There have been successful productions in which directors have chosen to reduce the acting surface. The objective was always to force a compelling direction of actors in which all conventional operatic gestures would automatically evaporate like snow in the sun. I think of Robert Carsen's La Bohème for the Vlaamse Opera, the second act of Carlus Padrissa's Parsifal in Cologne or the final act of Dmitry Tcherniakov's Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk in Lyon. That same scenographic-dramaturgical condensation of the play by placing the characters in a narrow space is also the starting point of this Tristan und Isolde that Barrie Kosky and Klaus Grünberg designed in 2006 for the Aalto Musiktheater in Essen. In his autobiography, the director labels the piece as his favorite Wagner opera. Just as his opera-loving grandmother whispered to him. "In Tristan, the sea and water play a central role. But the water is already in the orchestra, in the music," Kosky says. "I don't need to bring it up again scenically, visually on stage, when it is already present through the sound." That's a somewhat simplistic argument. Illustration is often redundant in the theater but it can also be very powerful if the result of the director's imagination is able to provoke the spectator's imagination.
Isolde's cabin in the ship that carries her to the green beaches of Cornwall is only 3 meters by 3 meters. It is a cube-shaped room that seems to float in a raven-black space, internally illuminated with Grünberg's warm ambient light. An old gramophone, a sink, a fruit bowl and a seat fill the space; a narrow door is the only access to the outside world. In this claustrophobic space, Isolde will confront Tristan with a glass jar in which she keeps the head of her fiancé Morold. It is also immediately clear that the room acts as an acoustically advantageous space, like a sound funnel that slightly amplifies the voices of the soloists. Wonderful is the way Kosky directs the scene change between Isolde's cabin and that of Tristan and his toasting crew, united in their love for Bacchus. Brangäne is almost raped by the tipsy Kurwenal.
The death potion is a poisonous green "menthe à l'eau" in a tumbler glass that Brangäne manages to swap just in time for the more innocent-looking love potion. The intoxication resulting from the love potion, or rather the illusion of having drunk the death potion, leads to hand contact followed by a close embrace. The hastily improvised white wedding garment that Isolde puts on in the face of meeting King Marke includes an infinite bridal veil draped around her like a rock. The invisible male chorus sounds from the highest side balcony. It also sounds somewhat rough and unnatural. Could it be that their voices came from loudspeakers? In general, all voices from the wings sound a bit underpowered. Is it because the backstage space is very large in the Aalto theater? The young sailor's voice and Brangäne's night watch could have sounded with more effect from the auditorium.
The first act is the most innovative from a scenic point of view. Little happens in the second act except that the room with gray floral wallpaper, which now represents Isolde's room, with only a fruit bowl and a ceiling lamp, turns on its axis during the love duet. Very slowly at first, becoming faster and faster as the tension builds. Their love turns their world upside down, and throughout the duet the lovers will be forced to find their balance on their hands and knees. After one turn and a half, the mobile house comes to a halt and the frustrated king, the compelling symbol of the day, is standing in the room. In fact, the opposition between day and night is removed and replaced by stillness and rotation of the imaginary framework of Tristan and Isolde's world.
The oppressive claustrophobic atmosphere is partially broken up at the beginning of the third act. The house that now represents Kareol is absorbed into the dark stage-wide landscape of a rural meadow with grazing sheep. The shepherd also makes a brief appearance while Kurwenal sews up his master's wound with surgical talent. Again, the movement dramaturgy of the agonizing Tristan is able to take advantage of the narrowness of space, a space from which he will finally escape. It is an image befitting his redemption in death. Kosky has his own way of depicting Isolde's final transfiguration: the dead rise and quietly leave the stage, Isolde sings her love's death in a Kosky tracking spot after which she lays herself to rest beside Tristan's body.
Bryan Register was the actual magnet that had lured me to Essen. I had not forgotten the maddening intensity of his Brussels Tristan (2019) but it is Catherine Foster who will be the sensation of the evening. The timbre is warm, the command of vibrato is total, passagio problems are virtually non-existent. The dramatic outbursts are all overwhelming, from the Rache exclamations to "Es werde Nacht." And she sings all the consonants. Never is she drowned out by the orchestra. Her soprano continues to cut through the air. Even in the mezza voce sections, the voice manages to project sufficiently. It's quite impressive how she counters the orchestral crescendo after her arrival in Kareol ("Zu spät! Trotziger Mann"). And she finishes off with a perfect Liebestod. Who can do better ?
Bryan Register has the ideal timbre for Tristan, beautiful, warm and baritonal. And he, too, sings all the consonants. In the first act he sounds promising but in the second act he saves himself very much for the murderous third act. In the love duet he is then also outclassed by his Isolde. Interpretatively he still manages to enchant but in the power sections he has to let the orchestra go first. Things do not get really exciting during the highly dramatic passages of the third act. He is at his best in the mezza voce sections where he can continue to put the lyrical interpretative qualities and his beautiful timbre to use. Register will be the Götterdämmerung-Siegfried at La Monnaie next season.
Sebastian Pilgrim's sonorous bass sounds slightly rough and battered. This allows him to portray both the noblesse of a king and the repulsiveness of a villain. He closes Marke's monologue with a very strong finale. "Erwache meinem Jammer" in the finale was also a strong closing for him. Heiko Trinsinger's expressive baritone has a timbre similar to Fischer-Dieskau's, and he also articulates the part with a similar attitude. Perhaps Fischer-Dieskau is his great role model. With his firmly projecting voice, he sometimes overpowers Tristan in the third act. Bettina Ranch also sings an excellent Brangäne with real mezzo-power.
I had never been to the beautiful Aalto Theater before, with its wood-paneled deep blue walls and milky white balconies. I have not been able to find statistics on reverberation time, but the hall certainly does not sound dry. Andrea Sanguineti takes the prelude slowly but with excitement. This is actually applicable to the entire rest of his reading of the piece. Seconds-long fermata do not deter him. The energetic conducting style with which he threw himself into the prelude almost made one suspect that he would not make it to the end. The unreal atmosphere after consuming the love potion he lets emerge from an almost inaudible pianissimo. Why some spectators were booing for the jubilee Essener Philharmonie (they have been around for 125 years!) is a mystery to me.