Longborough's magical Tristan shows me that Wagner CAN write a love story

We've become Wagner Patrons at the Longborough Festival Opera.

We decided to make the Cotswolds-based country house opera the main focus for our family philanthropy because we believe in their model of intimate, high-quality performances put on for a community of people who care passionately about it.  No bored corporate hospitality guests only along for the posh picnic here.  We believe opera needs to be performed and celebrated outside of the big cities if it's to survive.  Longborough played a big role in our courtship.  And, truth be told, it's also because the higher membership levels are the only way to guarantee getting weekend tickets for their widely acclaimed Wagner performances.

The company repaid us in full this past weekend with a gorgeously sung, heart-wrenching version of Tristan und Isolde.

Since meeting my Wagner-loving husband I've seen most of the repertoire.  Most of The Ring at Longborough, Dutchman at the Royal Opera House and others on live broadcast or television.  Somehow I'd missed Tristan und Isolde.  Ironic, since it's become my favourite in Wagner's repertoire, refuting my earlier opinion that the man couldn't write a credible love story.  Longborough's production was a passionate roller coaster, delivering ... with complete credibility ... the story of lovers driven to disaster by a relationship they know is wrong, but can't resist.

Much of this credibility is due to Peter Wedd and Rachel Nicholls in the titular roles, who gave us acting as superior as their masterful voices.  In Act 1, they managed to subtly convey that their rigid indifference to each other hid a real passion. The act-ending love potion didn't create it, but rather revealed the truth of it.  From then on, the relationship is a glorious train wreck.  Wedd's Tristan is, quite literally, writhing with passion, lost to the world and to himself.  Nicholls sends Isolde careering back and forth between joyful ecstasy, fear and heartbreak.  We've seen her at Longborough before: she was the Brunnhilde who convinced me Wagner could create women as compelling as Tosca (story here).  I thought she was even better this time.

With its small stage and tight funding, Longborough can't afford lavish production values.  Presumably most of their money goes on the voices and the musicians, which are uniformly excellent. Thus they make a virtue of stripped back, sparse staging, and I've come to rely on them to deliver modern interpretations that are visually stimulating ... and that generally work.  Here, the visual interest was in the costumes: medieval meets Paris catwalk. Lighting effects set the scene: a horizontal line, gently moving with the "navigation" to create the ship crossing the Irish Sea; the projected shadow of a henge to denote Tristan's castle in Brittany; a single guttering torch to embody the lovers' duet about day and night.

The most striking feast for the eyes, and the most controversial, came from ballet dancers choreographed to embody Tristan and Isolde's inner emotions.  It was a Marmite move: people either seemed to love it or hate it.  I was in the former camp.  I thought it added depth to the plot and the characterisation, from the very beginning showing us that these two people ... while outwardly trying to do the right thing ... were crazy about each other.  Literally.  It even enhanced the main love scene, showing that their passion exceeded what they were able to express.

And, let's be honest, it gave me something to focus on during some very, very long scenes.  Even my new-found appreciation for Tristan und Isolde doesn't change my heretical opinion that Wagner would be much improved if edited by 30% and sung in Italian.  Something, of course, I will never say out loud in the grounds of Longborough, which has clearly become the English Bayreuth. (The German theatre built by the composer himself and now dedicated to performing his oeuvre.)  The German-speaking ladies at the table next to us in the patron's tent had flown in from Switzerland; the others at our B&B (as ever, the wonderful Windy Ridge) could compare and contrast with other productions they'd seen around the world.

I may now be a patron, but I know I'm a neophyte in Wagnerland.  As long as Longborough continues to put on productions of this quality, I'm happy to be a student as well.  Next year, Tannhauser.  Or, as I heretically call it, Night on Love Mountain.  Bring it on.

But not just yet.  Next month, we're back for Xerxes.