‘Tristan’ Shows Stunning Visual, Vocal Magnitude

When Tristan and Isolde sing their ecstatic and very extended love duet, the earth, for the susceptible Wagnerite, should move. And move it did at the Seattle Center on Saturday night, when Ben Heppner and Jane Eaglen assumed the roles for the first time.

The predictions by the Wagnerian seismologists for this new production of Wagner’s opera had actually gotten a little out of hand. Not for three or four decades have singers of genuine heroic vocal abilities been the main attraction in “Tristan und Isolde,” Wagner’s epic about the transforming power of love and Eros.

Here, at last, are two singers with the kind of unprecedented vocal heft Wagner asked for in 1865--and that has remained such a prized scarcity in opera ever since. Indeed, so great is the hype and hope for Heppner and Eaglen as the Tristan and Isolde for the 21st century that Wagnerian pilgrims from 45 states and 14 countries have ordered tickets from Seattle Opera for performances that run through the month.

Yet it wasn’t exactly an illusion of the ground parting that was produced by the voices of the burly Canadian tenor and the resounding British soprano. It really did. If Seattle has unveiled a “Tristan” for the 21st century, and this production comes pretty close, it is not so much through music as it is through great modern stagecraft.

As conceived by director Francesca Zambello and designer Alison Chitty, “Tristan” is as much a realistic modern cinematic epic as it is a weird 19th century love fantasy. The stage of the Seattle Opera House is wide and tall, and they fill it completely like a 70mm movie screen.

In the first act, the ship in which Tristan takes Isolde to Cornwall is of Titanic proportion and vintage, as part of a production that mixes historical periods freely. Its enormous, sleek hull is abstracted into a flat architectural panel taking up the entire stage. The hull opens to reveal Isolde’s moderne cabin, where the protagonists drink their potion and begin their epic obsession with each other. Zambello and Chitty isolate them from their world. The cabin turns into a steel-and-glass pavilion incongruous in the midst of a snowy forest in the second act or a hillside in the third.

For the great duet, the ground not only breaks, the trees fall away and the pavilion becomes one with the heavens. The lighting is by Mimi Jordan Sherin, and it is magical throughout (even in the third act where the set is dull), following not just the great waves of the music but creating an engulfing sense of panorama.

The production’s size and magnificence both served the singers and, I’m afraid, compensated for them. Heppner and Eaglen are, themselves, large, and some visual context is useful. But neither singer has really the stage or vocal personality to dominate this opera quite as the legendary voices of old did.

Some of the musical stiffness may have been first-night nerves. A lot of pressure was put on them, and they will surely feel freer as the run continues (Eaglen sings all 10 performances, and Heppner all but the last two, when Gary Lakes assumes the role). And while they may well be the best we have, they were merely strong and careful singers Saturday, not wondrously soaring ones. The orchestra could drown them out when it was full.

Still, one was glad for Heppner’s endurance in his long third act monologue. Eaglen’s ferocity at first was colder than it needed to be, but she warmed by the end for a lovely, if slightly tired, “Liebestod.” But neither quite fell into the spirit of Armin Jordan’s fluid and, at times, near-mystical conducting. And neither had the dramatic vitality of their colleagues: Greer Grimsley was a virile Kurwenal; Peter Rose, a mellow King Marke; Michelle DeYoung, a dramatic, if forced, Brangane.

It wasn’t, however, until the end--the very end--that the drama actually became touching. Zambello has a modern, feminist sensibility, and she would have none of Wagner’s more absurd sexism, and certainly not Isolde dying simply of love. Instead, Eaglen seemed to come really alive for the first time all evening in her “Liebestod” (or love death), as if reborn by Tristan’s death.

She then, at the last, luminous chord of the opera, laid her head on the chest of her lover’s slain body, and his hand slowly rose to embrace her. A touch of “Night of the Living Dead,” perhaps, but it gave me goose bumps.

* Performances of “Tristan und Isolde” continue at the Seattle Center Opera House on Tuesday, Friday, and Aug. 10, 13, 19, 22, 25 and 28 at 7 p.m.; Aug. 16, 2 p.m. $40-$107. (206) 389-7676.