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Ascent to Eternity Genoa
Teatro Carlo Felice
02/13/2026 - & February 15, 20*, 22, 2026
Richard Wagner: Tristan und Isolde
Tilmann Unger (Tristan), Marjorie Owens*/Soonjin Moon-Sebastian (Isolde), Evgeny Stavinsky (König Marke), Nicolò Ceriani (Kurwenal), Daniela Barcellona (Brangäne), Saverio Fiore (Melot), Andrea Schifaudo (A pilot, A shepherd), Matteo Peirone (A young sailor)
Coro del Teatro Carlo Felice, Claudio Marino Moretti (Chorus Master), Orchestra del Teatro Carlo Felice, Donato Renzetti (Conductor)
Lawrence Dale (Stage Director), Gary McCann (Sets, Costumes), John Bishop (Lighting), Leandro Summo (Videography)
T. Unger, M. Owens (© Marcello Orselli)
Tristan und Isolde is a colossal work, not only for its length (five hours, including two intermissions) or for the effect the famous Tristan chord had on Western music, but also for the symbolism it represents. Wagner was hugely influenced by Schopenhauer’s philosophy when he wrote this masterpiece. He was also leading an illicit affair with Mathilde Wesendonck, wife of his benefactor, Swiss businessman Otto von Wesendonck.
In Mascagni’s rarely-performed opera Nerone, one character says “Se amor non uccide, amor non è” (“If love doesn’t kill, it’s not love”). This is one way to approach the staging of Tristan und Isolde: their love is a passion so consuming that its only possible outcome is death. The marvel of Lawrence Dale’s production is that he went beyond that notion; the opera’s bleak outcome with both lovers dying is rendered more noble and uplifting.
The density of Tristan und Isolde’s libretto offers a wealth of possibilities for the opera’s director. Unlike typical melodramas, this profound work follows an altogether 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; in Isolde’s deception of her husband King Marke; in Brangäne’s duplicity in not heeding her mistress’s command, substituting poison with a love potion; and finally in 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 simple: an Irish Princess takes pity on Tantris, the knight who killed her betrothed Morold. She tends to him, bringing him back to life, even while 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 taking them to Cornwall, an outraged Isolde asks her lady-in-waiting Brangäne to give her and Tristan poison as she cannot 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. The latter arrives as Tristan is dying and collapses next to him.
I wasn’t supposed to see this production as I was to return home to Canada a week before the premiere. Once Genova’s Teatro Carlo Felice announced its season, I noticed the director was none other than Britain’s Lawrence Dale, a favourite. Therefore, I immediately extended my trip in order to see this production. Firstly, Tristan und Isolde is my favourite opera. Secondly, most of today’s opera directors, with the notable exception of Damiano Michieletto, Robert Carsen, Christof Loy and a few other bright lights, lack creativity and a knowledge of literature, mythology, philosophy and history. Dale, who I knew through his recordings as an excellent lyric tenor, impressed me with his brilliant staging of La cambiale di matrimonio, a one‑act farce by an eighteen-year-old Rossini, at Pesaro’s ROF (Rossini Opera Festival). Despite the relative insignificance of this early work, it was by far the best‑staged opera at that prestigious festival. If he was able to render this modest early work into a stimulating production, I wondered at the ideas Dale would impart to Tristan und Isolde, the greatest of all operas.
By the first thirty minutes, it was clear I’d made a judicious choice; this was clearly a brilliant production. Dale and his set and costume designer Gary McCann were subtly recounting the story, without any attempt to “improve” it. The ship bearing Isolde to Cornwall was rendered as a circular platform, surmounted by a matching inclined disc suspended above it. The upper lid was used as a mirror and videographic images were projected on it. The two discs evoked an open shell, a most appropriate image in Act I, which takes place on a ship. This imagery provided a nurturing space for the two lovers in Act II and for the dying Tristan in Act III.
Thanks to John Bishop’s effective use of light and colour, and Leandro Summo’s creative video projections, the moods were expertly set for each act; the blue of the sea in Act I, a red forest reflecting ardent passion in Act II, and black and white images of ice, evoking death, in Act III. These images and colours accompanied the action but never intruded. The brilliant use of lighting revealed a director who understood the opera’s chiaroscuro elements. Tristan und Isolde is about love and death, as well as dark and light, as clearly delineated in Tristan’s words in Act II’s love duet.
Act I opens to Isolde wearing a regal dress and a diadem, seated on a treasure chest. Other than conveying the Irish Princess’s pride and royal station, the scene insinuates that Isolde, like the strongbox, is a tribute to the Cornish conquerors of Ireland. When she erupts in rage upon hearing the young sailor sing “Frisch weht der Wind der Heimat zu: mein irisch Kind, wo weilest du?”, the change of mood is predictable and almost to be expected. Isolde’s rage is more against herself than Tristan, for her love of Tantris/Tristan betrays everything she stands for: love for her future spouse and love of country. For the man who caused all this to then claim her as a spouse for his elderly uncle was too much to bear. Consumed by the consequences of her fate, Isolde turns her fury toward those she believes responsible for her undoing: Tristan and herself.
During Isolde’s narrative and curse “Von einem Kahn, der klein und arm an Irlands Küste schwamm,” the battle between Isolde’s betrothed Morold and Tristan was enacted. The wounded Tristan mortally stabs Morold in the back, thus conveying Tristan’s perfidy. This was Dale’s non‑intrusive way of conveying added reasons for Isolde’s rage at herself for having nursed and fallen in love with the unworthy Tristan. Facing her mistress’s intense rage, Brangäne’s decision to substitute the poison Isolde requested for a love potion seemed naturally as a spur-of-the-moment decision; a brilliant touch by Dale.
Act II opens with an unctuous Melot leading Isolde to a place in the forest where she will meet Tristan. This minor detail, added by the director, clearly indicates that Tristan’s “best friend” was the instigator of this setup. During the long duet between Tristan and Isolde, the forest changes colour, becoming more intensely red, conveying the lovers’ passion. Once caught in flagrante by King Marke, Melot and the hunting party, the red forest turns gray and yellow, reflecting the lovers’ despair, the King’s jealousy and Melot’s envy.
Act III is by far the hardest to stage; it can also be tedious due to extended lamentations by the dying Tristan and Kurwenal’s despair. However, the intensity of the two singers and Dale’s subtle staging kept the audience riveted. Leandro Summo’s videography provided distinctly Nordic background images that amplified forlornness. Icebergs and cold winds reflected Tristan’s emotions as he sensed impending death, yet these images were neither invasive nor distracting. One could be easily immersed in the singers’ performances and not even notice these stark images. Indeed, the secret of the beauty of Dale’s staging is in its loving accompagnamento rather than a conspicuous imposition.
Dale’s majestic “coup de théâtre” was Isolde’s Liebestod; while she sang the most intense soprano aria, King Marke holds and consoles a devastated Brangäne, a testament to the latter’s devotion and love for Isolde and to the former’s forgiveness. In the most memorable staging of the opera’s finale, rather than a lifeless Isolde collapsing on the dead Tristan, Tristan is resurrected, insinuating an ascent to Eternity. Without imposing non‑existent parallel plots as lesser directors do, Dale subtly transforms the tragic end into a message of love and humanity. Unobtrusively and lovingly, he prioritizes love over Schopenhauer’s nihilism. Without a doubt, this was one of the finest Tristan and Isolde productions I’ve ever seen (and I’ve seen quite a few).
The cast was strong, but not on the same level as the staging. Vocally, the two lead roles are murderously challenging, with both singing throughout. Tristan earns some respite during Act I’s narration (known as Isolde’s Act), as does Isolde, at the start and middle of Act III (known as Tristan’s Act). Both can recharge during King Marke’s long narration in Act II.
American soprano Marjorie Owens is best-known for her German repertoire. Heard in Florence as Senta in Der fliegende Holländer, she impressed with her richly powerful voice and winning stage presence. Last May, she was a moving Santuzza in Cavalleria rusticana in Toronto. More suited for Wagner’s lyric soprano roles, such as Sieglinde, Elisabeth and Elsa, Isolde tests Owens’ limits. Unsurprisingly, she was up for the challenge, though the strain of the demanding role led to a slight metallic edge in Act II’s “Love duet.” She portrayed Isolde as poised, intense but also fragile. Thanks to Dale’s staging, her fury in the first act was almost terrifying. She conveyed the Irish princess’s rage against herself for succumbing to Tristan’s charm and bringing him back to health, though she had clearly figured out that the knight who called himself Tantris was none other than Tristan, killer of her betrothed Morold. Her “Liebestod” was vocally magnificent, rendered sublime by Dale’s poetic staging, sung with beautiful legato and interpreted with subtlety. More than any other production, Owens’ incandescent “Liebestod” felt like a solemn prayer.
Even more than the role of Isolde, the role of Tristan is truly harrowing. The demands on the dramatic tenor increase with each act, culminating in Act III, nicknamed “Tristan’s act”. The process is the exact opposite for the soprano, with Act I having the sobriquet “Isolde’s act”. Almost all tenors have difficulties with Act III. German Dramatic tenor Tilmann Unger is a much in demand singer who performs Wagnerian heldentenor roles such as Siegfried and Tristan. Endowed with an appealing timbre and magnetic stage presence, he is indeed an excellent choice in the role of Tristan. He was magnificent in the first two acts. However, he showed signs of fatigue in Act III (as is the case with most tenors in this murderous role). Unger astutely used this fatigue to convey Tristan’s moribund condition.
Famous Italian mezzo Daniela Barcellona was a surprise in the role of Brangäne–her first Wagnerian role. Heard recently as Isabella in L’Italiana in Algeri at last year’s Pesaro’s ROF, Italy’s leading Rossini and bel canto mezzo is an impressive singer who is not content to rest on her laurels. Barcellona has made a huge effort to learn and own the role of Brangäne. Endowed with a warm timbre, she easily conveyed Isolde’s lady in waiting maternal and caring side. She impressed with her German diction, a rare feat for Italian singers. Finally, her creamy mezzo contrasted well with Owen’s dramatic soprano.
Italian baritone Nicolò Ceriani portrayed Tristan’s faithful servant touchingly. He has a tendency to sing too loudly, despite the orchestra rarely obscuring the singers, as is often the case in Wagner. This led to a certain imbalance in some of the scenes. An excellent actor, he convincingly conveyed Kurwenal’s lower station; humble, virile but also gruff with Isolde and Brangäne. He portrayed his compassion and despair at his master’s mental and physical condition in Act III.
Russian bass Evgeny Stavinsky was an imposing King Marke. Thanks to his stage presence and posture, he easily conveyed Marke’s royal station. He portrayed the king as avuncular and sagacious. Most likely this was instructed by the director, especially in the final act. In the second act, his lamentation following his discovery of Isolde’s infidelity was heartbreaking. Thanks to Stavinsky’s interpretation and clear diction, it was deeply moving.
Veteran conductor Donato Renzetti (b. 1950) had expressed in an interview years ago that conducting Tristan und Isolde was his dream. Heard last season at La Scala conducting Nino Rota’s Il cappello di paglia di Firenze, Renzetti managed to produce a sparkling elegance more akin to Mozart than light operetta in Rota’s comic opera. Renzetti’s enthusiasm was palpable from the first few bars of this colossal work. His nuanced direction eschewed overpowering sound so as not to obscure the singers, a result of his love for opera and his vast conducting experience. Atypical of Wagner, the result was an Italianate sound, loving but never saccharine or excessive. Unfortunately, the chorus’s diction was insufficiently idiomatic. They also tended to sing too loud, especially in Act I.
This was my third Tristan und Isolde in six months, the previous two being Thorleifur Orn Arnarsson’s poetic staging in Bayreuth in August and Lise Davidsen’s debut in the role last month in Bárbara Lluch’s mediocre staging in Barcelona. Though these were vocally and orchestrally superior, Genova’s production was the most affecting, thanks to Lawrence Dale’s loving and brilliant staging. It’s one I’ll not soon forget.
Ossama el Naggar
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