Kirov Opera at the Kennedy Center
The annual visit of the Mariinsky Theater's traveling opera troupe from St. Petersburg came a little early this year. The themes that unite the Kennedy Center double-bill of Verdi's Otello and Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades are self-destructive obsessions and tenor heroes who become villains. Who better to perform The Queen of Spades than the Mariinsky Theater, which hosted the world premiere of The Queen of Spades on December 19, 1890? The opera is thoroughly Russian, with a libretto based on a classic story by Aleksandr Pushkin. The libretto (see this synopsis for details) moves the setting back to the St. Petersburg of the late 18th century, which this 1999 production directed by Alexander Galibin mostly maintained.
Right from the opening, the conflict of good and evil was set forth by the swirling curtains that dominated the sparsely furnished stage (sets by Alexander Orlov). Black curtains were peeled back to reveal white ones, and vice versa, stretching from one side of the stage to the other. The brooding Hermann was costumed in stark black, contrasting with the white costume in which Lisa first appeared, only to be corrupted to black in later acts (costumes by Irina Cherednikova). Streaks of color washed the stage at other points, as during the dance scenes, especially the vivid green of the pastoral entertainment in the second act. While appealingly stark, the stage's emptiness sometimes seemed more like economy than minimalism. For example, in the gambling scene of the third act, without even a table to throw cards on, the male chorus often seemed to move about aimlessly, and one missed the spinet Lisa is supposed to play on in Act I.
In the second cast, heard on Tuesday night, Maxim Aksenov was a dashing and aloof Hermann, a believably intense loner. When he loses everything at cards in Act III, duped by the Countess's ghost into "betting the turn" (the ultra-risky bet on the final three cards in faro, which if guessed correctly could quadruple your money), his crazed despair was palpable. Aksenov's throaty but full voice had sustainable power and incisive high notes, and he was mostly up to the challenges of this demanding role. As Lisa, Natalia Tymchenko cut a lovely figure but acted stiffly, and her voice sounded slightly strained at times, as in crucial moments during "Why these tears" in Act I. Veteran mezzo-soprano Irina Bogacheva was superlative as the Countess, with a marbled, husky voice and a magnetic stage presence even while seated in her wheelchair. Of the supporting roles, all of them generally strong, Evgeny Nikitin stood out as Tomsky, as did Vladislav Sulimsky's Prince Yeletsky, mostly for the moving aria "I love you beyond measure" in Act II.
The Kirov Opera's traveling orchestra was in admirable form, as was the chorus, especially the men in the final gambling scene. At the podium, Valery Gergiev gave the unstoppable energy we have come to expect from him, somewhat unreasonably, as he is shuttling back and forth from the Kennedy Center to conduct Prokofiev's War and Peace at the Met in New York. Gergiev led his players in creating a sublime orchestral fabric, calibrated generally well to the strengths of his singers and occasionally blowing the roof off the joint, as in the thrilling storm scene in Act I. The volume was certainly there in the patriotic imperial chorus, too, for the supposed appearance of Catherine the Great in Act II, but here Gergiev's enthusiasm seemed to cause a few misalignments of ensemble.
The second opera from the Mariinsky Theater was Verdi's Otello, one of the most masterful operatic adaptations of Shakespeare to date. You may recall that the other late Verdi masterpiece, Falstaff, was a disappointment last year. This updated Kirov Otello, created by stage director Vasily Barkhatov in St. Petersburg only last month, also left much to be desired. At this point in his career, Verdi's dramatic instincts were fully formed and no detail in the libretto or score is unintended or out of place. Directors who interfere too much with that carefully wrought plan run the risk of ultimately diminishing the work rather than simply making it new.
The setting of the action has been updated to around the time of the opera's premiere (somber black and gray costumes by Maria Danilova). For the first two acts, the stage was dominated by an enormous lighthouse (sets by Zinovy Margolin), emitting a beam of painfully bright light during the opening storm scene. The direction spoiled perhaps the greatest entrance in all of opera when Otello crowd-surfed into the scene, from behind the chorus and not from the sea, landing on his feet long before his memorable line "Esultate!" Worse still, the chorus in Act II sang completely off stage. That decision saved some money on costumes, but prevented Desdemona from appearing as the soul of innocence itself, surrounded by children offering her flowers and singing to her. She remained on stage and did not even appear to acknowledge the music, as if it were being piped into Otello's makeshift office like muzak. By the opera's devastating conclusion, it was no surprise to see Desdemona strangled not in her bed but at the top of the lighthouse. Falling unconscious, she had to slouch against the wall, only to be dragged off unceremoniously by the dying Otello. Then a final flash of light from the lighthouse shattered the beauty of the scene and deflated the tragedy of Verdi's score.
The second cast at Wednesday night's performance was a mixed bag. Baritone Edem Umerov had plenty of snarl as Jago, but just as he did as Falstaff last year, he was perpetually ahead of or behind the beat (the Act I brindisi was all over the place, complicated by an overfast tempo), with panicky confusion often written on his face. Tenor Avgust Amonov was a gangling and oddly benign Otello, vocally and dramatically. The heroic passages never quite had the ring to thrill the ears and his high piano sound was not particularly sweet.
In a surprise casting change, soprano Irina Mataeva (pictured) was a beautiful, dark-featured Desdemona with attractive poise on stage. She began the evening with her over-active vibrato pinching slightly flat at times, but by the second act, as Otello began to unravel, she drew all attention to herself by her sympathetic presence. Although a few crucial peak notes were not quite there, her Willow Song and Ave Maria scene were paragons of fragility and purity. Gergiev coaxed a luscious web of sound from his Kirov Orchestra for those lovely moments of the score. In the louder scenes like the storm and the brindisi in Act I, chorus, soloists, and orchestra were at times noticeably disjointed. Overall, this Otello ranked beneath the Kirov's Queen of Spades, but Mataeva's performance was a redeeming factor.
The final chance to hear the Kirov Opera's Queen of Spades is tonight at 7:30 p.m., with the much-praised first-cast pairing of Vladimir Galouzine and Mlada Khudoley, which is the one to see if you can only attend one or the other. The final performance of Otello is on Sunday afternoon (December 16, 3 p.m.). There is no way to know who will sing Desdemona. Full-time students are eligible to buy $25 tickets to the Sunday performance of Otello, through the Attend! program.