As far as well-known composers of opera go, Wagner stands out for a few reasons, not least of which being that he expressed very solid ideas – convictions – about what this art form actually is. He articulated his beliefs about opera no less vehemently when they happened to change. Tristan und Isolde has the privilege of evidencing the shift that occurred after Wagner’s reading of Schopenhauer, a philosophy that moved him away from his previous Gesamtkunstwerk orientation and towards recognition of music as the fundamental element of communication in opera, more primary than the words or stage action or scenery. And yet, music alone an opera does not make.
The Metropolitan Opera boasts the largest repertory house in the world, filled on Monday night by the promise of great music: Lise Davidsen earned tremendous praise for her debut as Isolde in Spain earlier this year, and conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin also received glowing reviews for his concert performance of the score with the Philadelphia Orchestra last spring. The prospect of a transformative listening experience was enough for audiences keen to hear Michael Spyres make his role debut as Tristan and to brave director Yuval Sharon’s new production.
The world that Sharon places the story in is a very, very strange world. An aperture of sorts opens to reveal elevated cylindrical stages, reminiscent of the concrete vaults used beneath cities to keep utilities separate. Most of the singing is situated within these containers, sometimes lit with colors implying the mood. Between the cylinders and the pit, a sliver of stage features a table, initially attended only by a pair of dancer doubles.
As common as a table is, on the stage it feels forced, or even unwelcome. Much of the action around it seems superfluous or at odds with the story. The dancer couple pursue an intimate moment, abandoning each other right when the music intensifies; the king fondled pieces of a broken plate for eons. These small actions are projected, magnified, above the scene. It feels pedantic, even paternalistic, as if the audience cannot make a connection between ‘shattered’ trust, dreams, realities, without a sustained engagement with the shards. While some of the staging is creative, the most interesting parts compromise the singers’ projection, including that of Davidsen, the strongest voice in the cast and nearly always impeccable when not physically blocked by the set.
Lise Davidsen’s singing was dark and brilliant, a black diamond of a soprano. In the second act, there was even a moment when she transmuted the work into something more evocative of Hildegard, choosing to let her crescendo bloom rather than burst. If her performance was at all flawed, it was limited to parts of the third act, which at times felt mumbled compared to the phenomenal precision, reach and clarity she had displayed earlier.
Spyres proved to be a delightful casting choice, starting off somewhat gently, rising into the Act 2 duet, and delivering power, madness and sweet, trembling deep notes as Tristan thrashed against his oncoming demise. Tomasz Konieczny presented a strong, compelling Kurwenal. Aside from the power of his bass-baritone, his acting sustained a great interplay with the music, interpreting tension, worry and loyal brotherly love with both his posture and his singing.
Down in the pit, Nézet-Séguin kept a healthy pace with the Met Orchestra. There were a few passages with questionable dynamics, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute across four hours of otherwise excellent music.
One great challenge of Tristan and Isolde is that, while the music is primary, something does need to be put up on the stage. Minimalism and abstraction seem like philosophically correct directions. But there is a difference between the subtle and the vague, the serious and the austere, the domestic and the bizarre. It would be believable that Sharon had the intent of creating an experience that transcends the tale’s ancient origins, but he ultimately positions the story neither here nor there, yet still tangibly gets in the way of the music.
