Truly Memorable
Power, technology and sex in
Rimsky Korsakov's 'The Tsar's Bride',
reviewed by GIUSEPPE PENNISI
In a studio of a highly technological Russia, a
film is
being made of The Tsar's
Bride. It is not clear
whether it is the 1849 Lev Alexandrovi tragedy based on the pattern of Shakespeare's
Histories or the 1899 opera by
Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov on
a libretto by
Ilya Tyumenev. The shooting of the movie is
interrupted. After a rich
exchange of emails and tweets, the bosses of the local
mafia hold a major meeting in a conference room near the studio. The country is
rapidly going downhill and risks falling apart. There is the need for a charismatic
leader to keep it together. They decide on a manufactured, highly
media-friendly leader, an avatar, always present on TV, cell phones and iPads, but unreal. As the
leader needs a 'first lady',
she is to be searched for amongst all the attractive young
single Russian girls.
Later, the mafia would decide how to manufacture a child
too. The Russian mafia bosses drink heavily, mistreat their long-time
mistresses to replace them with younger ladies,
and search for new weapons and similar tools in nearby Germany.
Their chief, Gryaznoy, stabs his own mistress to death,
poisons (by mistake, with a German
potion) the young girl he
wants to have sex with, after having killed the young man she would have liked
to marry. Meantime, the girl has been chosen by the fictional Tsar as his
bride. Thus, Gryaznoy has no choice
but to commit suicide.
And this while other troubles are also in sight for Russia.
This is The Tsar's
Bride I heard and saw at its 2 March 2014
premiere at La Scala, a
co-production
with the Berlin
Staatsoper unter den Linden where it has entered the repertory
successfully. The Tsar's
Bride is often played in Russia and Germany but it had never
previously been performed in Milan.
Elsewhere in Italy,
however, over the last thirty years, I recall performances in
Rome
and in Catania. In Rome, the production had been imported from the Washington
Opera; the stage direction
had been entrusted to Galina Visnevskaya and the sets
and costumes to
Zack Brown. Mstislav Rostropovich
was in the pit. The opera was seen as a colossal historical
pageantry, clearly set in 1572. In Catania, production and singers
had been imported from the small but innovative Moscow
Helikon Theatre.
Dmitri Bertman was the mastermind; with very limited means, he was able to
marry tradition
and innovation and to give a timeless meaning to
The Tsar's Bride.
In this La Scala-Staatsoper production, Dmitri Tcherniakov signs the dramaturgy
and sets, the costumes are by Elena Zaytseva, Gelb Filshtinsky produces the lighting
and the videos are by Raketa Media. Daniel Barenboim is
in the pit. No doubt, there is very strong
team work. In order to keep the tension
high, Barenboim
does not expand the tempos
(as he usually does) but tightens them. Also a folkloristic chorus in
the first act is cut. The intention is clear: to show a senseless cruel orgy of
power,
technology and sex in a country doomed to self destruction. It is fair to say
that this was Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov's
intention. In spite of the composer's
fame and the importance of this opera in the 'Italian style'
(with musical numbers, arias, duets, quartets
and alike), broadly patterned on Verdi's La Forza del
Destino, The
Tsar's Bride was not premiered in one of the Imperial Theatres
but in a small private secondary theatre in Moscow. The Board of Censors knew that it
contained dynamite.
This production ignites the dynamite as it shows a corrupt, perverted,
lurid ruling class that destroys all the elements
for renewal, ie the young girl, her boyfriend and her family. A
hopeless picture. Especially in the days when Eastern Europe is
going through major sufferings.
The chorus, directed by Bruno Casoni, deserves a special mention; they
are one of the protagonists
and handle the Russian language
very well. In the large cast,
the women's voices
are most impressive,
especially Olga Peretyatko (Marfa, the young girl) and Marina Prudenskaya
(Lyubasha, Gryaznoy's older mistress). Among the men Johannes Martin Kränzel is
an excellent Gryaznoy. Anatoly Kotscherga (Marfa's father)
seemed slightly tired; at La Scala there is still a vivid memory of
his Boris Godunov
with Claudio Abbado in
the pit). Tobias Schabel (Likov, Marfa's boyfriend) has a generous volume
but the role might be better interpreted with a more velvet voice.
In spite of these imperfections, this was a truly memorable evening.
Copyright © 10 March 2014 Giuseppe
Pennisi,
Rome, Italy
Rome, Italy
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