Stemme is a known quantity, a genuinely great singer, and although we knew nothing much about Stuart Skelton, hopes were high. It was only some months ago that I became aware that Mariusz Trelinsky was the proposed the director for the new production. My heart sank. I had written a post in February of 2015 about Bela Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” directed by Mr. Trelinsky and what I said about his work then was not complimentary. In short, I felt that he had either not understood the emotional underpinnings of “Bluebeard” or had intentionally misrepresented them; and that a great opportunity was missed to present a notoriously difficult-to-stage great opera. However, “Tristan” is a different work, Mr Trlelinsky has a great reputation; I decided to keep an open mind and hope against hope that that he will surprise me, and that there just might be a repeat of the transcendental experience of 45 years ago.
It was not to be. Once again, Mr. Trelinsky was determined to re-interpret a work that hardly needs re-interpretation, and introduce elements into it that not only confuse what we see but diminish the momentum that is necessary both musically and dramatically. Implications of Tristan as an arsonist? Of King Marke as a sinister presence in his past? Tristan’s death taking place in a dingy hospital room instead of the grounds of his castle in Kareol, a dark, night-time room, while he sings of harsh sunlight beating down on him? Isolde, instead of expiring in a great consummation of love, slitting her wrists and singing her transcendental final aria crumpled in a corner on stage right in the hospital room? All of the above are fatally injurious to the fundamental drama, diminish it, and in fact are contrary to the intentions of the composer. Mr. Trelinsky is an “innovator” who clearly can’t accept the operatic repertoire for what it is and feels that only drastic re-interpretation will save this, what he must consider a dying art form. To say that I violently disagree is an understatement.
Who knows? Perhaps Nina Stemme will get a great production somewhere else and I will live long enough to see it? Hope never dies. Meanwhile, there are some wonderful recordings.
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