Tristan at Bayreuth 2025: A Review of Arnarsson’s Production

by Sam Goodyear

Conductor: Semyon Bychkov
Director: Thorleifur Örn Arnarsson
Stage design: Vytautas Narbutas
Costumes: Sibylle Wallum
Dramaturgy: Andri Hardmeier
Lighting: Sascha Zauner
Choral Conducting: Thomas Eitler-de Lint

Tristan: Andreas Schager
Marke: Günther Groissböck
Isolde: Camilla Nylund
Kurwenal: Jordan Shanahan
Melot: Alexander Grassauer
Brangäne: Ekaterina Gubanova
Ein Hirt: Daniel Jenz
Ein Steuermann: Lawson Anderson
Junger Seemann: Matthew Newlin

If London buses are known for arriving two at a time, then these days Bayreuth Tristans can go one better. After all, with Katharina Wagner’s splendid production having its last outing in 2019, and Roland Schwab’s schmalzy but well-executed interpretation gracing the stage for just two years, Thorleifur Örn Arnarsson’s staging became the third different Tristan at the Festspielhaus within a 6-year period when it premiered last year. Did this latest version make me glad of the high turnover rate? Alas, I’m afraid not. For while I can, especially after having read the programme notes, see some of what Arnarsson was trying to get at, I found the presentation of his ideas inconsistent and rather too difficult to parse in real time to come out of the Festspielhaus anything other than slightly underwhelmed.

Arnarsson’s concept is based around the idea that the most important moment of the opera actually takes place before it begins – the moment when Isolde looked at “Tantris” and decided not to kill him. According to Arnarsson one can “see the whole drama as an attempt by the two of them to arrive again at this one true moment”, a moment in which he believes both momentarily break free from what society expects of them – in Isolde’s case, to be a passive participant in a male world; in Tristan’s, to be an heroic servant to his king.
It is in this context that the action on stage unfurled then, with the curtain parting after the overture to reveal Isolde trapped in a wedding dress with an enormous train. She furiously, almost obsessively scribbled her thoughts and feelings about the events that had taken place prior to the opera (Rache, Tantris, trotzig, Betrug etc.) onto the dress, as if she were attempting to process trauma. The trauma of that moment of clarity, of love, between her and Tristan somehow giving way to her being brought to marry Marke? Quite possibly, and somewhat reminiscent of Isolde’s mental difficulties in Katharina Wagner’s staging. The constricting nature of the dress was, in any case, an understandable metaphor for being hemmed in by societal requirements, and one that would continue to appear throughout the evening. Behind her, ropes hung down, placing us on a ship, and further hinting at restriction.

She shed the train as she began to sing of Tristan at the beginning of the second scene, at which point he appeared in a maroon breastplate under a long black coat. If this clothing were representative of his own corseting by society as outlined above (a Heiner Müller influence?), then he too would break progressively free of it during the evening, at first by removing his armour when revisiting the “one true moment” and offering Isolde a second chance to slay him. No love (or death) potion was drunk by the pair, and as if to demonstrate the fact that their love did not need it, they kissed even before the natural musical moment arrived prior to her singing his name. They continued to embrace underneath the train of her dress before the ropes fell to the ground as the conclusion of the first act played out, their fates no longer tied to propriety. So far, fine, even if any elevation of the Tantris moment beyond its usual significance were not particularly apparent from action on stage.

Act II was more confusing. It took place in the hull of the ship, in a cluttered room reminiscent of a badly organised antiques store. Greek statues, seascapes, wheels, books, a skeleton, a globe, a mirror, some clocks, half a trombone… the objects did not appear to be selected to tell a particular story. Given that this was the lovers’ place of refuge, were these curiosities a tableau representing a forgotten society that would allow them to return to their transcendent moment? It was difficult to see how, particularly as the wedding dress that was so symbolic of entrapment made another appearance when Isolde took it from a chest it had been stored in. Also within the ramshackle collection was a sword, which Tristan used to cut his own hand and offer to Isolde once more. Was this just an old sword? Or was it supposed to be the same sword Isolde had held over him as Tantris? If it were, then perhaps all these objects were mementos of their past lives, imprisoning them rather than providing them with a safe haven? Possible, but it was not clear from what we saw.

The death potion returned towards the end of the act, with both Isolde and Tristan grasping it before the interruption of their love duet. Kurwenal had already been noticeably more brutish than normal in Act I, being physically violent with Brangäne, and a similarly menacing King Marke continued to give the impression that society outside of the leading pair’s love for each other was a dark and unforgiving place. No sword was needed to mortally wound Tristan, as he finally drank the potion before the curtain came down.

The Act III stage was a sort of mix of the first two. Ropes once again hung from the ceiling, and separated pieces of the hull stood in the background. Some of the objects from below deck were now arranged in a pile in the middle of the stage, in which Tristan sat. No more was done to explain the intended meaning, and until the arrival of Isolde’s ship, no set changes took place. Tristan was by now wearing a shirt, which from photographs of the production one can see had similar writing on it to that on Isolde’s dress, but which was difficult to discern from row 20.  A dying man ensnared by things from his past, attempting to process his past trauma just as Isolde had done? Perhaps, yet I remain unsure why he began to hold and wrap himself in the wedding dress during his ravings as if it were a comfort blanket, given that it was an item that represented his apartness from Isolde. Sections of the hull moved for her arrival, at which point it was her turn both to drink the death potion and cling to the wedding dress, before she died lying underneath it. Love in death, or vice versa: that much at least was clear.

Turning to the music, and happily there was little to complain about. I’ve heard some stonkingly good Andreas Schager performances over the years, although have been present at the occasional off night as well. On this evening, I really felt he was at his brilliant best as Tristan, despite being under the weather. His trademark heroic power was maintained with apparent ease through the nearly-impossible-to-sing Act III, and was allied to typically strong acting in a performance that grabbed you by the scruff of the neck with its energy at just the right times. The volume was turned down from 11 when needed though, and moments such as the quiet covered high notes on “der Liebe nur zu leben” during the Act II duet showed he has more than one string to his bow.

In my opinion, Camilla Nylund has been one of the world’s very best singing-actresses for many years now, yet not necessarily someone I associated with power in the upper register. Any worries that balance with Schager would be an issue though proved totally unfounded, as she blended well with him in the acoustic of the Festspielhaus and brought her usual attention to the text, dramatic commitment and expressive yet beautiful timbre, particularly in a defiant Act I.

As King Marke, Günther Groissböck commanded the stage in a muscular, snarling interpretation. Low on vibrato but not lacking in resonance for it, his diction and clarity stood out.  Jordan Shanahan brought a rich tone and strong acting to a gruffer and meaner, less Horatio-like characterisation of Kurwenal than we are used to, while Ekaterina Gubanova gave some beautifully gentle, expressive warnings as Brangäne. All the smaller roles were well taken, with Alexander Grassauer standing out as a chocolate-voiced Melot.

In the pit, Semyon Bychkov set the tone immediately with an overture that swelled and built up organically like the waves of the ocean. Tempi were not especially fast, but momentum and tautness to the playing were maintained throughout, whether we were hurtling towards oblivion for Tristan’s Act II entrance or taking in the hushed environment of the Liebesnacht. If I had just one small quibble it might be a request for a slightly truer fortissimo when required, but overall this was a reading that seemed to instinctively make sense in terms of its overarching structure.

Some positives from the performance for sure then, but despite hints of ideas, I left the theatre feeling rather cold and nonplussed. I don’t necessarily think anything that Arnarsson or his colleagues state in the programme notes cannot form the basis of a strong production, but I felt more consistency, and above all, clarity in the presentation of those ideas were needed. For example: if Tristan and Isolde are trying to recreate their Tantris meeting somehow, I think that needs to be shown to us more obviously on stage and explained outside of the programme booklet; and in terms of props, I think a more consistent narrative about the meaning of the wedding dress throughout the evening would have made a world of difference. In general, I suppose I’d just like to see a little more done on stage to bring us on the directorial journey. Still, a strong evening musically, and with no further Tristan production currently on the horizon, plenty of time, one hopes, for the scenic side to become more seaworthy.

Sam Goodyear

Sam Goodyear is an opera fan and Wagner enthusiast, originally from Portsmouth but now living in Germany. He read history at Peterhouse, Cambridge, and has at various times worked as a bookie, translator, trader, journalist, and TV researcher. He currently works in socially responsible investment. While very much an amateur, his interest in music has in the past led to him singing on BBC radio, and playing the trumpet in front of the queen. He attends as much Wagner both at home and abroad as time and money will permit, and he has written on Wagner for Classical Music Magazine.

Tristan und Isolde Timings (Complete with no cuts)

Sources: Jonathan Brown: Great Wagner Conductors, Per-Erik Skramstad

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