Ever Onegin . . . Metropolitan Opera's New Eugene Onegin

I spent the early evening watching the Deborah Warner/Fiona Shaw production of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin filmed at the Metropolitan Opera this past fall.

For the most part I enjoyed the production, though a few things I found unnecessarily challenging, and downright in the way of otherwise excellent story telling. First up was the lack of a bedroom for Tatyana's all night vigil and the opera's most famous scene. Another problem was the duel . . . I know I'm not the only person who found rifles instead of pistols just an overall bad idea.

Other than several other similarly odd choices. the production worked well, and the development of its characters and their dramatic choices/direction from the singers throughout was fascinating and frequently moving. Onegin made clear his desire not to kill his best friend, when Lensky extended his hand before the duel and Onegin grabbed and hugged him, only to be rebuffed and pushed away in order to get on with the business of death. In sinking to the ground and cradling his dead friend in his arms, we immediately sense that Onegin will be forever haunted by this unnecessary, preventable tragedy.

I'm not the greatest fan of Anna Netrebko, but Tatyana turns out to be an ideal role for her vocally and histrionically. She struck several nicely juvenile poses in her first meetings with Onegin. Nebs's Tatyana seemed a tad distant during her Name Day celebration but her development into the Princess Gremin nicely balanced a newfound maturity with a bit of the passionate girl still left in her.

Mariusz Kwiecien offered a terrifically nuanced and theatrically compelling Onegin. If not as plush or warm of voice as Hynninen, Allen, Hvorotsovsky and other great interpreters of Tchaikovsky's ennui-ridden antihero, his was a more complex and frequently more likable Eugene than we frequently get, adding to Tatyana's dilemmas both early on and at the end.

Piotr Beczala's Lensky was a bit too sunny of character making his jealous outrage and violent treatment of Olga in Act 2 seem like that of a man unhinged, a light in which I've never previously considered seeing Lensky in. Nonetheless his singing throughout, and in the duel scene particularly, was exemplary, nuanced, passionate and, ultimately, heartbreaking.

Oksana Volkova, Elena Zaremba, John Graham-Hall and most of all, Larissa Diadkova, sang well, each having invested their characters with the kind of "lived in" naturalness that aids immeasurably to the storytelling.

As Prince Gremin, Alexei Tanovitski produced some of the strangest singing I can recall; a throbbing sound with an oddly coiled vibrato, the tone itself was not entirely unpleasant, but the result was too odd for these ears not to notice.

I'm divided on the final kiss offered by Tatyana to the astonished Onegin before leaving him to crumple to the ground, hopeless, desolate . . . but no longer bored. I very much liked staging this scene outside in a nighttime winter landscape, the falling snow bestowing a chilly beauty to the almost overheated proceedings.

Valery Gergiev had things well in hand in what must have been his umpteenth performance of the Russian potboiler. Never once sounding routine Gergiev pulled out all the stops for those big, glorious Tchaikovskian climaxes which, even though coming through a home sound system, got my blood pumping just the way I always expect them to.

Villazon ain't done yet: Not even close!

Good gravy some people really do enjoy nothing more than jumping to conclusions. Villazon returned to the opera stage a month or so ago singing magnificently two major roles: Lenski and Nemorino . . . and to outstanding reviews, sold out houses and enthusiastic audiences. I've been lucky to hear two of those performances, as well as some of the recent Handel outings which he's currently touring. I heard him as recently as last night and the voice is in fine shape, with a thrilling, pulse-pounding way with difficult florid passagework, his coloratura not always perfectly even, but measured and full of ping and yes, some hypermusical instincts.

He is not singing purely tenor arias, but a number of the most difficult mezzo/castrati arias which find him dipping down into notes more in the bass/baritone range, which he simply does not have. Blessedly, those notes are mostly short - quickly hit, let go and moved away from, but yes, if one is going to do this sort of thing one should also have those notes. Nevertheless, despite this shortcoming what is working are the middle and upper registers and they sound absolutely beautiful. I find it utterly remarkable that anyone would even be stupid enough to think this to be the end of someone's career
when there are plenty of working tenors who would love to have this facility and tone quality.

I simply don't get the twisted logic of the doomsayers who love to express "concern" that he's destroyed himself and believe they know the singer better than he knows himself. Remarkable.

The "Times" article was a hack job, as unrelievedly biased a piece of doomsday journalism, as any ten puff pieces I've read. Paragraph-upon-paragraph piling on as many negative aspersions as possible: the failed "pop star" reality TV show, that "mezzo soprano" pop singer, his resemblance to Mr. Bean, the bushy eyebrows, the crazy hair, the too wide mouth, the more-than-hinted at affair with Netrebko (which I still don't believe) the "Fourth Tenor" nonsense, his weekly psychiatric sessions. Several times, the article
references Hugh Canning's "review" which, like the article itself, spends most of its paragraphs setting up and tearing down its subject before ever critiquing a single note of music.

Canning makes the ridiculous charge that "the concert was clearly rescheduled to cash in" on his recent appearances in the failed (though oddly popular) reality show. Mr. C, seemed not to have noticed (or conveniently forgot) that the London concert was but a single one on the Handel tour with stops in Baden-Baden, Munich, Berlin, Hamburg, Paris, etc. Or perhaps merely by not mentioning the remainder of the tour he is able to make the tenor look greedy and desperate? Ah, yes, THAT's where he's going, as he ends that particular paragraph making the singer sound "broke" as he explains how "Villazon
cancelled many lucrative engagements. As Brecht wrote: 'First comes food, then morals.'" Yes, Rolando has been starving to death and just out to earn some scratch. Right.

He goes on to criticize the manner in which Villazon sings Handel "as if the past 50 years of scholarship and performing practice had never happened, transforming the music of the baroque era’s greatest opera composer into a sort of genteel, polite verismo." This is, of course, his prerogative, but "genteel" and "polite" do not show up in Villazon's Handel singing - it is wild, passionate (and mostly) accurate singing with an almost crazed,
unleashed energy that has most audiences exploding in cheers. Yes, yes, I know, people are idiots and don't know any better. Not in London, nor in Paris, Munich . . .

Of course Canning spends as much time talking about how he "feels" Villazon looks uncomfortable - but I find he's mistaken the tenor's naturally manic, hyper-animated stage manner for "discomfort" when it's simply not the case. No one (I believe) says the same about Ms. Bartoli and her similar frenetic stage energy, but with Villazon it's a different story.

Here's Rolando as Lenski, singing "Kuda, kuda" only a month ago. It took my breath away. If this is the end of a career than "oops, wrong planet" - black is white, up is down and wrong is right. You decide if, along with Mr. Canning, he is nothing more than a cash cow "alongside the Bocellis, Jenkinses and Pottses of this world," and if it's time to for those who "care passionately about opera will shed a few furtive tears over what might have been."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wn_ez9qQywk&feature=related

Like him or not I sense Rolando is on the right track and I, for one, couldn't be happier. Long may he sing!

Salzburg Hit Onegin: More Miss Than Hit

Last year it seemed absolutely everyone at Salzburg was clamoring about director Andrea Breth’s monumental, updated production of “Eugene Onegin” and indeed, it was one of the most reviewed performances I’ve ever read of – I pored over some 30 reviews of the opening night – and nearly each seemed to be outpraising the previous in the heaping on of superlatives. I saw several clips while the show was still running and found what I saw enticing in the extreme. Well, now having watched the entire thing on DVD, twice I’m not as excited. Musically, I find it thrilling and eye opening, but dramatically it runs from red hot - like a fire poker in the eye – to luke warm.

There’s not a thing wrong with strong willed directors wanting to update and take a fresh look at an old classic – I WELCOME it - but when the will of the director blatantly ignores what is happening in the music imposing his or her will OVER what the director intends – then I have a problem. And I had problems here.

As terrific as Anna Samuil is in the Letter Scene, dramatically there was something lacking – something in need of tightening up – not on the heroine’s part, but on the director’s. The decision to not have her in pajamas or a nightgown proved, for me at least, a seemingly inconsequential, but ultimately glaring mistake. Breth has already made us aware this Tatyana is no shrinking violet – is, in fact, a strong willed (and slightly spoiled), young woman. But she’s still a girl and we need SOME vulnerability and there was next to none found here. Despite Samuil’s lovely shaded singing, magnificent lighting (car lights shining through the woods and windows) . . . despite incredible stage machinery rotating the sets showing Tatyana tearing through the house and out into the woods with what can only be described as “love fever,” we do not quite get (or at least I did not get) the sense that her epistle to Mr. O was particularly difficult, much less an all night vigil. Even having her remain in the same jeans for several days didn’t really convey that. There absolutely MUST be the element of the girl’s restlessness, of her insomnia, of night passing into day and it could have been as easily remedied by giving the gal a goddamned nightgown. Having her sit, pensive, noisily pecking away at a typewriter was for me a rather novel idea – just not a particularly good dramatic one. Just me I guess.

Earlier on, in one of the very best, liveliest,and most infectious peasant choruses in all of opera, the Larin servants, farmhands and neighbors perform it motionless as a chorus of automatons arranged properly in concert formation, faces stripped of any emotion as we watch the ghastly attired Madam Larina (her hair in curlers no less) frolicking with a pair of moppets (and nearly showing us her “business” in the process).

Peter Mattei (one of my favorite baritones) makes Onegin entirely unappealing, eliciting almost no sympathy for his plight. Onegin already IS somewhat unappealing, but to burden him now with a jaded, been-there-done-that playboy attitude misses Onegin’s point entirely. To Mattei’s credit he sounds terrific and follows, to the letter, his directress’s whims turning a melancholy, ennui-ridden young man into a mean-spirited, selfish and arrogant prick. Great.

Much was been made about Breth’s total transformation of Madame Larina and it’s true: few characters have morphed so entirely as the Larin girls’ mama. Instead of a kindly, pensive disillusioned, broken-dreamed, still elegant and intelligent woman we’re given a gaudy, shrewish, manipulative, self-obsessed cow. Wonderful.

I also had to scratch my head at the rambunctious, drunk fest that took the place of Tatyana’s name day celebration. Do people really find this that innovative? Does this add anything at all to the drama? I don’t think so.

And speaking of parties and celebrations, I will NOT apologize for finding the current directorial fad of removing the Third Act Polannaise to be a mistake. It is, in fact one of the most yawn-inducing clichés perpetuated upon the world of opera in the last decade. And there have been a lot. (Oddly, Carsen’s re-working of it for the Met, is the only example of where it worked. All others, including this one, fail miserably in my opinion). Breth here makes a little joke: Ha ha! I’m going out on a limb here, but in, say, 20 years or so some hot shot Austrian playwright making his operatic debut in Onegin will DARE to place the women into Empire gowns, the men in tails and fill the stage with gilded mirrors and crystal chandeliers as couples elegantly glide round the stage in sophisticated choreographed formations and the audience drop their jaws thinking “My, God! It’s almost as though this music was MADE for this!”

Sorry to spoil the party that everyone else enjoyed (I guess I’m just a bad guest!) but it felt to me that Breth was trying hard to make Onegin an intense, unsettling, brooding dark opera, a statement on class distinctions and society – as well as on boredom and honor. The problem is Tchaikovsky already did that and what I feel was chiefly achieved here was merely an accentuation of the ugliness of these characters . . . and unattractive costumes.

I was amazed by Martin Zehetgruber's elaborate sets – magnificent in every regard – and I would love to see another stab at this Onegin as despite how I may come off here, I think Breth has some very good ideas: the portrayal of this matriarchal society; the Larina disdain for peasants and workers; Madame Larina’s sheering the men like sheep; the contrast between the “old ways” still being hung to by Filipevna with the new world ideas of Madame L.; the disdain and boredom of the strong-willed Tatyana (having Filipevna die, unnoticed by the girl she did everything for, chilling . . . brilliant); the duel – heartbreaking; the blazing intensity of the final scene – there is plenty of good stuff here, I just found it all didn’t come together for me as for everyone else.

With so much attention lavished on the principal pair of non-lovers, the majority of characters almost fade which is a shame as all of the vocal performances here are outstanding, particularly Joseph Kaiser’s charmingly idealistic and more youthful sounding than usual, Lensky and Ferruccio Furlanetto’s glorious turn as Gremin.

Musically, Daniel Barenboim gives one of the most frenetic, violent readings of this score – make that THE most violent reading of the score anyone has probably ever heard – the tensions at times are almost unbearable. Unfortunately, regardless of what anybody else has written (maybe they were swept away by the passion) it was a sloppy, inelegant reading from the Vienna Philharmonic, with intonation problems, rifts between stage and pit, uneven entrances from the orchestra itself (a lot of this). It is thrilling, in that way surviving a ride on a high speed, broken rollercoaster is thrilling – but I’m pretty sure I’d never want to get on again.

There is clearly an audience for this – and I will try to come back to it, but I can think of a half dozen other “Onegins” on DVD (more if you add pirates) that are ultimately far more satisfying: particularly Graham Vick’s production for Glyndebourne; and Robert Carsen’s minimalist, brilliant production for the Metropolitan Opera.