Tannhäuser offers the tale of a knight caught between the sacred and the profane. The titular character challenges the conservative, stultifying mores of medieval Thuringia with a paean to sex and hedonism. It’s ironic, then, that Otto Schenk’s 1977 production is the very image of artistic conservatism. The singers are garbed in pastel medieval robes and capes, as if in an amateur production of Robin Hood; far worse is the Venusburg orgy, a gauzy art deco affair with all of the erotic charge of a wet sock. Günther Schneider-Siemssen’s sets, though, remain impressive, with Venusburg seamlessly shifting in and out of view and Wartburg’s Hall of Song an architectural and acoustic marvel.
Tannhäuser is placed somewhere between the German Romantics and the Gesamtkunstwerk that would find its ideal in Wagner’s later operas. It’s a mix of traditional arias and concertato finales with more daring harmonic and structural passages, all the more complicated by the various performing editions of the opera. The Met has used the 1875 Vienna version with its extended bacchanale, mezzo-soprano Venus, and the omission of Walther’s solo. An experienced Wagnerian, conductor Sir Donald Runnicles knows when to keep the action moving, and navigated the complexities of the second act finale with aplomb. The Met Orchestra was on excellent form, offering both polished Germanic tone and a quivering voluptuousness that offered eroticism where the staging could not. The chorus sounded excellent whether offstage or on, achieving an ideal blend in the final chorale.
The title role is one of Wagner’s most grueling parts, and Austrian tenor Andreas Schager made a triumphant return to the Met following a successful debut as Siegfried in 2019. Although his vibrato often widens into a wobble and he tends to start just south of the pitch, it’s satisfying to hear such a large voice project into the Met auditorium with such clarion ease. His third act Rome Narration sounded perfectly fresh, building in vocal and dramatic intensity to fever pitch without any compromise in tone. He’s a convincing actor as well, throwing himself around the stage in an attempt to liven up the static staging.
The best acting of the evening, though, came from Elza van den Heever, making her role debut as Elisabeth. The South African soprano has had a varied Met career, ranging from Mozart and Handel to Berg. The glory of her soprano is in its upper register, which slices through the ensembles like a blade; I’ve never heard any other soprano stretch out the high B that caps “Dich teure Halle” with such nonchalant ease. She’s also a wonderfully expressive actress, capturing Elisabeth’s optimism and heartbreak with her body language alone. There’s no denying, though, that the role lies too low for her top-heavy soprano, and the long, sustained lines of “Allmächt’ge Jungfrau” didn’t pack the emotional punch it should have.
She had fantastic chemistry with Christian Gerhaher, making his long-awaited Met debut as Wolfram. Celebrated primarily for the subtlety and intelligence of his Lieder interpretations, he brought a similar attention to textual and musical detail to the role. Wolfram’s ode to courtly love was performed almost as a parody of a typical Lieder singer, full of fussy posturing and word painting. But “O du mein holder Abendstern” was similarly fussy, almost resorting to crooning at times. When he finally let the voice loose in his final scenes opposite Tannhäuser it was thrilling, filling the auditorium with bronzed sound.
Russian mezzo Ekaterina Gubanova sounded and looked appropriately seductive as Venus, with a rich, luscious tone and supple phrasing when she resists the temptation to force the sound. When she pushes, the sound turns opaque and her high notes have a tendency to spread, but she’s an exciting stage presence. As the landgrave Hermann, Georg Zeppenfeld was sympathetic but sounded muffled at times; I found myself wanting to hear Le Bu, cast as Biterolf, sing the role instead. The young Chinese bass-baritone is in his second year as a Lindemann Young Artist but already boasts a remarkably mature voice, with a resonance and finesse that anticipate great things. Similarly, Maureen McKay’s buoyant soprano impressed as the Shepherd Boy, with a maturity that kept the character from spilling over into cloying cuteness.
