Live Review: Sadler’s Wells Theatre – 17 and 18 September 2008
Even rarer than encountering Rimsky’s centennial tribute to Pushkin, was the experience of witnessing an evening in this age of Regie-opera where music and production were symbiotically linked. Pushkin’s shaggy-dog story (Cinderella + Shakespeare’s ‘A Winter’s Tale’ + a plethora of allusions to transformative Russian folklore), which many commentators regard as his purest essence, is a masterpiece of stylization: a knowing apotheosis of skaz (literally ‘tale-telling’), where the formulaic manner (or skeleton) of folk-tale narrative transcends its matter. Rimsky consciously matched this in his neo-nationalist score, with its device of a trumpet fanfare that commands attention at the start of each scene, its toy-like sonorities, symmetries and self-conscious folk allusions mixed with stock gestures from opera buffa that eschew psychology or emotional involvement. This is, in turn, perfectly complemented by the filigree art-nouveau style of illustrator Ivan Bilibin (1876-1942), whose 1905 picture book of Tsar Saltan is a classic, replete with folk-derived abstractions, symbols and emblems. Bilibin later designed productions of the opera in 1928 and 1937, and it is his later version that is recreated in Vladimir Firer’s designs and (often dazzling) costumes for this 2005 Mariinsky production. It is a throwback to an earlier age of theatrical illusion, with flimsy drop curtains and cut-out props, that do full justice to the operas extravagant scenic demands. The score’s most familiar music, the entr’actes or ‘musical pictures’: The Tsar’s Departure (to battle), the Tsarina in a Barrel at Sea, the Flight of the Bumblebee and the Three Wonders were enhanced by computer-generated animation of Bilibin’s images: up-to-the-minute technology evoking an old-fashioned magic lantern show.
Though Alexander Petrov’s production was literal, some crucial expository storytelling fell by the wayside. We didn’t quite see the Tsar overhearing the wishes of the three sisters at the very beginning, and the comings and goings in the dramaturgically faulty first act were further confused by unnecessary extras, obscuring Babarikha’s interception of the Tsar’s message (and messenger); the catalyst for all future events. Four white-clad bearers delivered props to principals, and formed a feathery entourage for the Swan-Bird; her transformation into a Princess was cute, more Folies-Bergère than folklore, leading to the thought that Prince Guidon may end up with Danny La Rue. Much more production detail was in evidence the second night – a casualty of touring, no doubt, though chorus blocking was ill-disciplined and occasionally soloists looked stranded.
The singing was not as consistent as one might expect from the Mariinsky. Daniil Shtoda’s soft-centred timbre seemed underpowered for Prince Guidon (Oct 17), and he seemed uninvolved; Sergey Semishkur (18th) was livelier, but lacked tonal beauty. Tenor honours were stolen by Vassily Gorshkov in the bit-part of the Old Grandpa, with a firmly projected, resinous timbre and effortless charisma.
The wicked sisters Natalia Evstafieva and Tatiana Kravtsova were strong, and the Matchmaker Babarikha, – the real villain of the piece – Nadezha Vasilieva - hammed things up splendidly, without convincing that her intermittently fruity contralto was functioning quite correctly. Both Militrissas (Victoria Yastrebova and Ekaterina Solovieva) were efficient, but the score’s soprano plums go the Swan Princess. Lyudmila Dudinova (Oct 17) revealed an impressively projected opulent voice-in-progress, but she tended to sing flat. Olga Trifonova’s (Oct 18) bright, focused tone provided the frissons that Rimsky intended. Alexey Tannovsky’s Tsar Saltan was resplendent, noticeably more so on the second night – in fact many of the basses in bit parts were world-class, notably Edward Tsanga’s Jester and Mikhail Kolelishvili’s Third Shipmaster.
The orchestra played with gusto, with virtuoso trumpet, woodwind and solo string turns, many military, marine and tintinnabulatory textures registering joyously. Tugan Sokhiev led a speedy and incisive account that was deficient in nuance and rather too loud, often drowning the excellent chorus. Rimsky’s Achilles’ heel is his rhythm: he tends to write obsessively symmetrical sequences, and this rhythmic predictability was exacerbated by such a band-masterly approach. The ravishing harmonies and textures of the Swan Princess and the unusually (for Rimsky) warm-hearted love music needed more rapture and rubato.
The reconciliations in the final scene were indeed joyous, Rimsky manages to cap all previous splendours with a chorus that is astonishingly prophetic of the opening of Stravinsky’s Petrushka, the masterly tone-painting revealing the magic island’s three wonders, concluding with an epilogue, a Hoedown (or Hopak) in which cast announces the end of the story by finally singing the fanfare that has dominated the evening: a nice touch. The sight of happily reunited couples, dressed head-to-toe in sparkling gold and silver against a backdrop of the magic city Ledenetz, the glitzy mini-monument housing the silver magic squirrel and thirty-three silver warriors lit in turquoise light, not to mention the riot of other costumes of richer hue, was a hymn to bling-bling not seen outside a Russian oligarch’s Chelsea front room, where doubtless, the present day Three Wonders will be found. In fact, a well-known progressive opera director was sighted at the premiere; rumour has it he fled at the interval, doubtless to submit a Regie production proposal to ENO showing us just that.
By the way, a black mark to the management for selling a programme (for £4) that did not contain one iota of information about this rare piece.
[first published in OPERA magazine]
© JULIAN GRANT 2008