Affair of State
Modest Musorgsky/ Dmitri Shostakovich: The Khovansky Affair, Welsh National Opera, Milton Keynes Theatre, 31 March 2007.
I make no apology for adhering to the convention of titling opera productions in the language in which they are to be sung, in spite of the precedent of that most anglophone of companies, English National Opera, in referring to Musorgsky’s last, uncompleted opera as Khovanshchina, in its acclaimed 2003 production. One would not expect to see an English version of The Queen of Spades advertised as Pikovaya Dama. Nor do I apologize for giving prominence to the name of Shostakovich for his orchestration of the work, which was so crucial to the impact of the opera in WNO’s new production seen at Milton Keynes on 31 March. The unfamiliar spelling of the composer’s name is that of the programme and of Grove.
I was seeing the opera for the first time and with innocent ear and I record my first impression of it as a sprawling masterpiece but a flawed masterpiece, as I analyse below. Described by the composer as ‘A National Music Drama’, the ‘plot’, such as it is, deals ostensibly with events in the power struggles leading to the beginning of Peter the Great’s road to power, though through convention, neither he nor the regent Sofia appear in person. However, the non-Russian spectator has the impression of eavesdropping on resonances with the Russian soul from all periods of history up to and including the present. It is probably this which gives rise to the unexpected impact of the drama on all audiences and leads some Russians to regard it as one of their greatest operas. Left incomplete and unorchestrated when the composer drank himself to death in 1881, it made sufficient impression to inspire Rimsky-Korsakov, Ravel and Stravinsky (whose version was used here in the final scene) and then Shostakovitch each in turn to devote effort to completing the score.
As an opera, Khovanschchina lacks a clear story line. Rather, it consists of a series of confrontations between various political and religious groups and between a set of unlikeable individuals who, on the whole, fail to gain our sympathy (in complete contrast to Mazepa, for instance – OM No. 257). But this format does give scope for some marvellous set-piece dramatic music. On this occasion it received a terrific sustained performance from orchestra, chorus and soloists, maintaining the excitement from beginning to end. Prime credit for this must go to the conductor Lothar Koenigs for his interpretation of Shostakovich’s score, notably the positioning and sound of the brass. Reading that this orchestration was intended for a film score, reminded one of similarities to Sergei Eisenstein’s two great cinematic epics, Ivan the Terrible and Alexander Nevsky (with music by Prokoviev) which both have similar historical generality.
The opera was sung in English without surtitles, which was the worst of all worlds. It should have been sung in Russian, even bad Russian, to provide that particular Russian intonation, especially of the male voices. As far as conveying information was concerned, it could have been any language, except when, rather ludicrously, a few lines of clear English shone through. Within this limitation the singing was good. Outstanding was Julian Close, as Dosifei, who leads the Old Believers to self-immolation at the end of the opera. His bass voice had a true Russian timbre; ironically his English was the clearest. Also remarkable at times was the tenor of Tom Randle as Andrei, the younger Khovansky. Rosalind Plowright gave a convincing portrayal of the sooth-saying gypsy-with-a-past, Marfa, with thrilling notes in her lower registers, if less persuasive higher up. It is a long time since the WNO chorus has faced a challenge worthy of their abilities. They were in magnificent form, showing an affinity for Russian music (if not the panache of movement) apparent in the series of productions that had been projected when WNO had anticipated having a Russian music director.
Much credit goes to the direction of David Pountney who is back in form after the aberration of his version of Der fliegende Holländer of 2006 (OM No. 249). The elaborate set design by Johan Engels, timeless, yet with a hint of Soviet architecture, forms an appropriate background for the complex yet unobtrusive handling of soloists and chorus, the factions distinguished by colour-coded costumes – a tour de force of stage management with great attention to detail and to timing. The only piece of directorial self-indulgence this time is setting the assassination of Ivan Khovansky (Robert Hayward) as a Marat-like bath scene following his entertainment in a drug-induced state by a naked Persian slave, seductively danced by Beate Vollack. (Beate Vollack has previously been seen in Pountney’s production of Kurt Weill’s Seven Deadly Sins for Opera North in 2004; on that occasion she was only semi-naked.) This, the climax of the opera, is followed by two powerful final scenes showing off the chorus – one the reprieve of Khovansky’s private army, the other the mass suicide of the Old Believers.
Having composed this review, I find no reason to modify my immediate reaction: this is a flawed masterpiece given an almost flawless performance. The one mistake was to choose to sing it in English.
April 2007
Modest Musorgsky/ Dmitri Shostakovich: The Khovansky Affair, Welsh National Opera, Milton Keynes Theatre, 31 March 2007.
I make no apology for adhering to the convention of titling opera productions in the language in which they are to be sung, in spite of the precedent of that most anglophone of companies, English National Opera, in referring to Musorgsky’s last, uncompleted opera as Khovanshchina, in its acclaimed 2003 production. One would not expect to see an English version of The Queen of Spades advertised as Pikovaya Dama. Nor do I apologize for giving prominence to the name of Shostakovich for his orchestration of the work, which was so crucial to the impact of the opera in WNO’s new production seen at Milton Keynes on 31 March. The unfamiliar spelling of the composer’s name is that of the programme and of Grove.
I was seeing the opera for the first time and with innocent ear and I record my first impression of it as a sprawling masterpiece but a flawed masterpiece, as I analyse below. Described by the composer as ‘A National Music Drama’, the ‘plot’, such as it is, deals ostensibly with events in the power struggles leading to the beginning of Peter the Great’s road to power, though through convention, neither he nor the regent Sofia appear in person. However, the non-Russian spectator has the impression of eavesdropping on resonances with the Russian soul from all periods of history up to and including the present. It is probably this which gives rise to the unexpected impact of the drama on all audiences and leads some Russians to regard it as one of their greatest operas. Left incomplete and unorchestrated when the composer drank himself to death in 1881, it made sufficient impression to inspire Rimsky-Korsakov, Ravel and Stravinsky (whose version was used here in the final scene) and then Shostakovitch each in turn to devote effort to completing the score.
As an opera, Khovanschchina lacks a clear story line. Rather, it consists of a series of confrontations between various political and religious groups and between a set of unlikeable individuals who, on the whole, fail to gain our sympathy (in complete contrast to Mazepa, for instance – OM No. 257). But this format does give scope for some marvellous set-piece dramatic music. On this occasion it received a terrific sustained performance from orchestra, chorus and soloists, maintaining the excitement from beginning to end. Prime credit for this must go to the conductor Lothar Koenigs for his interpretation of Shostakovich’s score, notably the positioning and sound of the brass. Reading that this orchestration was intended for a film score, reminded one of similarities to Sergei Eisenstein’s two great cinematic epics, Ivan the Terrible and Alexander Nevsky (with music by Prokoviev) which both have similar historical generality.
The opera was sung in English without surtitles, which was the worst of all worlds. It should have been sung in Russian, even bad Russian, to provide that particular Russian intonation, especially of the male voices. As far as conveying information was concerned, it could have been any language, except when, rather ludicrously, a few lines of clear English shone through. Within this limitation the singing was good. Outstanding was Julian Close, as Dosifei, who leads the Old Believers to self-immolation at the end of the opera. His bass voice had a true Russian timbre; ironically his English was the clearest. Also remarkable at times was the tenor of Tom Randle as Andrei, the younger Khovansky. Rosalind Plowright gave a convincing portrayal of the sooth-saying gypsy-with-a-past, Marfa, with thrilling notes in her lower registers, if less persuasive higher up. It is a long time since the WNO chorus has faced a challenge worthy of their abilities. They were in magnificent form, showing an affinity for Russian music (if not the panache of movement) apparent in the series of productions that had been projected when WNO had anticipated having a Russian music director.
Much credit goes to the direction of David Pountney who is back in form after the aberration of his version of Der fliegende Holländer of 2006 (OM No. 249). The elaborate set design by Johan Engels, timeless, yet with a hint of Soviet architecture, forms an appropriate background for the complex yet unobtrusive handling of soloists and chorus, the factions distinguished by colour-coded costumes – a tour de force of stage management with great attention to detail and to timing. The only piece of directorial self-indulgence this time is setting the assassination of Ivan Khovansky (Robert Hayward) as a Marat-like bath scene following his entertainment in a drug-induced state by a naked Persian slave, seductively danced by Beate Vollack. (Beate Vollack has previously been seen in Pountney’s production of Kurt Weill’s Seven Deadly Sins for Opera North in 2004; on that occasion she was only semi-naked.) This, the climax of the opera, is followed by two powerful final scenes showing off the chorus – one the reprieve of Khovansky’s private army, the other the mass suicide of the Old Believers.
Having composed this review, I find no reason to modify my immediate reaction: this is a flawed masterpiece given an almost flawless performance. The one mistake was to choose to sing it in English.
April 2007