Before decamping for their customary residencies in Colorado and upstate New York, the Philadelphia Orchestra ushered in the warmer months with a complete concert staging of Tristan und Isolde – a choice that gave an entirely new definition to the concept of “summer loving”. In 1934, this ensemble offered the first uncut performances of the opera in the United States, but it had only been heard in excerpted form since then. Now Yannick Nézet-Séguin, preparing to conduct Wagner’s masterwork for the first time at the Met next season, gave himself a test run that proved to be already in perfect shape. Musically, dramatically and vocally, this Tristan set a high benchmark that many opera companies, with limitless resources at their disposal, could only hope to match.
Aside from the interesting local history, the performance held a poignant emotional dimension as well. Nina Stemme, perhaps the world’s reigning Isolde, intends to retire the role after the final concert on 8th June. My initial thought at the first intermission was to wonder why she’d give it up when she still sounds this good, but there’s something to be said for exiting at the top of your game. Stemme demonstrated absolute mastery from her first entrance to her final note, entirely inhabiting the character through voice, gesture and fearless acting choices. Her room-filling soprano remains a penetrating steel beam of sound, and if the occasional high attack sounded a tad sharp, flawless legato and even tone more than compensated.
Even with minimal direction, Stemme utterly convinced the audience that she was Isolde, moving from haughty petulance in the first act to sweeping infatuation with her beloved in the second. She remained thrillingly in character when she was onstage, even making a sip from a discreetly placed water battle in Act 1 seem like a swig of the love potion that binds her eternally to Tristan. Her Narrative and Curse emerged with wild fury, which contrasted beautifully with the rhapsodic stillness of her Liebestod. She even managed a striking visual cue, changing from an austere evening dress to a gunmetal-gray sequined frock for Act 2 – a literal representation of Isolde’s glowing passion.
It surely helped that Stemme had a practiced hand like Stuart Skelton as her Tristan. With stamina to spare, he never sacrificed tonal beauty for volume or vigor, sounding as fresh as when I heard him in this role at the Met a decade ago. Particularly in the demanding third act, Skelton proved a marvel, hushing his voice to a whisper before unleashing a penetrating outburst, representing Tristan’s delirium as he waits for Isolde’s promised return. Skelton and Stemme knew when to pull back and when to explode forth in the Love Duet, holding the crowd rapt. They made an ideal pair.
The entire enterprise was cast from strength, even down to the smallest roles: Lindemann Young Artist Jonghyun Park brought a melting tone to the Sailor’s Voice and the Shepherd, while Curtis Institute graduate student Nathan Schludecker was an urgent Steersman. Karen Cargill’s high-lying mezzo made her a gleaming Brangäne, especially as it sailed from Marian Anderson Hall from her placement in the corner of the third tier during “Einsam wachend in der Nacht”. A veteran of the role, Cargill convinced absolutely as Isolde’s devoted and distraught companion.
The rich-voiced bass Tareq Nazmi made for a deeply sympathetic King Marke, his devastation at Tristan’s betrayal palpable. When Marke returned in the third act to pardon the lovers, he projected a wounded nobility. Brian Mulligan was a dignified Kurwenal, although the orchestra covered him in spots, and Freddie Ballentine deployed his zesty tenor well as the sniveling Melot. The men of the Philadelphia Symphonic Choir made a rich impression in their first-act duties, no doubt benefiting from the participation of guest director Donald Palumbo, the Met’s longtime choir whisperer.
The singers occupied a makeshift platform toward the back of the stage, keeping the orchestra front and center. Good as they were, this felt appropriate – the playing was the true star of the afternoon. After overcoming some fussiness in the layering of sections during the Vorspiel, Nézet-Séguin tapped the full power of this outfit, with waves of luscious violin tone that balanced perfectly the wine-dark, foreboding quality of the lower strings. He culled gorgeous color from the woodwinds in the second act, and English horn soloist Elizabeth Starr Masoudnia was a riveting presence in the opening moments of the third, performing her solos from the choir loft. The orchestra’s energy remained tireless across nearly five hours, and as the soft glow of the Liebestod faded to silence, I wished the music could go on forever.
