Tannhäuser, Royal Opera House, review: Soprano Lise Davidsen is effortlessly perfect

Tim Albery’s revival of Wagner’s eccentric masterpiece worked a treat despite Stefan Vinke cancelling his performance in the title role due to illness

Elisabeth is being sung by the Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen in the ROH’s ‘Tannhäuser’ (©ROH / Clive Barda)

Covent Garden’s latest offering this season is the second revival of Tim Albery’s production of Wagner’s eccentric masterpiece, Tannhäuser. Set in the 13th century, its story concerns a singer who forsakes the fleshly delights of the Venusberg for a life of struggle and suffering on Earth.

You could say that this story represents a battle for the singer Tannhäuser’s soul; you could argue that it follows his progress – via a contrite pilgrimage to Rome – towards Wagner’s celebration of music as the cure for the psychological sicknesses of the modern world. Wagner’s medieval Christian allegory can be interpreted in many ways, but it chimes surprisingly neatly with one finding of contemporary neuroscience – to the effect that the unbridled pursuit of pleasure yields ever-diminishing pleasure in return.

Whatever. Wagner’s head was full of crazy religious notions, and he could never stop tinkering with the structure of this work. It doesn’t even have much of a plot – the dramatic pulse often slows to a halt. But what draws singers and audiences year after year is its sublime music. And this time the leading female role of Elisabeth is being sung by the Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen, for whom we critics have run out of superlatives.

Her artistry is not mysterious – it’s just effortlessly perfect. It has a fullness, a sweetness, and immense power: during one of her arias I found myself looking up into the boxes to see who was interrupting her, until I realised that it was actually her own voice bouncing off the side of the auditorium, but with complete clarity.

Meanwhile, Stefan Vinke had to cancel his performance in the title role thanks to a sudden illness, and the hastily improvised solution was for Vinke to walk through the role on stage, while Norbert Ernst sang it from the wings. Thanks to Ernst’s impressive artistry, the arrangement worked a treat.

Elsewhere there was plenty of fine singing. Ekaterina Gubanova incarnated Venus with persuasive authority, while Mika Kares and Sarah Dufresne distinguished themselves as the Landgrave and the Young Shepherd. And as the poet Wolfram, baritone Gerald Finley purveyed magic whenever he was on stage: his delivery of “Song to the Evening Star” was lyricism of the highest order.

Michael Levine’s designs are austerely restrained throughout, but the close of the work – as the stage becomes a deserted snow-scape – has great beauty, with the chorus intoning a prayer of thanks in a hushed communal ecstasy.