After multiple false starts, and a wait of 
          three years, Alexander Vedernikov this evening 
          unveiled a reborn Bol’shoi Opera. The premiere 
          was the Bol’shoi’s first staging of Prokofiev’s 
          "Fiery Angel" – stupendous singing, 
          credible realistic acting, gripping ensemble 
          action, eye-popping sets, dazzling lighting 
          – and above all, committed performances from 
          the Bol’shoi Orchestra and Chorus. From standards 
          that would disgrace a provincial Rep, Vedernikov 
          has staged work which is not merely worthy 
          of a national centre of excellence – this 
          is world-calibre work, at long last. 
        Careful musical preparation is evident everywhere. 
          Prokofiev’s kaleidoscopic orchestration is 
          allowed to shine with magnificent playing, 
          and new sense of pace that stretches from 
          beginning to end. At long, long, last, there 
          is an ensemble cast of soloists, partnering 
          and counter-balancing each other – instead 
          of the weary parade of "I have done it 
          this way for 30 years, laddie, and I am not 
          changing now" which has been the Bol’shoi’s 
          wretched hallmark so sadly often.
        Oksana Krovitskaya excels in the title role 
          – lyrical and melodic where needed, confrontational 
          and spasmodic where the character demands 
          it. At last we have characters on the 
          Bol’shoi stage, who evolve and change as a 
          result of the action, and emerge as different 
          people at the end. Valery Alexeev’s credentials 
          were clear as one of the few worthwhile aspects 
          of the recent disastrous Mazeppa. As 
          Ruprecht he reveals an ardent burning lyricism 
          with an effortless upper range – world-class 
          singing indeed. But whereas a normal Bol’shoi 
          cast would then oscillate between the excellent 
          and the execrable, this cast is uniformly 
          spot-on, with no weak links. Vyacheslav Voinarovsky 
          quickly won audience favour as a preening 
          and petulant Mephistopheles, a foil to the 
          powerful and arresting performance of Vadim 
          Lynkovsky as the Inquisitor. Larisa Kostiuk 
          brought both vocal and emotional gravitas 
          to the Mother Superior, and Roman Muravitsky 
          wrestled successfully with the dense orchestral 
          texture accompanying Agrippa’s refusals to 
          aid Ruprecht. Maxim Merkulov made a compelling 
          performance from the entirely mute role of 
          Prince Heinrich. It would be even better to 
          be able to report that this was a Bol’shoi 
          Theatre cast – but most of the main roles 
          were invited performers of other theatres 
          (Alexeev from Mariinsky, Krovitskaya now works 
          entirely in USA, Kostiuk from Helikon etc). 
          However, at least the pressing need to hire 
          able singers who can credibly act their roles 
          has finally been heeded and acted-upon.
        The set is a phenomenal achievement in its 
          own right – designed by Georgy Tsypin, it 
          begins as a decrepit Petersburg courtyard 
          (complete with crummy soviet lift), and ends 
          with collapsing walls, huge folding rooms 
          spilling-out from the upper storeys, and Renata 
          ascending into heaven on the lift, now neon-lit 
          and teetering precariously forwards. Quick-changes 
          are effortless – Agrippa’s alchemical laboratory 
          is especially effective. If this set does 
          not scoop the Awards, there is no justice 
          in heaven. But upon it is the outstanding 
          work of Francesca Zambello, directing the 
          action with a power and conviction that would 
          embarrass many "straight" theatres 
          – the most exciting work to have been seen 
          in the Bol’shoi since her Turandot, in fact. 
        
        
 
        
        No, thank God, this is not the same 
          Tatiana, and it is not the same Bol’shoi. 
          This is the Bol’shoi which Russia deserves 
          and needs – a vibrant, living, ensemble which 
          plays genuine theatre, and not backward-looking 
          "concerts in costumes". Its coming 
          is long overdue, but it is at last here – 
          and let Russia rejoice that finally you can 
          see work on Theatre Square that’s the equal 
          of the finest anywhere in the world. Welcome 
          home - we’ve missed you.
         
        Neil McGowan