SANTA FE, NM — The play of light has always been a part of the show at the Santa Fe Opera: the majestic open-sided theater at the foot of the hills makes drama of the darkening of the sky and the lighting of the stars, even the flash of a hopefully distant storm.
But in Santa Fe’s admirably understated, lovingly faithful new “Tristan und Isolde,” the summer home’s first Wagner in over 30 years and his only foray yet into the composer’s dramas beyond “The Flying Dutchman,” comes the light. to be central.
Day and night lie at the heart of ‘Tristan’, the former representing the eye-catching, intrusive reality from which Tristan and Isolde try to escape in their love, the latter their ‘wonderful realm’, as Tristan sings of it, of freedom , of passion and finally of oblivion.
There was a time when that metaphor was treated as at least somewhat replaceable; in deference to the stamina of singers, Wagner’s longest treatise on the philosophical metaphor, in act two, was traditionally cut short.
But the incompatibility of the worlds of light and dark is taken as the organizing principle in Santa Fe’s “Tristan,” with subtle projections from Greg Emetaz that build on smart lighting from John Torres. Co-directed by the hotshots Lisenka Heijboer Castañón and Zack Winokur, it contrasts bright white with pitch black and often lingers in the shades in between.
The result is filled with striking, poignant images. For example, we meet Tristan as a towering silhouette, a projection on which Isolde can fix her grievances; that image resonates hours later, as the shadow of the absent Isolde runs along the walls of Tristan’s hallucinating mind.
Much of the first act takes place in a cramped light box, as Isolde is trapped on her journey to marry King Marke. When she reveals that she never killed Tristan to avenge his murder of Morold, her fiancé, spotlights follow her as she explores the encroaching darkness. Tristan, when he finally deigns to see her, is already in the shadows of the night. It doesn’t take a drink to fall in love – just to reveal what they both already know.
This kind of touch is softly allusive and suggests an atmosphere rather than pretending a grand interpretation. But that’s the point. Heijboer Castañón, a Dutch-Peruvian director who assisted, among others, Pierre Audi on this opera in Amsterdam, and Winokur, known as the artistic director of the rebellious American Modern Opera Company, welcome a work that is often treated skeptically or, ironically, or illegible. made in impenetrable symbolism.
Heijboer Castañón and Winokur offer no drastic interventions in the plot, only a delicate understanding of it as a story of intimacies, both friendly and erotic. The few props out there are used lightly. The spare set, from blueprints by architecture and design firm Charlap Hyman & Herrero, consists of four slanted walls of mottled gray — recesses that evoke a castle tower, for example, but no more than that. Carlos J. Soto’s costumes refer to abstraction, instead of making distance the goal.
There’s a refreshing sense of confidence, a sensible desire not to get in the way of what remains clearly a human story for these young collaborators – and a willingness, perhaps above all, to make room for the music.
And why not?
James Gaffigan, typically brisk on stage for what is his first run of a full Wagner opera, set off a snappy intensity that delivered the energy the staging tended to resist, pushing the drama hard but not hard. His take on the score was both muscular and fast, luckily for a show that ended well past midnight.
More experience could give a more deliberate harmonic and thematic direction, perhaps more purpose for transitions and more willingness to stick around, just as making Wagner a habit rather than an exception, eventually some of the rougher edges of the orchestra could wipe out. to play. Either way, the signs are promising for Gaffigan, who will be in charge of the Komische Oper in Berlin next year.
Never mind the future when it comes to soprano Tamara Wilson. Known as a Verdian, she will sing Elsa next spring at the Metropolitan Opera’s Lohengrin and soon after Sieglinde in Vienna; this Isolde, amply powerful and yet ideally accurate with the text, already confirmed her as a decent Wagnerian.
Cornered, angry, hateful, fearful, anxious, excited, delighted, serene, each in turn – Wilson’s rendition, like Jamie Barton’s magnificent Brangäne, was as authoritatively played as it was movingly sung, an embodiment of the part in a production that drew incessant attention to its patrons.
Simon O’Neill, an unwieldy stage presence, suffered from that relentless focus in the first two acts; in his third, he outdid himself, but the sharp, compressed quality of his voice still seemed less suitable to Tristan than some of the roles he took in Wagner’s service.
The relentless loudness of Nicholas Brownlee, otherwise a fine Kurwenal and the Dutchman in a David Alden production scheduled here for next season, made O’Neill’s frequent effort to cut through the orchestra all the more apparent; the poignant ease of Eric Owens’ King Marke also pointed to the tenor’s pompous, self-confident performance.
But with Wilson dominating it through power of voice and clarity of personality, this is a “Tristan” that seems right to imply anyway – for it insists on nothing – that it should be “Isolde” to which we call the name. of this unique work. And it is to Isolde that the last coup is reserved; as the music of her transfiguration dissolves, the walls of the set open for Wilson to quietly stride toward the back of the theater into the night.
Tristan and Isolde
Until August 23 at Santa Fe Opera, New Mexico; santafeopera.org.