Philosophy trumps passion in Glyndebourne’s musically excellent Tristan und Isolde

And so for the culmination of Glyndebourne’s 2024 season, opera’s most transcendent romance, a work whose opening bars are among the most studied in musical history. Tristan und Isolde on a balmy sunny day in the countryside seems almost perverse, but to hear Wagner’s iridescent score in the excellent acoustics of the Glyndebourne theatre is a real treat.

Glyndebourne had last programmed Tristan for its 2021 season when, still grappling with the aftermath of COVID, a pared-back semi-staging seemed the only viable option. 2024 marked a full revival under Daniel Dooner of Nikolaus Lehnhoff’s staging, first seen in 2003, now a staple of the Glyndebourne repertoire. Some will disagree, but it is a difficult production to love. The use of lighting is interesting and thoughtful, aptly capturing the underlying philosophical context around the work, but it is otherwise dramatically inert, with interaction among singers limited and decidedly symbolic, killing any real sense of passion other than that generated by the voice. Roland Aeschlimann’s set is cumbersome: steps leading to a swirling frame which is meant to look philosophically weighty but, alas, at times feels more like the Toilet Bowl of Doom. This is directorial excess and it does the audience and Wagner a disservice to remove so much of the rough humanity and raw emotion from the work. Ironically, it is only in Act 3 in Tristan’s long scene with Kurwenal when there is any sense of life and realism; there’s more chemistry on display there than between the two lovers. Still, what a joy to see the final embrace between Tristan and Isolde before he expires: a hug of relief that at last gave a sense of something human between the two. The semi-staging in 2021, also overseen by Dooner, seemed to strike a better balance between personenregie and ritual symbolism.

With the general paucity of interaction between the cast, more emphasis is placed upon the singers to act with their voices. Stuart Skelton is well-known for his facility for Wagner and was deeply impressive as Tristan, showing a warmth and ease to his heldentenor. Dramatic without being parodic, Skelton brought his own shadings of light and dark to his singing, at his best in the massive duet of Act 2 and heaving himself around, wounded, in Act 3. His voice showed a touch of fatigue towards the end of the evening, but always carried above the orchestra, never sounding forced. Miina-Liisa Värelä, who sang Isolde in the 2021 run, initially left me cold, but then as her scene in Act 1 with Tristan developed, so did a wonderful tone of irony and playful mockery. Värelä’s is not the thickest of voices and it showed a touch of astringency at its uppermost reaches, but her Liebestod, delivered from the rear of the stage, was beautifully phrased, with a keen sense of the text.

Karen Cargill had suffered an injury, but gamely sang Brangäne from the wings, while Marlene Lichtenberg walked the role with deft artistry. Cargill is one of those singers whose presence on a cast list immediately inspires confidence and her warm, treacle-rich middle register was ideally suited to the role. Empathy, concern, guilt all suffused her performance as the opera unfolded. Franz-Josef Selig’s Marke was sung well, but impressed rather than moved; a resonant and saturnine lower register combined with regal delivery to create an appealing sound, yet I longed for a sense of the personal betrayal that Marke felt as uncle, rather than the disloyalty to his crown. Shenyang’s dynamic bass-baritone brought welcome energy to Act 3 as Kurwenal, while Samuel Sakker’s insipid Melot was underserved by the production.

The true magic of the evening, though, came from the pit. Robin Ticciati made his Tristan debut back in the 2021 semi-staging and it was a real success. His interpretation has only improved since then. The clarity of playing, an enormous sense of texture, a luminescence: the performance of the London Philharmonic Orchestra was magnificent. The prelude had that sense of ebb and flow, the sensual combined with an intangible feeling of fate. After his inspired performance, the prospect of seeing his Parsifal at Glyndebourne next year has an even greater appeal.