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.

Patricia Racette Storms through Shostakovich's "Lady"

I knew I'd not be able to attend, but wondered why I hadn't heard much on U.S. soil of Patricia Racette's turn as Katerina in Stalin's favorite opera (joking!) Shostakovich's "Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk." All that changed with a simple google search and reviews and photographs were turning up everywhere calling her performance - and the production, overall, a triumph for English National Opera.

Not all of the reviews were raves - but most were - and there were tons . . . the production (and Ms. Racette) garnering the kind of excitement for an operatic event we all too rarely see or hear of here in the States.

"Patricia Racette charts Katerina’s transformation from bored, resentful chattel to emancipated woman with steely control, and unswerving musical authority;"
Andrew Clements - The Guardian

"...Patricia Racette looked remarkably close to Leskov’s original description of his girl from Kursk, small, dark-eyed and with “a high white forehead, and black, almost blue-black hair”. Her performance tended to be understated, and may not match everyone’s idea of Katerina. . . . yet Racette’s voice and presence grew as the horrors of the plot unfolded"
Fiona Maddox - The Guardian

Patricia Racette’s Katerina holds a glittering concentrate of fury in her dark eyes and her finely tempered voice. a central performance of immaculate control and engagement."
Anna Piccard "The Spectator"

"Patricia Racette, singing with sometimes raw intensity, played this repressed Katerina with impressive authority, her very stillness a window on the emotions locked within."
Richard Fairman - The Financial Times

"Patricia Racette makes us believe in her utterly as she veers between the desperation of being downtrodden in a loveless marriage to the triumph of controlling her own destiny back to the twin despairs of imprisonment and sexual betrayal, making Katerina’s extreme actions seem inevitable to us in the audience."
David Karlin - Bachtrack

"American soprano Patricia Racette ... brings authority and intensity to the title role . . . Thanks to Wigglesworth’s empowered conducting, a superb performance from ENO’s orchestra, and Racette’s consistent strength, the opera hits hard."
George Hall - The Stage

"Patricia Racette smoulders as Katerina, and John Daszak brings a fine heroic tenor to the repulsive lover Sergei . . . Mark Wigglesworth . . . brings a detailed and illuminating reading to the score. Not to be missed."
Clare Colvin - Express

"Heady stuff with great musical punch, led by Patricia Racette’s sympathetic and attractively strong Katerina, and the powerfully hedonistic Sergei of John Daszak. Her restrained movements at the start become more fluid and dramatic as she emerges from her cocoon, and his swagger and natural stage presence personify an opportunist who can’t resist her."
Mark Ronand - Theatre Review


Brava, Pat!

Galina Is Katerina: The REAL Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk

I waited 30 years to see this and was not disappointed - only happy to have lived long enough to finally have this opportunity.

First off: Vishnevskaya. For those, like me, who'd only experienced this artist in concert or at the very end of her operatic career, to finally witness her in a complete role as tailor-made for her as this proves to be overwhelming. She opens the film with Katerina's boredom" aria in a voice entirely unrecognizable one that harkens back more to her jazz and nightclub singing roots than the world of opera. It as though she were channeling Billy Holiday while imitating Rosa Ponselle.

Visnhevskaya's face is unbelievable. Forget about expressions changing over the course of a film - her face becomes some great mask which frequently in less than the blink of an eye can transform her from appearing angelic, saintly, demonic, tortured, and instantly go from looking like a teenager to a run down, broken old woman. Likewise, she presents as stunning and beautiful one second and grotesquely haggard the next. To call watching her "fascinating," is an understatement.


Though she insisted she performed her own stunts in the film's tragic and violent ending (which here, are bone chillingly horrifying) they simply HAD to use a stunt double in one scene (though you can't really tell), when Katarina violently kicks out her bedroom window (which IS clearly Vishnevskaya) leaps out about 8 feet - (and almost 3 stories in the air!) dropping to a landing beneath her, then tears down the stairs like a madwoman possessed. I rewound it about 5 times to try and detect where the switch was made . . . but could not.

Mikhail Shapiro's film is gorgeously grotesque. 1966 Soviet cinema wasn't among the technically best the film world had to offer, and yet Shapiro's techniques, seems comprised of equal parts Hitchcockian hyper-realism and the surrealstic spookiness from the earliest days of film like Wiene's "Dr. Caligari." There is a visible pulsating quality in the transfer (in the original, too? I couldn't know) a sort of silent movie "flicker" in the washed out, oddly green/blue hued sepia toned color. Ingeniously, Shapiro sometimes layers image over image, such as the opening scene where we watch Katerina, sitting in a window looking out as the images she describes are projected, like home movies, against the exterior walls of her home. It is a brilliant device that early on pulls us directly into the mind of Katerina and how later, despite her brutal actions, retains our sympathy for her.

With the score so severely cut to fit within the framework of the film, we loose some truly great music, but the film version points up the very limits of ennui and violence of the tale into nearly unbearably vivid relief.

Those unfamiliar with Shostakovich's score - or scared of it - will here get some of the most tuneful and beautiful music from this opera and, as cast here, one practically revels (whenever possible) in its "Fiddler on the Roof" nightmare quality.

For the lovemaking music that begins the second act , Shostakovich draws on the romantic Russian tradition with music of ineffable sweetness, which in this context becomes as jarring and unsettling as everything that comes before or after it.

Unafraid to combine horror and hilarity, Shapiro adds yet another amazing sequence to the film when Katerina, first hears the ghost of her freshly murdered father-in-law. Onstage, this scene usually means Boris belting out his lines in white theatrical "ghost" make-up, etc. In the film, Shapiro preys on Katerina's nightmarish guilt as, truly ghostlike, he bursts through a set of doors, a nearly cartoon-like head 50 times larger than life hovering and singing over Katerina and Sergei's sleeping bodies. I found myself simultaneously laughing and cringing in horror. Yes, I loved it.

The final scenes of that endless march through Siberia is enough to chill one right to the marrow. As a big fan of Vishnevskaya, I've read her account innumerable times, but even that had not prepared me for those final, violent plunges as she takes Sonyetka down with her into that horrible, icy death. Vishnevskaya's Katerina has become absolutely unhinged, ratcheting the horror even even further in an image I won't divulge, but can honestly say one I did not see coming.

I am (for more than obvious reasons) delighted to be alive right now, but also to have lived live long enough to be able to indulge the senses with the visionary work of unknown masters of yore coming to light, like the nearly forgotten Mr. Shapiro.

Anyone on the fence about this one should just climb right over to the other side. This is truly amazing operatic filmmaking . . . vastly unlike anything one is likely to ever have seen before or since.