Chorus of the Grand Théâtre de Genève
Orchestre de la Suisse Romande/Jordan Armin
Cast: Tristan: Clifton Forbis; Isolde: Jeanne-Michèle Chabonnet; Brangäne: Mihoko Fujimura; Kurwenal: Albert Dohmen; King Mark: Alfred Reiter; Melot: Philippe Duminy; Seeman/Hirt: David Sotgiu
Studio: Bel Air Classiques (distr. by Harmonia Mundi)
Video: 16:9 enhanced, all zones
Audio: Dolby Digital 5.1; PCM Stereo
Subtitles: English
Extras: 2 DVDs (including documentary), 32-page booklet
Length: 274 minutes
Rating: ***
At last, here is a modern production of a Wagner opera that is both accessible and easy to enjoy. There is the usual symbolism (a skull, flowers, a crown) and a few extraneous people (a boy, a woman in white, a ghostly knight), but this is well integrated with the stark stage design and the dynamic acting style. Both the plot and the music are accorded great care and respect. Olivier Py, an intense, youthful director, emphasizes the dramatic contrast between night and day (a major philosophical theme in this work) by using only two colors throughout the music drama: black and white.
Act 1 opens with Isolde and Brangäne on the deck of a nondescript black modern cruiser, with stairs winding up and down like in an Escher drawing. Both women are red-haired, though their acting styles are a study in contrasts. Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet as Isolde is fierce, defiant, and queenly. Mihoko Fujimara as Brangäne is restrained and looks upon Isolde’s emotional upheavals with a skeptical eye. Their hairstyles reinforce these differences. Whereas Isolde’s is wild, curly, and unruly, Brangäne’s is carefully coiffed and utterly soigné. Vocally, the American soprano Charbonnet is a full-throated and passionate dynamo. Yet she is also capable of softness. Isolde’s Narrative, for instance, is sung with sweet expression. Fujimura’s lighter and more pleasant voice is a departure from convention, but it doesn’t mar the performance in any way. And Clifton Forbis as Tristan displays unexpected and interesting vocal colors in this act. The camera work, with its odd angles, reenacts the vertigo of a sea voyage. And after the principals have drunk the love potion, the image temporarily turns into a negative, giving the singers an unearthly, surreal look. There are also numerous claustrophobic close-ups, which become annoying after a while. And the cameraman’s single-minded focus on the singers’ hands is puzzling.
During the prelude of Act 2, Charbonnet gets up from her bed and places a white flower in her hair, which she then takes off. The black room she is in (taking the place of the forest) is sparsely decorated, with a black armoire and a black sink (surely an anachronism). Fujimura grimaces unpleasantly. Here Charbonnet’s singing seems effortful and a bit uneven. While she waits on the black bed for Tristan’s arrival, she hyperventilates to the beat of the music and clenches her fists. She seems to be having an orgasm in anticipation of Tristan’s arrival. When Tristan appears, he takes off her long black dress, revealing the white shift underneath. They walk to the left of the cavernous stage and enter a white room. The décor here is exactly the same as the black one. She beckons him to join her in bed, and he complies. At this point, it would have served them better to concentrate more on the singing and less on the sexual act. Alas, they can barely get through the excerpt starting with “O sink hernieder,” surely the most passionate in opera. Their performance is effortful, uneven, and heavy, with a wobbly vibrato in the tenor. And for some reason, Forbis never takes off his black leather vest. So instead of becoming immersed in this magical duet, the viewer/listener remains aloof from the action and retains a healthy dose of skepticism. Alas, even Brangäne’s call does not produce the requisite frissons. Soon enough, they are in a burnt room and lying on a heap of rubble. Presumably, their fiery passion has turned everything to ashes. Fortunately, here Forbis’s wobble has disappeared and only a heroic timbre remains. What a change! Charbonnet gazes longingly at a white skull while Forbis sings of death. Their voices don’t quite meld; there is no unity of sound here. Alfred Reiter as the aggrieved King Mark (in a fur coat) is quite decent and sings sensitively. However, he seems aloof and evokes no sympathy for his plight. Philippe Duminy as Melot sports a retractable knife rather than a sword.
So far, Jordan Armin’s conducting has been tame and uninteresting. In the prelude to Act 3, however, it picks up and turns appropriately somber and moody, though still lacking in depth. Albert Dohmen is a hefty-voiced Kurwenal, stern and unsympathetic. David Sotgiu as the Shepherd is fresh-voiced and pleasant. Tristan’s blood-stained bed is surrounded by water. A woman in white emerges from the pool and walks away. There is also a little boy, who wears a crown on his head. Presumably, the woman in white is Tristan’s mother (who died giving birth to him), and the boy is Tristan as a child. The lighting, water, camera angles, negatives, and bizarre people who dive in and out of the water are quite distracting and disorienting. Forbis, soaked in blood and with hooded eyes, has a haunted, mournful look, which serves him well here. Unfortunately, his singing is choppy. He has trouble with legatos and briefly loses control of his voice a couple of times. With Charbonnet, we are in more secure hands, both vocally and in her stage presence. Her Liebestod is quite decent, and she looks transfixed at the end.
Perhaps the best part of this Tristan und Isolde is the 52-minute documentary by Benoît Rossel, one of the best of its kind. Here Director Oliver Py describes (in French, with English subtitles) the opera as “music that slowly poisons you. No one can resist it because it’s the most beautiful music ever written. The peak of Western art.” We also see the enormous amount of work that goes on behind the scenes, from the director to the technicians to the coat-check attendants to the stage sweepers. And we are privy to Clifton Forbis rehearsing and practicing his blocking. All the while, we hear Wagner’s glorious music. For anyone interested in stagecraft, this documentary is a must.
-Dalia Geffen
