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At Last, the Sublime Lise Davidsen’s Debut as Isolde Barcelona
Gran Teatre del Liceu
01/12/2026 - & January 15, 19, 23, 25, 27, 31, 2026
Richard Wagner: Tristan und Isolde
Clay Hilley*/Bryan Register (Tristan), Lise Davidsen*/Elena Pankratova (Isolde), Ekaterina Gubanova (Brangäne), Tomasz Konieczny (Kurwenal), Brindley Sherratt (König Marke), Robert Padullés (Melot), Albert Casals (A shepherd, A young sailor), Milan Perisic (A helmsman)
Coro del Gran Teatro del Liceu, Pablo Assante (Chorus Master), Orquesta Sinfónica del Gran Teatre del Liceu, Susanna Mälkki (conductor)
Bárbara Lluch (Stage Director), Urs Schönebaum (Sets & Lighting), Clara Peluffo (Costumes), Yvonne Gebauer (Dramaturgy)
L. Davidsen (© Sergi Panizo/Gran Teatre del Liceu)
Tristan und Isolde is a colossal work, not only for its length or for the effect the famous Tristan chord had on Western music, but also for the symbolism it represents. Wagner, hugely influenced by Schopenhauer’s philosophy when he wrote this masterpiece, was also conducting an illicit affair with Mathilde, the wife of his benefactor, Swiss businessman Otto von Wesendonck.
The density of its libretto offers a wealth of possibilities for the opera’s director. Unlike typical melodramas, this profound work follows a different path, narrating a deceptively simple story of betrayal, shattered love and death. We witness this in Isolde’s betrayal in nursing the warrior from Cornwall who killed her betrothed Morold; Isolde’s deception of her husband King Marke; Brangäne’s duplicity in not heeding her mistress’s command, substituting poison with a love potion; and Melot’s betrayal of his best friend Tristan by arranging a feigned hunt to surprise the adulterous Isolde and Tristan in flagrante delicto. Staging possibilities involving betrayal are therefore manifold. And this is but one angle from which to approach what is possibly the greatest opera of all time.
Tristan’s plot is a simple one. An Irish Princess takes pity on Tantris, the knight who killed her betrothed Morold. She tends to him and brings him back to life, even knowing he was her fiancé’s killer. Tantris turns out to be Tristan, nephew of Cornwall’s King Marke, and he returns to Ireland to claim Isolde as bride for his uncle. On the ship en route to Cornwall, an outraged Isolde asks her lady‑in‑waiting Brangäne to give her and Tristan poison, as she can’t accept the humiliation. Brangäne takes pity and gives them a love potion; the two fall madly in love. In the second act, the two are caught in flagrante by King Marke during a passionate tryst. Tristan is seriously wounded by his friend Melot, who had denounced him to the King. In the final act, Tristan lays dying in his castle in his native Brittany awaiting either death or Isolde. Isolde arrives as Tristan is dying, collapsing aside him.
This Tristan was one of the very best I’ve seen in decades, thanks to the excellent musicianship of the soloists (especially the title roles), Susanna Mälkki’s superlative conducting, and the fine musicians of the Orquestra Sinfónica del Gran Teatre del Liceu. In contrast, it was also memorable as being one of the least insightful stagings of this colossal work. Director Bárbara Lluch could not have spent much time conceiving her unfortunate staging. The dearth of ideas contrasted with her obvious efforts to showcase Lise Davidsen in her historic debut in the role of Isolde, as if this talented young soprano needed any enhancement.
This premiere was likely the most exciting one in the venerable Teatro Liceu’s recent history, and certainly the most rousing Spanish opening this season. The reason was Lise Davidsen’s return to the stage after a six‑month hiatus following the birth of her twins. More significantly, it was her debut in an emblematic role that she will almost certainly own over the next couple of decades. Bestowing this great honour on Barcelona’s Teatro Liceu is testimony to that theatre’s great prestige and to Davidsen’s excellent rapport with its administration.
I first heard Davidsen as Leonore in a concert version of Fidelio in Montréal and was mesmerized by the beauty and power of her voice, superlative technique and most of all her simplicity and lack of affectation. I continued to be impressed after hearing her in a surprising role, not one that one would expect to be in her repertoire, Giorgetta in Il tabarro in Barcelona. Though not at ease in Italian, she was coached well in Dante’s language and managed to make a strong impression vocally and dramatically. More recently, she was ill‑prepared and ineffective, despite her great voice, as Leonora in a disastrous New York production of La forza del destino. The present performance, despite its flawed staging, reaffirmed Davidsen’s excellence.
It was apparently Davidsen herself who declined to star in a revival of the Liceu’s 2017 well‑received production of Tristan und Isolde, which may be understandable given that it is her debut. However, when she finally agreed to this year’s production, she apparently also insisted on having a woman conductor, a great choice, given that it was Finland’s Susanna Mälkki, as well as a female director, a much less felicitous idea. Director Bárbara Lluch did not strike me as particularly insightful in her staging of La sonnambula in Madrid, the weakest conception of it I’ve ever seen. Here, the damage is more serious, given the richness of Wagner’s opera.
Most of Lluch’s ideas were either made to flatter Isolde at the expense of the other characters, or they were “cut and paste” clin d’œil from productions of other operas. Sheer madness! An example of the latter was starting midway through the prelude to Act I, with the royal household of Ireland gathering around a severed head (an allusion to Strauss’s Salome). The idea of diverting attention from Wagner’s glorious orchestral music is both appalling and idiotic. The severed head served only to shock. Such vulgarity isn’t appropriate at the outset to the most romantic opera in the repertoire. The severed head is supposedly that of Morold, though this contradicts the text. In her Act I narration, Isolde reveals that she had figured out that Tantris was actually Tristan, slayer of her betrothed from the shard in Morold’s body fitting the lost bit of the Cornish warrior’s sword, indicating Morold had succumbed to a mortal wound and not a beheading. This is not to speak of the grotesque idea of conserving a rotting head months after the beheading and not burying the fallen hero, corpus totum. Not a fate befitting royals.
The most offensive “innovation” was placing Isolde, just before Act II’s love duet, dressed in a femme fatale‘s red evening gown, more harlot than queen. Here Isolde acts as a capricious child, supposedly under the effect of the love potion. Even under a narcotic, no sane man would be attracted to such a spoiled, garish woman. If Lluch’s idea of love is a diminishing IQ, then she was bang on. Unfortunately (or fortunately), it’s not a sentiment shared by most of mankind.
In past performances of Tristan und Isolde, the role of Tristan is historically the more problematic one. The demands on the dramatic tenor increase with each act, culminating in Act III, nicknamed “Tristan’s act”. The process is exactly the opposite for the soprano, with Act I having the sobriquet “Isolde’s act”. Almost all tenors have difficulties with Act III.
American dramatic tenor Clay Hilley, heard as Florestan in Fidelio in Toronto, impressed with his bright voice and phenomenal stamina. Rarely have I heard a tenor sound as fresh in the third act. Yet, Hilley managed to portray the dying Tristan’s frailty convincingly. Sadly, this act was dramatically botched by Lluch’s staging. Tristan’s lofty castle Kareol in Brittany was a stylized encampment evoking Ariadne’s rock in Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos. Hilley, who is a heavy set man, is dressed in unflattering garb, as if the intention was to make him as ineffective as possible. Above the dying hero was a mirror which offered another angle of the dismal sets.
Polish baritone Tomasz Konieczny, recently Wotan in Bayreuth’s Ring (Das Rheingold, Die Walküre, Siegfried), portrayed Tristan’s faithful servant touchingly. His long scenes with the dying Tristan were among the best I have heard. Thanks to his impeccable diction and ability to colour his voice, his despair at his master’s mental and physical condition in Act III was the most touching scene of the performance.
Russian mezzo Ekaterina Gubanova positively owned the role of Brangäne, one in which she’s always excelled, whether last summer in Bayreuth or six years ago in Bologna. In other portrayals, she was a caring older sister or even a motherly presence, protective of Isolde. But here, she was merely a devoted servant – possibly a ploy by the director to assure Isolde the spotlight. Indeed, despite her vocal excellence, this was a portrayal where Gubanova was rather distant. Pity, as the Russian mezzo has more to offer than her beautiful voice.
British bass Brindley Sherratt, though competent, was a somewhat lacklustre King Marke. The King’s Act II lament, after he surprises his nephew and young wife in flagrante, can be either riveting or soporific. Only thanks to Mälkki’s masterful conducting was it more the former than the latter. The smaller roles were sung by local singers who were competent, with impressive diction.
In addition to the superb vocalists, the orchestra was heavenly. Mälkki, reputed as one of today’s leading conductors, can indeed be riveting, as she was this summer in Fauré’s Pénélope in Munich. However, she can be dull when not inspired by the work, as was the case in Le nozze di Fígaro, last summer in Munich. Tristan und Isolde proved an ideal showcase for the rich orchestral textures that play to Mälkki’s strengths.
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