The Gambler, based on the Dostoyevsky novella of the
same name, is Prokofiev’s most challenging opera for the listener,
though it is far from avant-garde for its time. While it is
true that The Fiery Angel (1919-27) has some difficult
patches in its otherworldly character, it is still relatively
traditional alongside the declamatory, through-composed style
of The Gambler. As those familiar with the opera are
aware, Prokofiev, who wrote his own libretto, truncated Dostoyevsky’s
story, a gutsy move considering the fact the novella is considered
a literary masterpiece. But Prokofiev’s story works better here,
because its blunt ending perfectly fits his often “steely” music
and the heartless emotions of many of his characters. As for
the work’s artistic merit, it is among the stronger operas from
the first half of the 20th century and certainly
one of Prokofiev’s greatest, standing with The Fiery Angel
and War and Peace (1941-52), of the eight he composed.
The first recording of The Gambler to attain wide availability
in the West was a 1977 Columbia/Melodiya 3-LP set led by Gennady
Rozhdestvensky. In fact, as far as I can tell that release,
originally taped in the USSR in 1966, was the first complete
recording of the work. It was a good one. A 1982 effort by Alexander
Lazarev and the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra and Chorus, which
appeared on a Melodiya/Australia CD around 1990, was also quite
good, if you could stand the dreadful sound: the singers had
microphones placed down their throats while the orchestra played
at a distance. Gergiev’s Kirov effort was issued in 1999 on
Philips and trumped all the competition up to that point. His
tempos were brisk, coming in seven minutes ahead of Lazarev
and ten minutes or so ahead of Rozhdestvensky, and the resulting
breathless take on the work was exciting from start to finish.
Here Barenboim is nearly fourteen minutes longer than Gergiev,
and while his way with the work is less driven, he captures
the freneticism, the desperation and the emotional pitch of
this colorful opera just as convincingly. Moreover, his effort
is for the moment the only video recording of the work available.
But even if there were more competition in the DVD realm, I
suspect Barenboim would be hard to surpass.
When this production was presented in Berlin in March, 2008,
the critics hailed it as a brilliant effort in virtually every
respect, and audiences responded in kind. The La Scala performances
the following June, for some reason, were less successful with
critics. Dmitri Tcherniakov’s production takes the work out
of the 19th century with contemporary costumes and
sets. On stage there is a sterile, cold look, with plenty of
shiny steel in view: notice the steel pillars across the stage,
and the steel-framed windows in Alexei’s room. Their presence
apparently symbolizes a hardness to the emotions of the characters
in the opera and, some would say, to Prokofiev’s music. True,
the score lacks lush themes and while the opera is all about
gambling — gambling on the roulette wheel, and, more importantly,
gambling in life — the music has a measure of feeling in its
dark lyricism especially after Babulenka arrives at the casino.
Admittedly, it hardly wallows in empathy for its mostly hapless
characters. The music does push them along, however, seeming
to goad them toward their inevitable tragedies.
Misha Didyk as Alexei and Kristine Opolais as Polina in the
leads are outstanding. They work splendidly as both lovers and
adversaries. Didyk has a charisma in his boyish exuberance and
charm, and Opolais has a voice that matches her physical beauty
and alluringly mysterious manner. Vladimir Ognovenko as the
General is excellent, his bass voice resounding in power and
depth. He is the embodiment of desperation, of greed, of longing
for youthful love. Sylvia De La Muela as the beautiful young
Blanche, the object of the General’s affections, is deliciously
opportunistic and cheap. The rest of the cast, including the
brilliant Stefania Toczyska as Babulenka, are totally convincing.
Barenboim, as suggested above, captures the full measure of
this complex score, and his orchestra and chorus respond with
total commitment. The camera work is excellent and the sound
vivid. This opera, with its utterly thrilling roulette scene
(track 21), which features breathlessly-paced singing and a
vicarious sense of triumph for you the viewer as Alexei keeps
winning, is a rather unique experience in all of opera. Listeners
and watchers of this work may find themselves drawn into its
addictive world of spinning wheels and love triangles, into
a realm where fate and luck are the same thing, into the obsessions
and fears of Prokofiev’s twisted but somehow familiar characters.
This is a major triumph.
Robert Cummings
Alexei – Misha Didyk (tenor); Polina – Kristine Opolais (soprano);
The General – Vladimir Ognovenko (bass); Babulenka (the general’s
aunt and Polina’s grandmother) – Stefania Toczyska (mezzo); Marquis
– Stephan Rügamer (tenor); Blanche – Sylvia De La Muela (mezzo);
Mr. Astley – Viktor Rud (baritone). 
[136:15] 
