After an eight year absence, Tristan und Isolde has returned to the Met stage in a new production by the distinguished opera director, Mariusz Treliński, with sets by Boris Kudiĉka, video projections by Bartek Macias, and lighting by Marc Heinz. I last saw the production it replaced, Dieter Dorn’s spare, static yet elegantly evocative vision in 2008, when Daniel Barenboim made his belated Met debut as its conductor. Peter Gelb has made a point of inviting eminent conductors to the Met including Barenboim, Riccardo Muti and Sir Simon Rattle, who made his Met debut conducting Pelléas et Mélisande in 2010. Now Rattle has returned to conduct Treliński’s production of Tristan. Dorn had left the psychological and dramatic work to be done by the orchestra and singers; Treliński’s  Tristan is concept driven and eminently theatrical. Dorn let nothing detract or distract from the music; Treliński at times does both but, at his best – usually with the able assistance of Bartek Macias and Marc Heinz - he achieves a synthesis that is breathtaking.

This production takes place on a military ship, captained by Tristan, who has come to take Isolde to his uncle and her intended, King Marke of Cornwall.  All three acts are introduced by an image of a radar scope projected onto a black background. This is intriguing when we first see it during the prelude, but it gets rather tiresome after a while. Act one is overloaded with ideas and projections, particularly those giving Tristan a back story, complete with an image of himself as a child – this recurs later – and a burning house. The set is cold and modular with sheared off compartments, reminiscent of a doll's house, opening out to the audience from a background of utter blackness. On the left of the stage are metal staircases linking the levels of the ship.

The Met orchestra’s last appearance performing Wagner was in May at an extremely moving quasi-valedictory concert of excerpts from the Ring conducted by James Levine at Carnegie Hall. Back home, under Rattle’s baton, they play just as brilliantly. The most ravishing music seems to flow, sometimes in great waves, other times in small eddies. The dynamics range from full tilt to little more than a whisper. The transparent sections, thinly scored, are just breathtaking. And the tender, plaintive English horn solo by Pedro Diaz simply stunning.

Nina Stemme, who triumphed last season in the late Patrice Chéreau’s production of Elektra, is a magnificent Isolde. She sings with luminous tone, unflagging energy,and  meticulous attention to the text. She is also dramatically compelling. Tenor Stuart Skelton is a fine Tristan. In this punishing role he holds his own, singing with conviction and superb technique. His third act monologue is marvelous.

Certainly at the Met, René Pape seems to own the role of King Marke. He was unforgettable in 2008, singing under Barenboim and here again his beautiful, resonant voice conveys sadness and loss but also the dignity and gravitas befitting a king. Ekaterina Gubanova is a rich voiced passionate Brangäne. Carsten Wittmoser, making his Met debut as Kurwenal, filling in for an indisposed Evgeny Nitkin, sings with a dark, sonorous voice, excellent diction and even tone. 

Being immersed in the sound world of Tristan und Isolde is a unique and overwhelming experience. Beginning with the prelude with its harmonic ambiguity, an absence of a tonal home, long seemingly endless silences, I always have a sense of being plunged into eternal time, carried along with no fixed destination. After so many hours submerged in a sea of chromaticism, one loses one’s bearings so that the resolution at the end of the opera, in the “Liebestod,” has a profound psychological effect, Indeed, even a physiological one.  Dorn’s production had little or no theatricality. He allowed the music to do all of the work. Treliński’s vision is very different.  Some of his choices – like Isolde slitting her wrists and ending up sitting next to Tristan on a bench – just seem inappropriate to me. At times, however, when he is able to integrate his production with the music, the result is masterful. For me, the highpoint of the production – mostly due to the superb lighting effects – is the act two love duet, which is set on the bridge of the ship. Isolde in silhouette waits for Tristan. Storm clouds build, isolating them in their passion. It’s primal, not of this world. They sing of their love with the lighting serving the music to stunning effect.

At the end of the opera, with Stemme’s extraordinarily beautiful “Liebestod,” the so-called Tristan chord finally resolves. There is such a feeling of completeness. And for the Met audience, stunned silence and then cheers.