Watching Wagner at Bayreuth: now that’s a challenge!
By the end of last year, I had already arranged a trip to the Bayreuth Festival in Bavaria, a celebration devoted entirely to the works of Richard Wagner. The last time I was this excited was twenty years ago when I first set foot at the Metropolitan Opera. On December 23, I purchased tickets for two performances: “Tristan and Isolde” and “Parsifal.” And although I soon realized that watching Wagner’s operas in Bayreuth is a true challenge – long performances, no air conditioning, uncomfortable seats, and the absence of subtitles – it is all worth enduring to take part in these operatic mysteries.
I traveled to Bayreuth from Nuremberg on a diesel train in the early morning. Along the way, we passed beautiful views of hills, rivers, streams, fields, and forests. The idyllic rural landscape, combined with reading Wagner’s biography, set the mood for this exceptional visit. Waiting for me atop a green hill was the Festspielhaus, the theater largely designed by the composer himself. I was lucky: the hotel gave me my room key before 1 p.m., allowing me to relax and get in the mood for the opera. Two hours before the performance, the hotel invites its guests for a snack – of course featuring sparkling wine – and then drives them in a vintage car to the Green Hill (return trip only €5). When I arrived at the theater, a lump formed in my throat. Even at my age, when few things stir me so deeply, I couldn’t contain my excitement or my hope of experiencing something truly extraordinary.
The Festspielhaus itself is impressive. It has undergone extensive renovation and looks magnificent. The lawn in front of it is decorated with amusing golden figurines of Wagner’s benefactor and patron – King Ludwig II of Bavaria. After a short walk, I went to Green Hill Kitchen, an architecturally unremarkable building directly adjacent to the theater that houses several restaurants. I chose an option that seemed expensive at first but included unlimited access to drinks and food before, during two one-hour intermissions, and after “Tristan and Isolde.”
The festiwal is full of charming traditions, such as a brass section on the balcony that plays a snippet of a Wagner piece a few minutes before each act to signal the end of the break, and the tradition of entering the festival theater audience through the correct doors from the correct side (left or right). Tickets are checked multiple times and very carefully, and you are required to present your ID at the first entry. At the exact hour the performance or act begins, the staff locks the audience doors from the inside. It is truly impressive! During the performance, there are no subtitles, so this is important to remember, especially if you don’t speak German. Regarding the comfort of the seats, I had read and heard so many negative opinions that I was prepared for torture. It was not that bad. Do not be tempted by cheaper tickets in the so-called “red areas,” where legroom is limited. Unfortunately, I fell into that trap for “Parsifal” and nearly wanted to cry. By comparison, Ryanair seats feel like business class compared to Bayreuth. Luckily, the seat next to me was empty, so I sat sideways through the performance, which gave me a little legroom. The theater is also famous for the lack of air conditioning. On the first evening, it was only 17°C outside (feels like 13°C), yet by the end of each act, it became stuffy. I shudder to think what it must be like at 30°C…
The audience’s attire was extremely varied, and there was no strict dress code. Although I saw both tuxedos and sweaters, there was a sense of community and awareness that we were all participating in something special and elevated. After each act, and of course at the end of the performance, besides the obvious applause and cheers, there was loud stomping on the wooden floor. The program cost €9, which may seem expensive compared to Poland, but it was worth it. It contained interesting texts and many photos from the performance. The hall is truly impressive, with an amphitheater-style, cascading layout that allows every audience member a clear view of the stage. Unfortunately, well-fed German-speaking audience members are often the height of Michael Jordan or Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen (188 cm) and can block the stage. I had bad luck: in front of me were giants, and behind me were ladies who first competed with the singers by coughing endlessly, then humming interesting parts, and finally unwrapping and eating candies. Even when cautioned, they couldn’t stop handling the wrappers of the sweets they’d already consumed.
As for the theatrical aspect of “Tristan and Isolde,” the performance was perhaps far from Wagner’s ideal of the music drama. Little happened on stage, and the lighting and decorations did not help the characters build tension or theatrical-musical synergy. The setting resembled neither a ship deck nor an old warehouse. I could only enjoy the music (the orchestra conducted by the attentive Semion Bychkov) and the vocal skills of the performers. The best was Camilla Nylund, whom I had already heard this season in Munich as Senta, but who did not captivate me then. Her Isolde, however, was truly magnificent, and the famous final “Liebestod” was exhilarating. Andreas Schager, often criticized and even ridiculed, performed Tristan. His voice pierced the Festspielhaus effortlessly throughout the performance. The star of the evening was Ekaterina Gubanowa as Brangäne. I also enjoyed Günther Groissböck as King Marke. The bass-baritone Jordan Shanahan, singing Kurwenal, showed the greatest promise for the future.
I had been apprehensive about “Parsifal.” I had only seen it once before in a Polish theater, and then I thought this must be what hell looks like: sinners forced to endlessly watch Wagner performed by untalented artists. Fortunately, in Bayreuth, the story of the innocent youth embarking on a quest to save the Knights of the Holy Grail was superb in every aspect: vocal, acting, staging, and musical. Jay Scheib’s direction turned Wagner’s mystery into modern, fresh opera theater. Mimi Lien’s set design was captivating – extremely minimalist in Act I, full of creativity, scale, and beauty in Act II, and in Act III, it shocked the audience with a post-apocalyptic vision of the world’s degradation. Costumes (Meentje Nielsen) harmonized perfectly with the set and beautifully characterized the drama’s figures. Special praise goes to the lighting direction by Rainer Caspar, as light played a key role in this performance, masterfully shaping the moods of the main characters, emphasizing the austerity of Acts I and III, and turning Act II into a kaleidoscope of color, heightening the contrast of the entire production.
I watched the performance on three levels: live on stage, via real-time projections operated by cameras that captured nuances – facial expressions, small gestures, the moving images of Amfortas’s unhealing wound – and in a third level reserved for 300 of the 1,700 audience members who chose seats with AR goggles. It was not easy and required extra effort. After a few hours, the goggles became heavy, and perception was limited. I have a diagnosed vision problem, so wearing glasses made using the goggles even more challenging. Even though I provided my vision correction when personalizing my ticket and the staff calibrated the goggles before the performance, I was not satisfied with the result. The 3D images were clear, but the stage figures were blurred. I had to wear my glasses under the goggles and support them with my hand. It was uncomfortable but significantly improved visibility.
The producers used AR technology to extend the stage design across the entire festival hall – from ceiling to floor – covering 180 degrees. Virtual images depicted landscapes and symbols important to the narrative: arrows, spears, the Holy Grail, a wounded swan, running foxes and rabbits, skeletons, skulls, and more. Unfortunately, in Act I, the quality of these images was below expectations, sometimes resembling 1990s Windows screensavers. In Act II, however, they became true works of art, complementing and extending the stage décor throughout the theater, surrounding us with breathtaking floral forms. In Act III, images illustrated a post-apocalyptic vision of environmental and human degradation: ravaged landscapes, damaged environments, scattered wrecked cars, broken laptops, stone-crushing machines, and plastic bags swirling in the air.
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Vocally, it was first-class. Michael Volle (Amfortas), Georg Zeppenfeld (Gurnemanz), and Jordan Shanahan (Klingsor) were outstanding both vocally and theatrically. In Act I, I was concerned about Latvian mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča, whose voice did not sound strong enough, but in Act II, she was enchanting, skillfully overcoming the score’s challenges and building the character of Kundry convincingly in both sensual and dramatic scenes. Andreas Schager, as Parsifal (the day before performing Tristan), sang in his usual form without signs of fatigue. Their love duet would satisfy even the harshest critics.
Special acclaim belongs to the choir – a remarkable ensemble of precision and dynamism, their velvety voices rising in powerful waves during the forte passages, then melting into tender pianissimo. The orchestra, under the baton of Pablo Heras-Casado, was equally compelling, though I found their performance of “Tristan and Isolde” even more stirring. In summary, it was one of the most beautiful performances I have ever seen. The atmosphere of the place itself, the Wagnerian cult, and the pervasive sense of solemnity made me feel as if I were in an unreal world, and I deeply want to preserve that feeling. “Parsifal” ended with a 15-minute standing ovation. It was sheer madness! I have never heard such applause and ovations at a concert by either Madonna or Adele.