Much has been written about Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, and for various reasons. It is one of the most compelling love stories of all time, with roots stretching back to Celtic times. It represents a complete break with musical tradition and the harmonic language used up to that point: after Tristan nothing was ever the same again. It also has an intimidating philosophical and psychological underpinning, also tapping into the emergence of existentialism. It explores the most powerful of thematic triads: life, love and death. And, as with all great artistic works, it lends itself to diverse accents, approaches and interpretations. In a programme note for this staging for the Grimeborn Opera Festival, the director Guido Martin-Brandis introduces the idea that Isolde is a war bride, a woman who has fallen in love with the warrior that killed her previous betrothed. Apart from a few nods to military uniform – charcoal-coloured outer garments with red-and-gold epaulettes, and a purple sash for Marke, this isn’t something which is explored further.
Miniaturisation in the modern world has already taken us down a path of linear development. A stretch too far perhaps? Chamber versions of operas are nothing new, but this was the first time I have encountered a substantial operatic work, lasting even with several cuts for over four hours and with more than 5000 bars of music to traverse, being performed by a piano quintet (with an upright rather than concert grand), tucked away in an alcove, albeit with a conductor in charge. The only other instrumental colour comes from an off-stage oboe and recorded hunting horns. Does this reduction work? For all the repeated string tremolos and ostinato patterns, scales being ascended and descended at speed, and a piano that has its own imposing repertory of dramatic chords, trills and rippling arpeggios, the music is still recognisably there. It grows and swells as passion develops; it ebbs away in moments of disappointment and depression; it characterises mood through choice sonorities, as when at the opening of Act 3 each of the stringed instruments explores sombreness in the deepest registers; it conveys agony and ecstasy in equal measure right up to the heart-rending departure in Isolde’s Liebestod.
This is Wagner in your own living-room. Or almost. What worked so well in Regents Opera’s production of The Ring earlier this year in terms of an immersive experience, is not quite matched here. There is another central performing space, with an audience of at most a couple of hundred grouped on three sides, the brick walls and metal-framed gallery (which does as a kind of wheelhouse) of the Arcola Theatre giving the setting a distinctly industrial look. White linen drapes suspended from the ceiling – itself a grid-arrangement of poles to accommodate the lighting – act as sails (a model boat is quickly removed) in Act 1, the suggestion of a boudoir in Act 2 and as a method of enveloping the dying Tristan in Act 3. A wall of tin foil serves as a reflective surface, which is then scrunched up around an arrangement of pallets for the final act. These pallets are used earlier as supports for the few props, such as the wooden casket containing Isolde’s magic potions, or what passes for a prototypical cabin trunk, and also for the suggestion of a bed in Act 2, adorned with colourful throws and cushions, looking after the exertions of love-making like something from a Tracey Emin collection. I did find the noisy ventilation very intrusive, though on an extraordinarily sultry night when beads of perspiration on the singers soon became rivulets, and the audience resorted to home-made fanning techniques, anything less would surely have led to the arrival of a fleet of ambulances.
The costumes are not uniformly coherent. Isolde wears a flowing sea-green gown, with little apart from a thin diadem placed on her head at one point by Brangäne to indicate her noble birth; Kurwenal could just about pass muster as a sailor; Tristan sports a red neckerchief somewhat at odds with his supposed military function. The staging is marked by varying degrees of success. Both the Isolde of Elizabeth Findon and the Tristan of Brian Smith Walters use body language very effectively throughout, arms and hands invariably expressive, culminating in palms pressed together, bound tightly by a shawl, in Act 2. After the magic love potion has taken hold towards the conclusion of Act 1, Tristan’s earlier grim demeanour transforms itself into a broad sunlit smile. What needs some attention is how the other characters react to the arrival of Marke’s hunting-party in Act 2: everything becomes very static at this stage, with Melot motionless for most of the time, and Brangäne, Kurwenal and Tristan in a state of torpor. However, all the physical confrontations, including Melot spitting in Tristan’s face and the fight scenes, are highly realistic. The lighting could have benefited from more subtle transitions. Rosy and then violet tones were fine for the Act 2 love-scene, but I was not at all convinced by the lurid effects on all the tin foil at the close of the opera.
Nothing defines a production more than the quality of the singing. Here, having mostly first-rate soloists crowned this performance, though I do have some reservations about the use of unmoderated operatic voices in such a confined space. The neighbours would very soon have been hammering on the walls in an attempt to reduce the volume, whereas those in the living-room would already have been reaching for their ear defenders. That said, both Tristan and Isolde were ideally matched. Smith Walters has a touch of graininess in the voice, often emphasising steel-edged heroic qualities yet fully encompassing warmer baritonal shadings, a fluidity of expressive line, and the capacity to present a gamut of emotions allied to incredible vocal stamina. He goes through utter disdain and antipathy towards Isolde, his gradual acquiescence in her demand that they both drink atonement, the growing tenderness of their exchanges following the effects of the love potion, the moving manner in which he recalls the early deaths of his parents, the waves of uncontrollable passion stretching through all the pathos of Act 3 as he lies dying, clutching his Amfortas-like wounds that have already stained his tunic, his delirium and then inexpressible joy at Isolde’s arrival.
Findon’s portrayal of Isolde is another class act of total identification with the character. In Act 1 she is feisty, wilful and conflicted, the brilliance of her top register commanding attention, but as she plots the downfall of Tristan through her planned potion of poison she also displays wonderfully dark and smoky chest tones. In their Act 2 love-duet she and Tristan are in a world entirely of their own making, oblivious to the danger lurking in the background, the rapture not imposed but deeply felt, and she too has considerable vocal reserves to do full justice to the Liebestod, having cradled Tristan in her lap and now lying over his dead body. Why does the Liebestod matter so much musically? Because from that unresolved Tristan chord at the very beginning, Wagner keeps his audience in limbo, resolution denied again and again until all tension and uncertainty finally dissolve.
Lauren Easton sang a very warm and engaging Brangäne, attentive to all Isolde’s needs, but especially spirited when she acted as a windbreak during Isolde’s storm of conflicted energy in Act 1; cursed the consequences of the “poisoned” drink at the start of Act 2; and repeatedly warned Isolde of Melot’s hostile machinations. Kurwenal is Tristan’s trusted servant: in this role Oliver Gibbs was at times a little too forceful, the slightly uneven delivery mirrored in the jerky body language, his German not achieving the same idiomatic ideal of the others. However, his acting ability served him well throughout, not least in the tenderness and care he displayed towards the dying Tristan. Simon Wilding as Marke had authority in his voice, though not quite disguising the occasional tremor, and he too was receptive to the emotional demands of the role. Immediately after the coitus interruptus in Act 2 intense disappointment was etched in both face and voice; nobility of utterance informed his uniting of the two lovers in death.
And so, at the end, rather like the conclusion to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the stage is strewn with dead bodies. Yet what shines through all the preceding turbulence is the power of love. This is how Wagner conceived his grand idea in a letter to Liszt in 1854: “Since I have never in my life enjoyed the true happiness of love, I intend to erect a further monument to this most beautiful of dreams, a monument in which this love will be properly sated from beginning to end.”
Alexander Hall
Tristan und Isolde
Music drama (Handlung) in three acts by Richard Wagner, and with a libretto by the composer based on a medieval romance by Gottfried von Strassburg
Sung in German and with English surtitles
A ShatterBrain and Regents Opera Ltd production for Grimeborn Festival Opera
Cast and production staff:
Tristan – Brian Smith Walters; Isolde – Elizabeth Findon; Kurwenal – Oliver Gibbs; Brangäne – Lauren Easton; König Marke – Simon Wilding; Melot, Young Sailor, Shepherd – David Horton
Calyssa Davidson (violin); Sofia Yatsyuk (violin); Cameron Howe (viola); Alison Holford (cello); Jon Musgrave (piano)
Director – Guido Martin-Brandis; Musical Director & Arranger – Michael Thrift; Designer – Caitlin Abbott; Lighting Designer – Davy Cunningham; Assistant Musical Director – Panaretos Kyriatzidis; Production Manager – Tricia Wey; Stage Manager – Louisa Wright; Assistant Stage Manager – Walter Hall; Lighting Programmer – Eli Hunt; Surtitler – Ruth Elleson; Producer – C.J. Heaver
Arcola Theatre, London, 13 August 2025
Top image: Isolde (Elizabeth Findon)
All photos © Steve Gregson
Further performances until 16 August