Boris Godunov
by Modest Mussorgsky
English National Opera
London Coliseum
10 Nov - 1 Dec 2008
I found it hard not to be disappointed by ENO's new production of Musorgsky's Boris Godunov. Lots of things should have been going for it. Tim Albery as the producer, Edward Gardner as conductor and Peter Rose as Boris should all have made the evening a spectacular success. In the end they made a great opera turgid bar a few moments.
The first problem was the version selected. This was the opera's first version from 1869. Tempted by its relative brevity it was played without an interval. Though the drama gained some cohesion, it was a slog for the orchestra, whose tuning began to slip by the end, and the audience, whose attention began to wander. There is no need to perform the opera in one go as the scenes have little unity of time or place. Moreover, however interestingly stark Musorgsky's original scoring may be, and however preferable to the more luxuriant revision by Rimsky-Korsakov (confidently condemned by a good many critics without sufficient knowledge of the score), the unrelenting restraint of the sound could have done with a break. It has to be said also that Musorgsky's 1872 revision is far preferable to this first version. Not only is the grimness alleviated with the Polish scenes, but, much more importantly, the sixth scene of 1869 was transposed in 1872 to the end, thereby making the melodramatic scene of Boris's death a prelude to a scene where various successors are paraded before the Russian people who duly follow the false Dmitry, who promises to be no better than Pushkin, falsifying history, made Boris. The people may be oppressed, but often they are the victims of their own folly. This is much closer to Musorgsky's world-view. Albery seems to have guessed this as he leaves the 'Holy Simpleton' on stage as an observer throughout the final scene, even though (a) such a character would never have been admitted to the court, and (b) there is no indication in the original edition that he remains to observe. He should have done, but he had to wait till 1872 to be able to do so. What's the point in performing the 1869 version if you make this tacit apology for it?
Historic productions of Boris have spared no expense on a lavish coronation scene, nor have performers of the central role foregone any histrionics, as the celebrated Chaliapin death scene demonstrated. Losing some of these might have been a good idea if other equally convincing things replaced them. Setting the whole opera, court-scenes and all, in a barn lessened the contrast between the toiling peasantry and the scheming court. The latter was barely represented except by an incongruous switch of costume-date, a platform and scarcely throne-like chair, into which Boris occasionally squeezed himself. The barn setting was remarkably like one of the illustrations of one of the 19th century Russian productions, perhaps the first, but in that production the scene was replaced by more extravagant portrayals, particularly of the Coronation Scene.
The production and the version were not the only disappointment. Peter Rose in the title role also failed to live up to expectations. Never once did he portray the message of his famous words from the Coronation scene: "My soul is sad". Both Pushkin and Musorgsky, however much they may smeared the original Boris's reputation, at least made out of him a kind of Lear character, burdened with the weight of responsibility and office. It is true that both the original author and composer made him more like Dostoyevsky's Raskolnikov unable to endure the nightmares he suffers due to his having had the true tsarevich murdered. Yet Rose's performance seemed too easily taken from the book of agony clichés: too much staggering around the stage to no purpose, too much about to collapse on the arm of his far too puny son. Nowhere was there a hint of the kind of man who could rule his subjects outwardly but not the furies within. Peter Rose was also unimpressive vocally, never really managing to convey the measure of Boris with what could have been his most powerful weapon.
Peter Rose was not helped by the leaden speeds adopted by Edward Gardner for much of the first half of the opera. This made the magnificent Coronation Scene sluggish, particularly with Gardner's insistence on an overloving attention to long melodic lines. This was exactly what Rimsky-Korsakov had in mind to put into the score, and what choosing the earlier version was supposed to get away from. Gardner however was at his best in directing some excellent choral scenes, and in the reflective moments (good to be slow here), such as when Pimen is writing his history in his cell. But it was not really Gardner's conducting that made this scene begin to leap off the page. It was the outstanding performance by Brindley Sherratt who gave Pimen just the right gravitas in this scene, and urgency in his prophecy to Boris in the final scene.
Luckily Brindley Sherratt was not the only glimmer of hope in the performance. The wily Prince Shuisky sung by John Graham-Hall and the magnificent Jonathan Veira as Varlaam both began to hint that under the cumbersome speeds and brooding sets a good performance of the opera could have been in the making. Jonathan Veira, in particular, gave the jovial rogue a richly diverse characterization, both as an actor and with his vocal range. Both Hall and Veira were joined in being excellent by Robert Murray's moving 'Simpleton' (or 'Fool' as he is more often called).
All in all, despite some good performances by soloists, chorus and the woodwind of the orchestra, this was a night to forget and hope for better next time.
Roderick Swanston