"Why do I go into
the dark, frozen cells of criminals
with the poet of Crime and Punishment?
Into the minds of criminals and there
I find a spark of God. You will not
wipe away the crimes from their brow,
but equally you will not extinguish
the spark of God. Into what depths
it leads - how much truth there is
in his work! See how the old man slides
down from the oven, shuffles to the
corpse, makes the sign of the cross
over it, and with a rusty voice sobs
the words: 'A mother gave birth even
to him!' Those are the bright places
in the house of the dead."
From
a note found in Janáček's clothing
after his death.
If opera DVDs come
much better than this, then I shall
be very surprised. I'd go as far as
saying in fact, that this disc is
a timely reminder of why we bother
with opera at all: when so much of
it is poorly sung and played these
days, and when so many opera
productions come out as posturing
nonsense staged by inept directors
searching desperately for 'significance'.
Ironically of course, it was Patrice
Chéreau's production of the
1980 Bayreuth Ring that
started the trend for director-led
opera, but he had the good sense to
collaborate closely with Pierre Boulez
resulting in an unusual but arresting
production which is still well regarded
to this day.
Dostoevsky's semi-fictionalised
account of his experiences in penal
servitude in a Siberian prison camp,
Memoirs (sometimes Notes) from
the house of the dead,
serves as the source for Janáček's
libretto. Dostoevsky records his time
spent as a political prisoner
under Czar Nicolai I, initially
having been sentenced to death for
his crime, though in fact
serving only four years of his commuted
sentence between 1850 and 1854 followed
by a further six years of internal
exile during which he was
banished from St Petersburg. Much
of his religious hope sprang
from this incarceration - at
least in part - and the character
Alexandr Petrovič Gorjančikov,
the aristocratic prisoner who is also
released early in the plot of
From the House of the Dead, is
clearly modelled on Dostoevsky himself.
So
far as I can see this is the only
DVD recording of Janáček’s least
performed opera, which would be valuable
in itself if that was its only
merit. But the disc has
much more to offer because it
is an extremely faithful account
of the most recent – and very
likely the last - collaboration
between Boulez and Chéreau,
after which Boulez announced his decision
to conduct no more opera. When the
production was staged in Vienna
and Amsterdam before reaching the
Aix en Provence festival in 2007,
it attracted almost universal critical
acclaim for both the production and
for the music. It will travel to the
New York Metropolitan Opera in late
2009 and to Milan's Teatro La Scala
in the following Spring.
The opera recounts
the arrival
of the nobleman Gorjančikov in prison,
which is also home to a wounded eagle
- deliberately a wooden toy in Chéreau's
adaptation. After particularly
brutal treatment by the prison Commandant,
Gorjančikov befriends the boy
prisoner Aljeja who is stabbed
by another inmate and later dies.
Three prisoners recount the crimes
that landed them in prison, the inmates
are brought gifts by local villagers
at Easter and perform two bawdy
plays, as well as taking comfort from
a visiting local prostitute.
Ultimately, Gorjančikov
is released with grovelling apologies
from the Commandant, more motivated
by fear than remorse one suspects.
The eagle is healed and released too,
but for the rest of the inmates nothing
else changes. Most will die in prison,
like Aljeja and the bully Luka
Kusmitch, who is given his come-uppance
by the murderer Šiškov.
What Chéreau's
production does is to bring this little
known opera completely alive. Setting
the action within a walled chamber
rather than in the Siberian countryside
produces a sense of timelessness:
the prison could be anywhere and in
any century, even the present day. There
is a huge cast of soloists and
chorus and with extras added there
are 75 people on stage at times, mostly
the prisoners and their guards. But
even so, the main characters stand
out as personalities, some violent,
some humane and some simply hopeless
victims clinging on to survival as
best they know how. The action is
always gripping and involving, so
that even without an interval - which
is how the piece should be performed
- the hour and a half or so that the
production lasts simply flies along.
There can be very few opera productions
better directed than this.
Boulez's conducting
is never less than magnificent too.
This is one of those rare performances
which feels special from its opening
moments and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra
play marvellously throughout. The
singing is faultless with not a note
out of place to my ear either from
the soloists or the immaculately disciplined
Arnold Schoenberg Choir. Like
many of Janáček's
other operas this one has no set 'arias'
at all, but the composer's famous
speech-melodies are there in profusion
set in a rich tapestry of his familiar
tonal/ modal harmonies. This is the
culmination of Janáček's operatic
writing - which of course he
never heard performed himself - and
uses the critical edition by Sir Charles
Mackerras and John Tyrrell.
Such is the standard
of excellence from all the principals
- including the veteran tenor Heinz
Zednik, still in fine voice for his
small part as the Old Prisoner - that
it is almost invidious to single people
out for special mention. Even
so, Olaf Bär (Gorjančikov,
the nobleman), the German tenor Erik
Stoklossa (Aljeja), - an unusual
but wholly sensible choice as the
part was written for mezzo-soprano
- John Mark Ainsley (Skuratov),
Gerd Grochowski (Šiskov) and Jiři
Sulženko (The Commandant) all give
bravura performances as both
consummate singers and actors, to
whom singing in the Czech language
seems as natural as breathing. This
is wonderful casting for a remarkable
opera which leaves only a single question in
my mind: however can I get over to
New York next year?
Bill Kenny
see
also Erik Chisholm's The Operas of
Leos Janáček: Chapter
1