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Music
Tchaikovsky
Director
James Macdonald
Designer
Tobias Hoheisel
Conductor
Tugan Sokhiev
Cast
Onegin
Vladimir Moroz
Tatyana
Amanda Roocroft
Lensky
Marius Brenciu
Olga
Ekaterina
Semenchuk
M. Triquet
Robert Tear
Prince Gremin
Brindley Sherratt |
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Sadler's
Wells
Welsh National Opera
9 - 13 March
2004 |
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The story goes
something like this: angst-ridden composer
in denial over his homosexuality marries
obsessed female pupil, but after a few
weeks of wedded misery makes half-hearted
suicide attempt, before shaping his
emotional outpouring in the form of
a fourth symphony and his greatest opera.
The poor wife, meanwhile, is committed
to a mental hospital. It is hard for
us (as it must have been for the composer
himself) not to regard Tchaikovsky's
life as a particularly lurid opera plot
derived from a Russian novel.
The story
of Eugene
Onegin takes
a somewhat different turn, but the themes
of sexual self-denial and unrequited
passion, of wasted opportunity and consuming
guilt, are tellingly similar.
Pushkin's
hero is a man in denial whose emotional
dishonesty has tragic consequences.
Sophisticated Onegin spurns innocent
country girl Tatyana; flirts with his
best friend Lensky's fiancee and then
kills him in a duel. He returns after
two years abroad to find Tatyana married,
and realising his mistake, tries unsuccessfully
to woo her away. It is the pair's fate
never to taste the love they crave:
that happiness , as they admit in the
final scene, had once been so attainable,
so close.
The requirement
to condense Pushkin's verse novel into
what Tchaikovsky described as ëseven
lyric scenes' has meant a certain telescoping
of the drama. In the novel Tatyana does
not fall in love with Onegin instantly,
there is a passage of time before the
famous letter scene in which she writes
to him declaring her love. Similarly,
after seeing Tatyana again in St. Petersburg
Onegin bombards her with letters which
go unanswered. In despair, he finally
goes to her house as in the final scene
of the opera.
These
unseen narrative entr'actes would have
been familiar to Tchaikovsky's audience
who all read Pushkin from a relatively
early age, but they are less so to a
modern operagoer. This Welsh National
Opera production's director, James MacDonald,
has the difficult task not only to make
these unsympathetic characters come
to life but also convincingly to fill
in the narrative gaps. Crucially, Onegin's
first appearance towards the end of
the opening scene must plant the seed
which grows in Tatyana's mind, culminating
in the letter scene. Tchaikovsky gives
him only a few stilted lines to sing
to Tatyana yet the audience must truly
believe that she has fallen for this
aloof, but attractive, poseur.
Unfortunately
Onegin's entrance in this production
has an alienating effect. He is attired
in black frock coat with a ludicrously
tall top hat -more undertaker than urban
dandy - and he is played stiffly by
Vladimir Moroz, a young star from the
Mariinsky Theatre company. It is hard
to imagine that even the most naive
and impressionable country girl would
be impressed.
Thankfully
Onegin's stage persona strengthens as
the production continues. The hairstyle
changes accordingly, starting neat but
becoming longer after his absence abroad,
and then completely unkempt as, at the
last, he vainly tries to destroy Tatyana's
marriage. Moroz's icy detachment suits
the snow-covered landscape of the duel
scene, but it was disappointing that
he appeared unable to bring greater
depth to this fascinating role. It has
to be said, however, that Moroz's voice,
in contrast to his dramatic presence,
is gloriously complex and powerful;
The WNO have certainly done audiences
proud in being able to attract international
artists of this calibre. Interestingly,
Garry Magee will play the part from
19 March to 3 April.
The role
of Tatyana is taken by another glittering
name, Amanda Roocroft. The voice, with
its controlled vibrato, is mature, but
Roocroft looks the part. At the beginning
we see her girlishly lying on the grass
engrossed in a romantic novel. In the
ensuing letter scene, the immaturity
is reinforced as she writes her misguided
missive lying on her bed. Having despatched
the letter, in probably the most memorable
moment of the production, she blissfully
throws her clothes around the room and
goes to sleep in the morning sunlight.
Roocroft
clearly conveys the chilling effect
of Onegin's subsequent rejection and
her discomfort at his boorish antics
at her name-day celebration, all achieved
through body language and eye contact.
It was
an imaginative directorial idea to have
Onegin produce Tatyana's original letter
at the end to prove to her that she
had pledged to love him. But again the
short musical time-scale does not allow
for such dramatic niceties to have any
real impact, and the clumsy way in which
Moroz pulled the letter from his pocket
gave the impression of hasty afterthought.
Lensky
is brilliantly played by tenor Marius
Brenciu, a former Cardiff Singer of
the Year. In the short time available,
he convincingly works up into jealous
rage as Onegin seduces his betrothed,
Olga - one could almost feel his pain
more keenly than that of the principal
lovers.
The remainder
of the cast are all equally strong.
The veteran Robert Tear comes on as
the absurd Monsieur Triquet and delivers
his sentimental ditty with masterly
presence. Even the tiniest of roles,
that of Lensky's Second in the duel
scene, is beautifully sung by David
Soar.
Musical
Director Tugan Sokhiev - whom I last
saw being cowed by a magnificently headstrong
Mikhail Pletnev in Rachmaninov's 3rd
piano concerto - here has unfettered
command of his musical forces. He conducts
his compatriot's score with flair, passion
and drive; the orchestra respond in
kind. Tchaikovsky, for all his glory,
can be cruel to musicians. Originally
conceived as a chamber opera, the music
of Eugene
Onegin contains
much exposed woodwind and French horn
writing, all superbly encompassed by
the WNO players.
The minimal
set by Tobias Hoheisel - this is a touring
production, one should remember ‚ is
nevertheless highly effective. A partition
across mid-stage, slightly offset and
with a large cut-out, gives a sense
of perspective and provides additional
means of entrance and exit. Each of
the seven scenes is subtly different,
reflecting Tatyana's journey from the
pastoral simplicity of the Larin estate
to the urban sophistication of St. Petersburg.
Hedges, windows, snow and mirrors were
all simply but tastefully incorporated
along the way. All leads inexorably
to emptiness of the final scene ‚ containing
no more than Tatyana's daybed, her books
and a tantalising glimpse of another
life through the window.
Choreographer
Stuart Hopps has done a splendid job
of turning the chorus into dancers for
the evening. Granted, they are not the
Mariinsky Ballet, but in the fourth
scene we were treated to a waltz, a
cotillion and even a Ukrainian folk
dance. In the penultimate scene, set
in the pillared grandeur of St. Petersburg,
the stage partition tended to obstruct
an otherwise impressive polonaise.
Another
reason the dance scenes were so successful
is due in no small measure to Hoheisel's
costumes. As surtitle translator Simon
Rees explained in his extremely erudite
and witty pre-opera talk, the decision
had been made to set the opera in the
1873 of Tchaikovsky's time rather than
the 1821 of Pushkin's. The intervening
fifty years saw the rise in technology
of aniline dyes and the consequent rise
in bright colours. Given this, it is
the more extraordinary that the choice
of Onegin's first costume is so odd.
No doubt copious research was undertaken,
but if it doesn't work dramatically
then one needs to bend the rules a little.
And when
a production is as strong as this, then
such details become disproportionately
significant.
WNO's
Eugene
Onegin continues
its run in Birmingham on 16 March, and
continues in Milton Keynes, Southampton,
Swansea and Bristol.
Simon Heilbron |
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