As soon as the overture to this 'early' opera of Wagner's enchanted oeuvre began, it was clear that the conductor Marc Albrecht had the unfolding of fate under the strictest mastery. As the tremulous fifths in D minor shrieked out from the strings, the orchestra, in magnificent form, created in a couple of seconds that Zerrissenheit - that tornness of the individual from all moorings - from which most of Wagner's operas yearn for redemption. For the remaining two and a quarter hours Albrecht sustained tempi that were superbly measured and never yielded to the temptations of excessive speed or volume.
       And tornness from all moorings was exactly what Bryn Terfel evoked in his great performance as the Dutchman. In well-articulated German and with masterful vocal control he was able to express, at once, dignity, defiance, torment and overwhelming longing for a woman who would save him from his curse. He was menacing and tender, brooding and haunted, exhausted by his destiny, and yet full of hope.
      Hope movingly answered by Anja Kampe as Senta. Despite an unpromising start, when she was out of tune and sometimes out of time with the orchestra, Kampe sang with clean phrasing, intense inwardness, and unwavering determination to be the one to save the Dutchman. Her voice didn't always have the power to sustain the line of her demanding part, but Kampe nonetheless conveyed with impressive conviction love's will to dedicate itself to someone whom it cannot know. Indeed, like Isolde, knowing isn't the point; and she barely bothers to discover the personality and background of the man for whom she is prepared to die. He last words, “Hier steh' ich, treu Dir bis zum Tod” - “here I stand, faithful to you unto death” - were projected with a power that overwhelmed not only the audience but the singer herself. Here is a great Senta.
      Hans-Peter Koenig, who sang her father, Daland, was also a master of characterization, his voice expressing the blustery pragmatism and hard-headedness of one who sees in Senta's match with the rich Dutchman an opportunity to solve his financial problems and get his daughter off his hands in one sweetheart deal.
      And poor Erik, the simple-hearted local who is in love with Senta, found in Thorsten Kerl's high-pitched tenor an excellent singer, despite a few wobbly moments, to impart the bewilderment and despair of a man who sees his woman slowly deserting him for the sake of a mad dream.
      Tim Albery's production is minimalist in the best sense of the term. Unfussy and elegant, it achieves what constant motion and gesture seldom do: it tells us about the complexity of the life into which the principals find themselves thrown. The rope that Albery makes the Dutchman drag behind him in the opening scene: is it his last connection to the world; or is it part of his terrible burden? The delightful scene in the clothing factory where Senta works with a crowd of seamstresses: is this the world of hearth and home, which all the characters crave, or does it speak of the treadmill of the quotidian from which they might wish to flee? Albery makes us aware of the depth of Wagner's characters by rich implication, rather than by trying to force a party line onto his audience, as too many productions do.
      Finally, one must mention the Royal Opera's chorus, on superb form - rigorous, vigorous, united. Dare one say that they are now a match for Eberhard Friedrich's chorus at Bayreuth?
Simon May