This Christmas few shows will be able to rival this new production of Tchaikovsky’s little heard (at least in London) opera The Tsarina’s Slippers (aka Vakula the Smith or Cherevicki) for sheer spectacle though others may prove more enjoyable. As I entered the auditorium I heard the man in front of me gasp; rightly, as one is confronted by a wonderful Russian, peasant-inspired scene of magic and colour replacing the curtain. Much of the look of the production aims for this kind of awe.
      The Tsarina’s Slippers is Tchaikovsky’s third opera, and was composed at much the same time as Musorgsky was pursuing another kind of nationalism in his Boris Godunov. Born of the same spirit and search for a national identity, Tchaikovsky pursued Russianness through the folklore and symbolic peasantry of Gogol, rather than the epic images of Pushkin. The story of the opera comes from a series of eight short stories entitled Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka, written between 1831-2 when Gogol was twenty-two. Tchaikovsky had read these stories, notably ‘the Eve before Christmas’ (the story on which the opera is based) by the time he was twelve, so it had been embedded in his mind for a long time before he decided to turn it into an opera in the 1870s. Prior to The Tsarina’s Slippers Tchaikovsky had included some ‘folk’ dances in his grand opera ‘Oprichnik’, the first of his operas to survive. In it Tchaikovsky was closer to Musorgsky’s Boris, at least as far as the story’s provenance goes, so it might have been a surprise to some that he changed from grandness to intimacy, reversing the roles of peasantry and aristocracy in the process. Tchaikovsky grew very fond of this opera and revised it in the 1880s, changing the title from Vakula the Smith to Cherevichki, which has now become morphed into The Tsarina’s Slippers.
      The Tsarina’s Slippers is about peasants, even serfs, and their supernatural world of witches and devils, though the aristocracy, notably the Tsar and his entourage make an appearance. The main story is about the love of two ordinary Ukrainians who are finally brought together after the vain girl, Oxana, almost costs her young man (Vakula) his life. Short-term tragedy and unrequited love are mingled with the farce-like comedy of the witch Solokha, hiding of her multiple suitors, and the ridiculousness of the devil’s attempted revenge on Vakula for painting a satirical picture of him on the church wall. Big human issues (love and death) are played out amidst comic turmoil, which enabled Tchaikovsky to turn his hand both to peasant dances and love music. It suited him very well, and he could draw on his ability to characterize each with often seductive music, especially for the final chorus and the Cossack dance at the Imperial Court and for the lovelorn Vakula, superbly sung and characterized by Vsevolod Grivnov.
      This new production boasts a nearly all-Russian cast and thus a number of singers not heard before at Covent Garden. The cast was almost uniformly quite good but not ‘that good’. Many Russian female singers develop an overly rich tone with sometimes wide vibrato. This is true of Olga Guryakova who sounds too mature for Oxana, who is a silly slip of a girl. Nor could she match either her rather statuesque acting or vocal control with the part she was playing. That said, Guryakova in places rises above this, especially in her duets with Vakula.
      On the opening night Maxim Mikhailov (the Devil) seemed unable to manage all his high notes, and Solokha (the witch) sang well but too uniformly throughout. But neither singer was helped by the fact that the designs of Mikhail Mokrov, and to a lesser extent the costumes of Tatiana Noginova, had been allowed to dominate the production of Francesca Zambello, who managed to make most of the comic scenes unfunny and the final reconciliation rather lukewarm.
      The production combines the Royal Opera and the Royal Ballet, as there is a good deal of dancing in the work. Alastair Marriott’s choreography has some charm but little flair. The underwater scene was sweet but not quite enchanting, and only the Cossack dance really sprang from the stage.
      One or two cameo roles raised the level of the performance, notably Sergei Leiferkus as His Highness and Jeremy White as the Master of Ceremonies.
      Overall, this new production is a mixed bag, and as such does not serve the Tchaikovsky really well. Alexander Polianichko elicits some warm playing from the ROH orchestra, but that is not enough. The love scenes should ravish, and the dance scenes entrance in strong contrast. But, instead, all seems to occupy a kind of rather safe middle-ground. I hope this changes as the run proceeds, as the work deserves more. I can quite understand why Tchaikovsky was so fond of the work, as it is full of beautifully conceived orchestrations and melodies. The score has great life, as the old Russian Melodiya and the Garsington production showed. The work should not be judged by the production. That said, every effort has been made to make this a spectacular show, and this has been lavished on a little performed work. But just because it glisters, does not mean it is gold.
Roderick Swanston