And the Lady Makes It Complete. Boston’s Magnificent Lady Macbeth Of Mtsensk.

 

Andris Nelsons ambitious Shostakovich Cycle with the Boston Symphony Orchestra reached its climax Thursday night with one of the composer’s earliest major works, an eagerly anticipated Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, which may be considered the crown jewel of the project. The seemingly endless ovation at night’s end was like a collective explosion of joy.  

The fact Shostakovich began composing this masterpiece of mayhem before his 24th birthday – completing it at age 26, is significant. Already behind him were three symphonies, four film scores, a slew of chamber music, orchestral suites, a piano concerto, incidental music for a half dozen plays (including Shakespeare’s Hamlet), and two other operas, leaving no doubt this was one of the most significant, prolific and gifted composers the 20th century would see.  

Lady’s score is as sui generis as it gets, calling for an orchestra of immense size; full strings, winds, alto flute, extra brass – including four tubas (forced into a side aisle owing to limitations of the stage) and an enormous battery of percussion including celeste and a whip. Shostakovich uses them – and the chorus – like an assault on the senses, reaching a fever pitch loudness, creating a cacophony of sensational beautiful noise that is, quite simply, overwhelming. The genius is that, with those same forces, the composer gives us moments of such transparent delicacy, such beauty they cause the heart to ache with their tenderness, their ineffable sadness.  

Driving in from Portland, we arrived early at Symphony Hall and already there was a sense of occasion – a crackle in the air, if you will.  Eventually musicians began entering the stage, warming up, tuning, bits and blurts of the score repeated loudly, softly, filling the house along with increasing conversation as the audience steamed in taking their seats. That buzz. Nothing like it.

Maestro Nelsons, then Christine Opolais – looking all the world more movie star than singer, in a stunning gown of white, entered the stage to hearty applause and then we were on. (For the second half, Opolais appeared in an equally stunning gown, black, that would not have been out of place for Anna Bolena).  The opera begins, with a melancholic aria for Katerina, a childless young woman, trapped in an abusive marriage living on her in-law’s farm. Opolais conveyed this beautifully and one was immediately, as we need to be, in her corner.  Her overall performance was magnificent, even if the voice at times failed to register – or indeed, in large orchestral moments, even be heard. It was not uncommon during these moments to see her mouth wide open – screaming – but little or indeed, no sound at all. Fortunately, such moments are few and even then, the characterization of the bored, unloved beauty Katerina came through with (almost) full force. 

Tenor Brenden Gunnell was terrific as Sergei, the sturdy new laborer who seduces Katerina and sends the story into a tailspin, relishing the bawdiness of the terrific libretto – jointly written by Alexander Preys and Shostakovich himself. The consummation scene – even with the lovers on opposite sides of the podium – was what I’d call sinsational. His feckless betrayal of Katerina on the road to hell, I mean Siberia, came as natural as his declarations of love. (In my fantasies, it is always HE I want to see Katerina throw into the icy waters.)

As father-in-law Boris, Günther Groissböck was, as ever, at the top of his game. His experience in the role going back a few years proved to be the kind of asset one longs for in an opera like this (an opera like this?); still handsome, youthful, but with that rich, venerous sound that crosses over into lechery, he was . . . brilliant. Commanding. Sleazy and needed killing.  The mushroom/murder scene played out showing Shostakovich’s strength combining  humor with horror, and Groissböck and Opolais made a meal out of it. (I couldn’t resist.)

Peter Hoare’s Zinovy also proved to be another bit of excellent casting. The relatively small role is nonetheless the obvious lynchpin. Hoare’s sound carried perfectly while creating a genuine milquetoast character under his oppressive father’s cruel thumb. I almost felt bad for the guy when he met his end. Almost. 

The rest of the enormous cast larger roles and small ones – were all committed to putting their characters across in the strongest fashion, their quick entrances and exits enhancing the frenzy of the tale. Standouts included Alexander Kravets’ Shabby Peasant (Shostakovich’s nod to Boris Godunov), who held the distinction of being the only rumpled, dirty character of the evening, stumbling drunkenly, face contorted perfectly, and nicely exposed gut.  Marvelous really.  

Goran Jurić was excellent as The Priest, repeating the role of his Met debut several years ago. Dmitri Belosselskiy stepped in as the last-minute replacement for Paata Burchuladze’s Old Convict. My disappointment at not hearing the great Georgian basso was instantly relieved to hear the depth of pathos and beautiful sound Belosselskiy brought to the opera’s final scene.

As Anatoli Sivko’s Chief of Police entered for his first scene. His corrupt, exploitive character was immediately on display as Sivko, in tight pants, patent leather shoes, earrings and buttons all sparkling into the house, one could not resist a smile.  The handsome devil had the air of a model, dancer . . . or hustler. His sound – deep and rich projected the sleazy confidence to perfection. Patrick Guetti was imposing in every way as the Sentry, the voice, easily the biggest of the evening, sounded as though he had a microphone built into this larynx. I look forward to hearing much more from all of these.

The real star of the evening is, of course, Shostakovich himself, so, by default, Andris Nelsons who had every detail of the score well in hand.  Dmitri’s sprawling score seemingly covers everything, from folk music, jazz and showtunes to Mahler-esque Ländler-like dances, the chaotically comical Keystone Kop music and the Wozzeck-like Passacaglia, and through it all, the Bostonians made it come alive with vivid clarity and dramatic punch. Equal to that task was the singing of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus who delivered the right mood every time in splendor from the merry toast making of the wedding to the devastating final chorus. 

As the final chord faded, the house burst into an ovation finding most immediately on their feet, roaring as one in a collective explosion of joy. That ovation was one of the longest I can recall anywhere, the cast and conductor returning several times to the deafening applause and cheers. Though diminished, it was steady and loud enough that Günther Groissböck, clearly moved and buoyed by the enthusiasm, led the cast out for one last round of love from the house. 

Seeing mics throughout the house, a mixing board behind the first section of orchestra seats, confirmed hope these performances are being recorded by Deutsche Grammophon for release alongside the rest of the Shostakovich Project. Happy news indeed. 

There is another performance at 7 p.m. tonight being broadcast live on WCRB, and then a performance at Carnegie Hall next Tuesday, the 30th.  It should not be missed.