Tchaikovsky was
a man of the theatre, whatever the enduring successes his other
compositions have received. His contribution to the world of
ballet and its development goes without saying. In opera too
he displayed a conspicuous commitment throughout his creative
life. His collection of fine operatic works have gained a secure
position in the recorded and live repertories and are increasingly
valued with the passing years. On the international front, the
Pushkin-inspired operas Eugene Onegin and The Queen
of Spades have long been established, but the other pieces
too are making their mark.
First performed
in Moscow in 1884, Mazeppa is also based on Pushkin,
as Tchaikovsky himself explained: ‘I have reread the libretto
and Pushkin’s poem. I found many of the verses and situations
moving, and I now find myself at work upon the scene with Maria
and Mazeppa, which in the libretto reproduces Pushkin’s text
word for word.’ This emotionally charged scene was actually
his starting point, and its expressive intensity is well captured
in this recorded performance, thanks especially to the powerful
performances of the two singers, Galina Gorchakova and Sergei
Leiferkus.
Recorded in Gothenburg
in 1993, the performance retains its vivid sweep in this new
presentation. The story has some of the conventional operatic
tensions between love and duty at its heart, while the political
aspect is as important as the love interest. In this regard
Järvi’s committed conducting is itself a central force, with
the scenes shaped with a compelling urgency and direction. The
Gothenburg Orchestra plays well in every way, and if the recording
lacks depth and definition in demonstration terms it is still
perfectly satisfactory.
Another highlight
of the score is Maria’s poignant lullaby over the body of her
dead lover Andrei. Make no mistake, this is among Tchaikovsky’s
finest inspirations, tender and sincere, and Gorchakova delivers
what the scene requires. As such this is surely the special
experience, at the centre of the conception, that the composer
intended.
Although Tchaikovsky’s
surviving correspondence reveals that he was racked with doubts
over the music he had written, much of what he achieved is worthy
of the best of him, and the results are magnificent. This is
perhaps the most important issue for the prospective purchaser
to bear in mind.
In the title role
Sergei Leiferkus is on the top of his form. The Russian qualities
and timbre of his voice are just what the role requires, and
the characterization is compellingly achieved. The other principal
singers are scarcely less fine. Sergei Larin, in the tenor role
of Andrei, may not have to express similar complexities of character,
but the heroic tone he brings adds a real stature. Maria’s father
Kochubey is sung by Anatoly Kotschberga, whose rich-toned bass
also generates the strong personality the plot demands. Järvi
and the orchestra really come into their own, in the centre-stage
sense, during the fierce battle music that opens the Third Act.
This
performance uses Tchaikovsky’s revised ending, more conventional
in manner than his original version. It seems a pity that the
opportunity was not taken to record them both - as for example,
was the case with Charles Mackerras and his Decca recording
of Janáček’s Jenufå.
The reissue has
a nicely produced but ultimately disappointing booklet that
includes a list of the characters and singers, plus a tri-lingual
synopsis of the action. This is divided up scene-by-scene so
as to coincide with the organisation of the cue points on the
discs. Although this is fine so far as it goes, it is in no
sense a substitute for a libretto, since some of the descriptions
are very thin indeed. What the listener requires is to have
to hand a copy of the Viking Opera Guide or, better still, the
third volume of David Brown’s compelling and readable critical
biography of Tchaikovsky.
Terry Barfoot
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