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BY JAMES McQUILLEN
Tristan
und Isolde by Richard
Wagner Tenor Gary Lakes sings Tristan
in
As the curtain rose on Seattle Opera's new production of Tristan und Isolde to reveal a massive ship's hull topped by a deck railing, I couldn't help but wonder if the Wagner cult had belatedly fallen victim to Titanic fever. The opera does, after all, provide abundant opportunities to capitalize on audiences' familiarity with the James Cameron film: Both are long and lavish, and both involve unhappily betrothed heroines who become involved in relationships that prove doomed, at least in the earthly realm. Both are also about destruction: In one, a colossal and luxurious vessel disappears into the dark depths of the North Atlantic; in the other, an impossibly prodigious love converges with death, sinking in a swirling, chromatic maelstrom. Moments into the first act, a section of the ship slides away, but there the similarities cease: Seated below deck is no Kate Winslett-like waif, but rather Jane Eaglen, a vast woman whose voice alone is bigger than any mere mortal. Eaglen, as Isolde, is half the reason that this Tristan has distinguished itself nationally as the operatic event of the year; the other half is Ben Heppner, the remarkable tenor in the role of Tristan. The two have rightly been heralded as the modern exemplars of the Wagnerian voice, powerful enough to rise above Wagner's lush, swollen orchestration and musical enough to ease into it, blurring the distinction--one of many the composer strove to overcome--between singer and orchestra. Because the title roles carry the immense weight of the opera for most of its four hours, the attention directed at Eaglen and Heppner is richly deserved, but the supporting cast is also exceptionally strong. As Marke, Tristan's king and Isolde's intended, Peter Rose is grave and majestic, projecting an inviolable, solemn sovereignty. Greer Grimsley, as Tristan's friend and servant, Kurwenal, gives Heppner firm vocal support, and Michelle DeYoung brings to the role of Isolde's attendant, Brangäne, both a clear, powerful voice and a stage presence with a dancer's sensibility. Like their voices, they are all larger than life, a human mountain range; I wouldn't have been surprised to find Christo listed in the credits as costume designer. (Had this cast been deployed as bumpers off her bow, the Titanic would probably have arrived safely in New York Harbor.) Commanding and thoughtful performances do ample justice to this Tristan in all respects but one: The central passion that fuels the story is oddly sexless. The muted ardor is most evident in Act II, when the lovers are meant to explore the frontiers of connubiality both physically and metaphysically; the music makes clear that their discovery by Marke's hunting party is a case of coitus interruptus. Heppner and Eaglen easily get the point across musically, but reclining on a sofa, they suggest a long-married couple sitting down in front of the television. The fault appears to lie with Eaglen, whose presence is dominating, but in a passive way. Heppner, in contrast, is a master of physical expression; a superb actor, he takes his character through a process of profound transformation over the course of the opera, and his lengthy delirium in the third act is astonishing. Direction and design are well integrated in the production from early on. The second half of the hull opens in Act I to reveal a cell-like enclosure in which most of the opera takes place; it serves as an apt metaphor for the couple's situation while at the same time allowing director Francesca Zambello to keep the action focused. Allison Chitty's monumental sets are spare in a way that is simultaneously modern and mythic, though there are a couple of elements she might have done without, both of which have oddly corporate resonances. The red stain on the screen that symbolizes Tristan's mortal wound resembles a melting Nike swoosh, and the eye-wearying incandescent golden arch that descends to frame the lovers implies a different sort of hunger than the one they're singing about. Mimi Jordan Sherin's gorgeous lighting design reveals alternately the interiority and expansiveness of the drama with a constantly varying palette--Wagner with a mood ring. Small wonder that audiences of 1865 were challenged by Wagner's scores, which elicited a famous remark from American humorist Bill Nye (though it's commonly misattributed to Mark Twain): "I have heard that Wagner's music is better than it sounds." In place of clearly defined themes, he places a succession of motifs, stillborn melodies, that provide a path of crumbs leading through the dense primeval forest of the music. It is still challenging, even to modern ears, but like the singers, conductor Armin Jordan approaches it thoughtfully; under his baton, it is highly sensuous, and it also makes sense. Seattle Opera's Tristan und Isolde is like Titanic in one further respect: At $750,000, it was terrifically expensive to produce (as will be the upcoming Ring cycle, for which the company is raising over $8 million). It has been money well spent, as there should no longer be any doubt that Seattle Opera is in the upper echelon of its field. Tortured love and death have rarely been so wildly successful.
originally published August 12, 1998 |
