The archetypal opera could be any one of many because of the different genres, but Tristan und Isolde always seemed like THE BIGGIE to me when I was but an unwashed Conservatory student: lengthy exposition in German, knightly legend, love, death, you know-- the usual fare. I dreaded it, knowing that it would be outside my ken.
My aversion was unfounded. Some 12 years ago we went to LA Opera's presentation of the masterwork. Our ill-advised tardiness had an upside: we were not left in the lobby to watch on a screen. Instead we were seated in the rear of the main floor, under the balcony. We couldn't read the supertitles, but they were wholly unnecessary because the music expresses the feeling so clearly. Even the overture foreshadowed the emotional content ahead. So detailed the exposition, so detailed the music. I almost felt that I had bathed in chocolate mousse because of the richness!
The Lyric production (featuring the same cartoonish sets and costumes from LA!) starred Deborah Voigt, America's preeminent Wagnerian soprano. She is a phenomenon! Her voice and directness in bearing are perfect! Everyone else comported themselves exquisitely, still her star shone the brightest.
Tarnishing the evening was a dull, dry overture. I was robbed of my luxuriating. Perhaps the acoustics in the cheap seats up high aren't so good? Also, a strange scrim lay before our eyes at the opening of each act: "Tristan and Isolde by Richard Wagner," in what must have been 20-inch letters. Rather overbearing and wholly unnecessary, I think.
A friend says that during the intermissions in Germany, one may dine on china and linen in ample time. How funny it was for her to see so many people in their elegant garb, sitting on the steps and floors, eating from boxes. Things are indeed different in America. At least it wasn't McDonalds!
Monday, February 23, 2009
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