The Return of Lohengrin

Lohengrin returned to the Metropolitan Opera last Monday night in Robert Wilson's dazzlingly abstract production. Last seen during the 1998-1999 season, Wilson's Lohengrin is more a re-imagining of Wagner's middle masterwork than a traditional restaging. With its minimal sets, cool lighting, and expressionistic stage direction, it inhabits the opposite extreme to the realism of Otto Schenk's sumptuous, "historically accurate" productions of the Ring Cycle and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Following the Wilson mantra "there's nothing more beautiful than an empty space," much of the opera unfolds in front of a blue background as illuminated beams float elegantly across the stage, corresponding to the various leitmotifs. A delicate and effective match to the deliriously tender score, this Lohengrin is sure to appeal to all but the most conservative of Wagnerians.

One of the most striking elements of the production is the stark use of light, which spots the singers' highly controlled faces and hands, while they perform in a manner befitting Dr. Caligari. The hyper-stylized movements bring to mind the chorus of a Greek tragedy and the formless dresses and gowns again bring to mind German expressionism. What little furniture there was on stage seemed out of a Bauhaus catalogue designed by Tim Burton.

The one place where the production seemed to work less well was the ending. Much of the denouement is not evident from the libretto alone, and the abstract staging certainly didn't help clarify things. Those less familiar with the intrigue will be sent back to their playbills to find out what exactly happens.

This provoking and moving production also boasts one of the most talented casts of the operatic season. In the title role, the true heldentenor Ben Heppner took a bit of time to ease into his character. Early on, he took a few big breaths and his effortless and lovely voice was a little lost in the ensemble scenes. He was most capable where it mattered most, letting his richly textured and delicately lilting voice fill the house in the final scene. If this performance is any indication, we have much to look forward to in his Parsifal next month.

As the innocent and tragic Else, the powerhouse Karita Mattila turned out one of her most mesmerizing performances to date. Seen most recently as Leonore in the Met's Fidelio, the indefatigable Mattila continues to astound with a luscious and distinctive voice that wafts through the Met with ease. Unfortunately, in Monday's performance, the ring of a cell phone interrupted her first strains of distress. Throughout the evening, she alternated between heroism and pity in each lyrical outpouring. We'll have a hard time waiting for her Isolde.

In the other roles, the baritone Richard Paul Fink was an impressive Telramund. He sang with dark, husky, muscular tones that lent his villainous yet weak-willed character an appropriate degree of pathos. The American soprano Luana DeVol, making her company debut, portrayed Ortrud, the opera's Lady Macbeth. Her wicked indignation seemed almost righteous in her honeyed tones. Forceful and terrifying, she seemed to run out of steam towards the evening's end. Andrew Greenan made an impressive debut as King Henry, even if he was a bit weak at the top. He showed a greater dramatic and vocal range than the brazen herald of Eike Wilm Schulte, whose diction may have suffered if anything from being too precise.

In the pit, Philippe Auguin-replacing the convalescent Maestro Levine-led the exemplary musicians in an impassioned, well balanced reading that conveyed full mastery of the score: one that never lagged in the opera's four-and-a-half hours. Auguin steered the performance away from sentimentality and melodrama and achieved a cool refinement that served as a perfect complement to the unorthodox staging.