|
Back
Love kills Bayreuth
Festspielhaus
08/03/2025 - & August 10, 13, 23, 25, 2025
Richard Wagner: Tristan und Isolde
Andreas Schager (Tristan), Camilla Nylund (Isolde), Günther Groissböck (König Marke), Jordan Shanahan (Kurwenal), Ekaterina Gubanova (Brangäne), Alexander Grassauer (Melot), Lawson Anderson (A Pilot), Daniel Jenz (A shepherd), Matthew Newlin (A young sailor)
Chor der Bayreuther Festspiele, Thomas Eitler‑de Lint (Chorus master), Orchester der Bayreuther Festspiele, Semyon Bychkov (Conductor)
Thorleifur Örn Arnarsson (Stage director), Vytautas Narbutas (Sets), Sibylle Wallum (Costumes), Sascha Zauner (Lighting)
A. Schager, C. Nylund (© Enrico Nawrath)
Tristan und Isolde is a colossal work, not only for its length (six hours, including two one‑hour 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, and he was also conducting an illicit affair with Mathilde, the 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 does not kill, it is not love). This is how Icelandic director Thorleifur Orn Arnarsson sees Isolde’s and then Tristan’s love: a passion so consuming that its only possible outcome is death.
Using impressive visuals in the form of Vytautas Narbutas’s imaginative sets and Sibylle Wallum’s costumes, Arnarsson immediately immerses us in the pathology of Isolde’s love. The first image we see is of Isolde, attired in a stunningly huge white dress, covering a large part of the stage. On it are various scribblings. One can decipher a few words: “Tantris”, “Tristan”, “Rache” (revenge) and “Betrug” (falsehood). Isolde continues to write frantically. How can one not sympathize with a woman who falls in love with the killer of her future spouse, a man who came to invade her land and that she cured back to health?
Isolde’s rage is more against herself than against Tristan, for her love of Tantris/Tristan betrays everything she (the Irish princess) 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 simply too much to bear. Therefore, understandably, Isolde wants to kill those to blame for her downfall: Tristan and herself.
In Arnarsson’s highly imaginative and poetic staging, Brangäne gives Isolde her the vial of poison to serve she and Tristan. In her Act I confrontation with Tristan, it’s understood she offers him poison to atone for his treachery. When he willingly takes the poison and is on the verge of imbibing, Isolde strikes the vial, preventing Tristan from drinking it. She therefore forgives Tristan, as he was ready to die for their love and for his treachery. Herein lies the beauty of this production: no elixir is needed for them to fall madly in love; they already are. This attempted double suicide by poison only makes their passion stronger, unsustainably so. It also puts them in charge of their destinies; they are not mere victims of a potion.
Tristan und Isolde’s plot is simple: an Irish Princess takes pity on Tantris, the knight who killed her betrothed Morold. She tends to him, restoring him 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 a 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, giving 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 just as Tristan is dying, collapsing next to him.
Vytautas Narbutas’s sets were fascinating. The first act opened in the hull of the ship, bringing the Irish princess to her future spouse, King Marke of Cornwall. It looked like an antique shop I’d like to visit: many lovely books, Greek statues, a Roman relief, an ancient map, even a globe. Among the statues was of Poseidon, god of the sea, a relevant artifact, given the first act takes place on a ship. And there was also Plato’s bust, alluding to a love surpassing carnal desire. Finally, there was a Venus de Milo, on which a cage was placed. Once the lovers yield to their passion, Tristan removes the cage, signifying the end of the containment of their passion. When Kurneval announces the ship’s arrival to shore, they’re too besotted to care.
Regarding Sibylle Wallum’s fabulous costumes, Isolde’s dress was not the only coup de génie. While Isolde was in a fantastical dress evocative of the famous illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley (1872‑1898), Tristan and King Marke sported timeless costumes that could be ancient or futuristic. Kurnewal, Melot, and especially Brangäne, were in decidedly contemporary attire. The latter, Isolde’s lady-in-waiting, wore a business suit, indicative of her pragmatism. In Act III, the shepherd was clad in a mysterious white jacket resembling feathers rather than fur, insinuating he might be the Angel of Death hovering over the moribund Tristan.
Act II took place in the same ship’s hull, but it had holes in it, indicating it was unseaworthy, moored in the harbour. In addition to Tristan’s bric‑à‑brac, there was Isolde’s bridal chest containing her huge wedding gown and the unused poison. The state of the ship indicated Act II to be more in the lovers’ minds than in the ship’s hull. If it was meant to be realistic, the contents might have been items the seafaring Tristan collected throughout his travels. If figurative, they’re the memories of both lovers. Arnarsson lets us decide for ourselves.
As the lovers realize their love has no future, and that the only option is death, they’re interrupted when on the verge of drinking the poison. Tristan has a sip but Melot strikes the vial, preventing Isolde from imbibing it, and Tristan’s dose is not immediately fatal.
In Act III, the dying Tristan awaits Isolde one last time before allowing himself to expire. The shepherd, in his feathery coat, is in fact the Angel of Death, and as such remains prominently onstage for most of the act. When Isolde appears, the shepherd retreats, as Tristan enjoys a final bout of energy upon seeing her, and Death retreats temporarily. As Tristan is dying, Isolde takes the poison and dies by Tristan’s side.
Finally, a visionary stage director has a brilliant take on the story, giving the two lovers control of their destiny while staying true to the work’s essence. If more “modernizing” directors followed this goal, opera‑going would be more enjoyable, not to mention stimulating.
In addition to the production’s brilliant staging, costumes and sets, Sascha Zauner’s lighting indicated a perfect understanding of the chiaroscuro elements of the opera. Tristan und Isolde is about love and death, but also about dark and light, as Tristan states in Act II’s duet, the most sublime love duet in all of opera.
The cast came close to perfection, especially the lead singers, Austria’s Andreas Schager as Tristan and Finland’s Camilla Nylund as Isolde. Vocally, the two leading roles are murderously challenging, with both singing throughout most of the work. Tristan earns some respite during Isolde’s long Act I 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.
Andreas Schager is a vocal phenomenon. How can anyone sing Parsifal and Tristan a few days apart? For Schager, all is possible! Heard recently in Vienna as a brilliant Siegfried in both Siegfried and Götterdämmerung, Schager never ceases to impress. Tristan doesn’t require only volume, but also stamina, as he’s required onstage most of the time. The role also calls for expressivity, and Schager certainly has that. By the work’s end, his nuanced interpretation deftly portrayed a man vastly different from the valiant warrior we met in Act I.
Camilla Nylund is an impressive singer who was affecting as Brünnhilde in La Scala’s production of Die Walküre and Siegfried. A veteran dramatic soprano for the past two decades, her voice has developed a distinct metallic quality, but it still holds appeal. Most of all, she knows how to use it to express fury, passion and despair. The Liebestod was supreme, especially in Arnarsson’s staging, where it felt utterly natural, as if it were the only thing possible under the circumstances. Majestic!
Russian mezzo Ekaterina Gubanova, heard a few days earlier in Bayreuth as Kundry in Parsifal, was a warm Brangäne, but not maternal, as is often the case. She was more the caring but responsible older sister to a petulant temperamental Isolde. Her creamy mezzo contrasted well with Nylund’s dramatic soprano. Her diction was especially clear, rendering her lines even more memorable.
Once again, Jordan Shanahan, as Kurwenal, impressed with his versatility. From a clownish Liberace‑like Klingsor in the aforementioned Parsifal, to an utterly moving Barak in Die Frau ohne Schatten in Berlin, this American baritone is as great an actor as he is a singer. His outstanding Kurwenal was virile, yet his sense of love and loyalty were heartfelt. Mirroring Brangäne, this Kurwenal was not a servant, but rather a devoted sibling.
Heard earlier this season as Baron Ochs in Der Rosenkavalier in Milan, Austrian bass Günther Groissböck was a more convincing King Marke than a Baron Ochs, possibly because he’s made the latter his rôle fétiche. As King Marke, Groissböck was suitably regal and poised. His diction was clear and he was attentive to his wording. His powerful interpretation of the Act II lamentation following his discovery of Isolde’s infidelity was heartbreaking.
Russian-born American conductor Semyon Bychkov masterfully helmed the robustly energetic Orchester der Bayreuther Festspiele. The score of Tristan und Isolde is unique in the Wagner canon; the voices dominate and the orchestra accompanies en veilleuse (on the back burner). Even in the orchestral passages, it plays delicately, as if accompanying invisible and inaudible voices, those of the faltering souls of the two legendary lovers.
This was my overall favourite performance of this year’s Bayreuth festival, and one of the finest productions of Tristan und Isolde I’ve ever experienced (and I have seen countless productions of this, my favourite opera). It’s a few days later, and I’m still floating in the memory of its exquisiteness.
Ossama el Naggar
|
