Tannhäuser, Royal Opera House, review: Lise Davidsen shows why she’s opera’s biggest star

Towering vocal performances brought a Midas touch to a revival that badly needed them

“The art of singing will reveal the truth,” says a line in Act II of Wagner’s Tannhäuser. It was an apt statement for opening night at the Royal Opera House, where several towering vocal performances brought a Midas touch to a revival that badly needed them.

There’s much to be said for strong, simple Wagner stagings such as Tim Albery’s 13-year-old production of Wagner’s early, flawed work. Even so, Tannhäuser can be a real treat with a more imaginative touch than this.

In Wagner’s take on the virgin/whore myth, the medieval knight Tannhäuser has won, through his singing, the love of both the goddess Venus and the saint-like princess Elisabeth.

Sensually sated in the former’s home, the Venusberg, he leaves for the real world, only to find himself condemned for his sinfulness in the Venusberg and refused absolution by the (unseen) Pope. Elisabeth dies, planning to intercede for him in heaven. In the 21st century we need to be persuaded to buy into all this.

The only moment of high energy in this whole production, however, was the opening Venusberg orgy-ballet, stunningly choreographed by Jasmin Vardimon.

Bedazzled by sprinting, balancing, rolling dancers – how does anyone run at speed in a straight line down a fast-revolving table? – you expected the continuation to be similarly breathtaking.

But instead, it was rarely more than static and gloomy. The symbolism was unclear, too: a replica Royal Opera House proscenium became the gateway to Venusberg, which Elisabeth’s world regards as hell itself and which Tannhäuser rejects to seek religious salvation. So should we have inferred that as an opera house audience, we were enjoying hell? (Arts Council England’s giant funding cut to the artform suggests they might think so, but let’s not go there.)

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Worse, the intended Tannhäuser, Stefan Vinke, was unwell. The Viennese tenor Norbert Ernst sang the notes creditably from the side while Vinke walked the action. It was nobody’s fault, but the effect could only disappoint.

What a relief, then, that the soprano Lise Davidsen as Elisabeth gave a positively divine performance. The living, breathing meteor of the current opera world, she offered total security from her first jackpot-ringing notes – the mind-bending sonic equivalent of an ace in a Wimbledon final. Every word and phrase was considered, eloquent and luminous, while the sincerity of her stage presence offered ideal characterisation.

Gerald Finley as Wolfram, unrequitedly in love with her, brought much-needed warmth to the proceedings. His tenderness hit home in his aria “O du, mein holder Abenstern”, sincerity and simplicity again pulling considerable weight. The chorus, directed by William Spaulding, were on stupendous form, beginning the Pilgrim’s Chorus in almost impossible quietude before rising to peaks of glory.

Fine performances also came from Ekaterina Gubanova as Venus, Mika Kares as the Landgrave and the Jette Parker Young Artist Sarah Dufresne as the Shepherd. Conductor Sebastian Weigle brought the score clarity and eloquence, despite some jagged moments. And the final image – a child planting a tree, reviving hope after the tragedy – was truly heartening. The evening was a mixed bag overall, but given its finest singing, much is forgiven.

To 16 February (roh.org.uk)

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