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Act III

After some decidedly lacklustre singing and orchestral playing over the past couple of seasons, it's a genuine pleasure to see WNO back to its world class form with this production. Richard Jones' setting dates from 2000, when it was well received for its innovation and imagination,  but nine years on  in its first ever revival, his vision remains striking but slightly perplexing. The blend of decay and gothic horror designed to comment on Tchaikovsky's emotional life as well as the plot is as powerful as ever but sadly retains an element that feels thoroughly out of place.

The action is updated to post-revolutionary Russia where the Countess and Lisa live together in a decaying mansion. Despite being part of Lenin’s Russia, the Countess has squads of servants and can give splendid parties because she is so rich.  The Empress Catherine visits her (to the awe and joy of all the guests) and the Countess recalls the days of Mme de Pompadour, when she gained the secret of the three cards by sleeping with the allegedly immortal German alchemist, the Comte St. Germain.

So far so good. Anachronisms don't matter much in the world of the imagination  - Lisa commits suicide by putting a plastic bag over her head - so it is easy to read all this as the demented ramblings of a very old lady who lives in the past and enjoys putting on a show by dressing like Barbara Cartland.

But what finally lost the first night audience was the giant skeleton in Act III - as it did for Seen and Heard's reviewer back in 2000.  Everything was fine at the beginning of the act, with an impressive bird’s eye view of Herman in his bed - effectively claustrophobic and graphically illustrating his increasingly obsessive state of mind -  until  the skeleton crept from under the covers to embrace him fondly with enormous hands. This apparition of the deceased Countess - frightened to death earlier when Herman ripped away the towels covering her in her bath - was greeted with roars of laughter from the audience, repeated more loudly when the spectre leered through the roof light at the card game where Herman loses by playing the Queen of Spades.

Lisa, Tatiana Monogarova  and Herman, Misha Didyk
 

Well OK.  Leaving aside the idea that Richard Jones doesn't know what he's doing - unlikely,  since the direction of the crowds and the puppet play in earlier acts were outstanding - the laughter might  be a deliberately intended catharsis opening everyone's eyes to the outmoded folly of what they had just seen - personal obsession, a doomed political revolution or aspects of Tchaikovsky's guilt-ridden life. Or then again,  it could be yet another deliberate 'post-modern' attempt to subvert  opera as an art form; a further comment that the entire genre  'lives in the past',  no longer serves any real function for today’s society and needs a response that  exposes it for the pointless exercise it is. The production didn't need any of that: it makes the important points more than clearly.

With only a couple of small quibbles,  the cast was uniformly excellent but first mention must go to Alexandra Sherman as Polina, whose truly beautiful voice makes her a singer well worth travelling to hear.  Tómas Tómasson as a distinctly malevolent Count Tomsky (and Plutus in the puppet show) and David Soar as Surin each gave first rate performances and Dario Solari as Prince Yeletsky - despite a few errors in tuning - was every inch the honourable nobleman, Tchaikovsky's equivalent of Gremin in Onegin.

Of the Countess, Ann Murray and Lisa, Tatiana Monogarova,  it remains only to say that they were both in the finest form for this opening night, and were not only excellent vocally  but were equally polished interpreters of their roles. Each conveyed every aspect of their characters' curious interior worlds, their tragic inabilities to communicate or to understand what was being communicated by others, their confusion and their ultimately doomed relationships with themselves and their contexts. Herman, Misha Didyk, completed a doomed trio with some powerful and (naturally) Russian-tenor singing and his descent into progressively isolated madness was completely convincing.

The WNO chorus and orchestra were also on fine  form under Alexander Polianichko's leadership and John MacFarlane's sets - especially the  overlayed painted screens at the beginning - were marvellously skillful.

The production's run ends at the Wales Millennium Centre on May 19th and its only touring venue is at Birmingham Hippodrome on May 29th.  Grab tickets while you can - and have more than a chuckle at the skeleton.

Bill  Kenny

Pictures © Clive Barda

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