⭐️⭐️

Tristan und Isolde was director Tiago Rodrigues’s first opera production, and on this showing I hope it is his last. His programme notes talk about ‘shifting the public’s gaze on to the opera...without raising your head to read the surtitles’, and some waffle about it being ‘our turn to pass on the legend to the public’. At least Rodrigues realised that is his job, but though he didn’t change the sung text he did interfere irreparably with our understanding of it. The setting was a three-tiered semi-circular archive containing thousands of printed cards on rows of shelves. Two dancers pulled out and displayed the cards to provide us with a running commentary on the action; the words on the cards appear as surtitles. (Were we supposed to look or not?) And that, unfortunately, was the production. Apparently Wagner’s libretto is excessive - ‘il y a trop des mots dans Tristan et Isolde’ - so we were left to appreciate Rodrigues’s new words which were sarcastic in commenting on the waves of music, the endless repetition, the characters’ welter of emotions. The dancers, who had already writhed through the prelude, proved unfortunately indefatigable over their four hours of incessant signage, at times running manically back and forth for their cards before jettisoning them. The cataloguer who walked in the next day must have had a conniption. There was one saving grace visually: José António Tenente’s simple inky-hued costumes were gorgeous and I coveted several.

Photo Credit: Frederic Iovino

In the middle of all of this stood the singers. Act I found them on an upper level, meaning the orchestra drowned them at times, but thankfully they descended for the remainder and were totally audible. Acting was deliberately minimal and it must be challenging to emote with an idiot waving a card behind you stating ‘ils chantent encore’ or ‘l’homme triste respire encore’ and mocking the abundance of pointless German text you are singing. Annemarie Kremer’s Isolde suffered the most at first, though she had broken a foot during rehearsals so maybe her stasis did her a favour. The Narration went for little as she was placed too far back, but the Curse rang out with venom and from the second act she provided golden tone aplenty, still radiant for her Liebestod. Daniel Kramer’s Tristan was similar. At times in Act III the voice was rich and clarion, but for most of the opera he just had to stand and deliver before being buried under a snowdrift of cards. Marie-Adeline Henry was a soprano Brangäne and veered between incisive and squally. Alexandre Duhamel brought unusual elegance to Kurwenal and David Steffens proved a superbly smooth-toned Marke. Cornelius Meister conducted with the pace that was missing onstage and drew spirited playing, with particularly detailed woodwind. The offstage contributions from chorus, brass and cor anglais were deft.