Tristan und Isolde, with Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Philharmonia Orchestra, Festival Hall, September 2010

This concert performance has intriguing extra features: lighting that can illuminate singers or plunge them into darkness, appearances of performers from off-stage positions, and remarkable video projections by Bill Viola. In the overture all was dark . . . until the voice of the young sailor emerged from the side of the auditorium, and the lights shone on Isolde and Brangäne on stage. Then the video projections started, showing water, fire, earth and sky.

Anyone who has seen David Lean’s film Lawrence of Arabia will know that wonderful moment at the beginning when a distant figure appears shimmering on the horizon. I was reminded of it in Act I when, after scenes of the sea, the video projections showed two windows through which we see two dots on the horizon. These two separate vanishing points turn into tiny figures walking towards us — a man and a woman. Act III later produces an even closer approximation to Lawrence of Arabia when Tristan lies dying. As he sings “Isolde lebt” a shimmering figure appears as if in a mirage, clothed in a long blue robe with a red headscarf covering her face. She vanishes and then reappears when he asks Kurwenal whether he can’t see the ship, “Kurwenal, siehst du es nicht?”, only to vanish and reappear again with “Das Schiff? Sähst du’s noch nicht?”. This vision, as if from the Arabian Nights, is never quite real, until the off-stage trumpet sounds, the trombones play, the tuba rumbles, and the screen is a mass of flames almost silhouetting the robed figure, before she falls into water. Isolde’s ship has arrived.

When staging this opera it is difficult to do anything that remotely assists Wagner’s extraordinary music, so in a sense one might as well have a concert performance, but I thought the video projections added to it in many places. In Act II we see a dark wood in which lamps move around searching for the lovers, and then we are looking straight up at the sky to see a full moon shining on the trees. A full moon is at its zenith at midnight. “Rette dich, Tristan!” is sung from a side balcony, and Melot calmly walks on stage. As Marke appears the lights go out on Melot, and during Marke’s monologue we see dawn slowly emerge, reminding me of Giselle when dawn breaks and the wilis’ power vanishes, just as the union of Tristan and Isolde disappears in the daylight. This opera is about the lovers’ desire for permanent night, well captured by Isolde when she sings, “dem Licht des Tages wollt’ ich entfliehn, dorthin in die Nacht dich mit mir ziehn”, showing her desire to flee from daylight to night with Tristan, but it is not yet to be.

In the early part of Act III the video projections show clouds looking almost extra-terrestrial, reminding me of Homer’s Odyssey where Odysseus journeys to mysterious islands in the back of beyond. This was somehow an enchanted island removed from the normal world of daylight. But I have said nothing yet of the main feature — the music.

Esa-Pekka Salonen produced glorious sounds from the Philharmonia, giving us moments of explosive tension and of gentle lyricism. Gary Lehman sang a wonderful Tristan — what a marvellous find he is — and Jukka Rasilainen was a superb Kurwenal, recalling his excellent performance of the same role at Bayreuth last year. Matthew Best was a warm and strong King Marke, as I expected having heard his superb La Roche in Capriccio this summer, to say nothing of his excellent Ramfis in Aida two years ago. As Isolde, Violeta Urmana sang strongly, rising well above the orchestra when necessary, and Anne Sophie von Otter was arguably the best Brangäne I have ever seen. Her face and body language was superb, and her singing was warmly lyrical and perfectly suited to this Wagnerian mezzo role. The whole cast did a wonderful job, with Stephen Gadd as Melot and Joshua Ellicott brilliant as both the shepherd in Act III and the young sailor in Act I.

The conception for this staging is due to Peter Sellars who produced a more elaborate version for the Bastille Opera in Paris, collaborating with Bill Viola on the video projections. At the Festival Hall this was a dress rehearsal, and although the main performance on 26^th September is already sold out you can still find a few seats available in Dortmund, Luzern, and Birmingham. It’s worth booking immediately and then finding a train or plane to get you there — the dates are: Luzern on September 10, Dortmund on September 17, Birmingham on September 22, and finally London on September 26.

Aida, Metropolitan Opera live relay, October 2009

This is not my favourite Verdi opera, but the production by Sonja Frisell was magnificent, with huge sets designed by Gianni Quaranta, glorious costumes by Dada Saligeri, and lighting by Gil Wechsler — a heavy weight production well matched by the singers, who were superb. Johan Botha was a powerful and lyrical Radames, with Violeta Urmana a strong Aida, and Carlo Guelfi singing and acting with passion as her father Amonasro. Ramfis the high priest was strongly portrayed by Roberto Scandiuzzi with excellent stage presence, and the king was Štefan Kocán. His daughter Amneris, full of dangerous jealousy and scheming, was very well sung by Dolora Zajick, and her lament against the cold condemnation of Radames by the priests soared brilliantly above the orchestra — one could not hear better.

The processions in Act II were marvellous, including horses and a bier of dead bodies, to say nothing of what appeared to be a greater quantity of participants than were really available. And the dances were very well choreographed by Alexei Ratmansky, director of the Bolshoi, who took up a position as artist in residence with American Ballet Theatre in January. Visually this was a stunning production, and musically it worked superbly under the direction of Daniele Gatti.

These cinema screenings by the Met are a delight to watch, and Renee Fleming, who introduced it all and conducted the interviews, put out an appeal for donations. I think one should support ones local opera company, but certainly Ms. Fleming is an engaging mistress of ceremonies, and her interview of Dolora Zajick should be recorded for the lessons it might yield to future interviewees. The cinema erupted in laughter more than once, though I don’t think Ms. Zajick had intended a comedy act.

Ariadne auf Naxos, Deutsche Oper Berlin, Feb 2009

When this started, silently, with dancers in practice togs marking steps on stage, I thought it might be another disaster, like Salome the night before. But then an orchestra came in, and by the end I was in tears. Fortunately the applause went on for ages, allowing plenty of time to recover and cheer.

This imaginative and coherent production by Robert Carsen sets the opera in modern times, complete with a mobile phone at one point, and it’s the only time I’ve seen the richest man in Vienna actually appear on stage. He enters with the Major Domo and they take tea, watching the dancers practicing. When the Major Domo finally speaks he is the impresario ordering the entertainments to take place as he and his master desire, and things take on a very realistic feel. It gradually builds until Zerbinetta, gloriously sung and acted by Jane Archibald, charms the composer, beautifully portrayed by Ruxandra Donose, persuading her to go ahead with the farce that’s been ordered. This dialogue took place against a black backdrop at a 45 degree angle, with lighting from below focusing on the characters, and it provided a very effective turning point to events. After it was over the composer came into the auditorium, made her way along the front row, handed a copy of the score to the conductor, and went to the corner of the stage to follow events. A spot stayed on her for the rest of the performance.

With no interval, the second part went straight ahead. The performers were in black, except for some funny nonsense with wigs, masks, and changing clothes by Zerbinatta’s followers, and the dancers from the silent prologue reappeared in several ways, with the men doing a charming number with Zerbinetta. At one point she appeared in the auditorium and went to hug the composer, cementing the rapport they’d found at the end of the first part. Finally Ariadne and Bacchus sang in front of a completely white background, Zerbinetta crossed the stage with her final comments, the curtain fell, and as the last notes came out of the orchestra, the composer reopened the curtains to enter a completely blank stage. The audience were so stunned that the applause took a while to start. As soon as it did, the dancers came on to lift the composer and carry her forward to celebrate the success of her composition.

Ariadne was well sung by Violeta Urmana, Bacchus by Roberto Sacca, and I found Matthias Bundshuh particularly good as the Major Domo. The orchestra played with clarity and emotion under the excellent baton of Jacques Lacombe. This was a great performance of Ariadne.