DVD Review: Stefan Herheim's Eugene Onegin 2012 De Nederlandse Opera

Opus Arte

Tatyana: Krassimira Stoyanova
Onegin: Bo Skovhus
Lensky Andrej Dunaev
Olga: Elena Maximova
Madame Larina: Olga Savova
Filipyevna: Nina Romanova
Prince Gremin: Mikhail Petrenko

Director: Stefan Herheim
Set designer: Philipp Furhofer

Conductor: Mariss Jansons
Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra
De Nederlandse Opera


This is not an Onegin for those that haven't seen the piece before - it's not impenetrably complex, but a very good knowledge of the "standard" narrative would help hugely in unravelling the games being played here with plot and memory. It opens on a brilliant coup de theatre - a "split screen" introducing the the dual worlds that are being depicted in this production - the Russian oligarchy of today, and a sentimentalised kitsch vision of peasant Russia. It's not totally clear why Tatyana remembers her youth as occurring so long before it actually did though; perhaps Herheim is suggesting that Russians sentimentalise their own history and youths? Olga is a vision of naive peasantry, youth and happiness - a reminder to Tatyana of what she has left behind as we see Tatyana amongst her high society guests. Olga's aria becomes accusatory, or at least some sort of expression in Tatyana's guilt.

The letter scene is presented as the fulfilment of Tatyana's wish (Onegin is present, at least in her mind), and simultaneously, Onegin writing his letter with the same message to her as he does later in Act III in the conventional narrative. (Though of course we don't normally get to see it on stage, reference is made to his letter in the final scene, and Onegin gets the same letter writing music when he realises he's in love with Tatyana). We already know this second letter writing event happens, so I'm not sure how much of an insight this is beyond the initial surprise of the new staging. For newcomers it'll be totally baffling and inexplicable. It's tempting to have Tatyana address the actual Onegin onstage because the letter is doing this, but for me, the sense of the unknown is what makes this scene so moving and tense - we know she is fantasising - do we need to see the fulfilment of this fantasy onstage? Still, it's much more subtly and discreetly handled than the comparable version in Kasper Holten's dramatically null ROH staging, the first of many parallels between the two productions (not all of which I've mentioned here). I also didn't quite get what was added  in the following scene by having Onegin address his rejection to a double of Tatyana- yes we get to see the older Tatyana reliving the scene, but by this stage the theme is so clear, that it's weird to just get the same thing again, especially when the double Tatyana (a dancer) is so bad at acting.

Herheim sees the whole piece as being about the loss of ideals - most obviously Tatyana and Lensky's loss of the ideal of innocent romantic love - and mirrors this in the staging with the loss of the big ideals that Russia has suffered during the 20th century. At the end of the Larina ballroom scene Lensky seems to embrace Tatyana's little red book - replacing his naive poetic Romanticism with Communism, and he goes on to direct some troops to exact his revenge on the crowd. But soon the star of Communism is seen in flames and then smashed on the floor during the duel - the communist ideal being replaced with Onegin's playboy Capitalism and the rich Russian oligarchs of his world. It's interesting that Herheim makes these parallels, but what is it actually adding dramatically here? Again after the initial surprise has faded and we've worked out Herheim's code, I can't help feeling that this is a little jejune. Perhaps I'm missing a subtlety.

The Larina ballroom scene is somewhat clumsily staged and the revolving room feels artificial almost the whole time. Maybe it was different in the theatre but the feeling of larger and smaller spaces that the set design is meant to enable doesn't really come across - the pure aesthetics of the "stage picture" are probably the weakest aspect in almost all of Herheim's productions. In the intro to Act III we get a view of 20th century Russian cliches as seen by western Europe (which gets a round of applause from the audience!). Gremin reappears at the end of the final duet (again just as in Holten's production) as does the rest of high society at Gremin's instigation, who witness Onegin's failure, shame and impotence.



Krassimira Stoyanova, in her role début, gives a radiant account of Tatyana, with committed acting that serves the staging very well. She has a little trouble convincing physically as the young Tatyana, but this production plays so much with time frames that this isn't a huge obstacle. She has a rich chest register, warm middle and lovely top, and sings with expressive nuance and technical expertise. It's a very beautiful timbre and sounds great up close on the mics, but the top is very covered which certainly doesn't sound as good in the theatre and was one of my main reservations about her in live performance earlier this year that I saw in the Holten ROH production. Still, a remarkable debut.

Bo Skovhus is a classic barihunk; possibly only Hvorostovsky is better looking of the major international baritones. He often moves awkwardly on stage, hunched and stumbling, which works reasonably well in this production with its characterisation of Onegin as constantly being on the back foot. Vocally he is entirely adequate, but he is not a first choice with all the excellent Onegins currently performing. Skovhus has a passing resemblance to Herheim himself looks wise, but weirdly so does tenor Andrej Dunaev, to an even greater degree. Again he's more than acceptable in the role, but the timbre is not the most beautiful and one might wish for a little more nuance from a character who is meant to be a poet. The rest of the cast are all more than acceptable.

Mariss Jansons gives a slightly weird account of the score, extremely lush and beautifully played by the Concertgebouw Orchestra, but somehow too polished and smooth to sound truly Russian. Where's the raw Slavic soul? A nebulous and intangible criticism perhaps and few will complain when the playing is of such high quality.

The first ten minutes of this production had me thinking that this might be one of the best DVDs on the market, but overall, though very enjoyable, I'm not sure that the interventions add enough to our understanding of the piece for this to escape being an egoistic project - too often I felt this was merely "Herheim's Onegin". That is the production made me think of Herheim rather than the opera, and for me for Regie theatre to be successful, it has to reveal the piece to us anew and bring us closer to the work and its meaning, rather than being a canvas on which the director is allowed to exercise his fantasy, however well intentioned. There's a creeping way in which this is every bit as camp and "fabulous" as any Franco Zeffirelli extravaganza. Others will disagree, and your mileage may vary; it's certainly worth a watch.

Kasper Holten's new Eugene Onegin at the Royal Opera House

04/02/13

This month operatically inclined eyes in London are focussed on this production of Eugene Onegin, Kasper Holten's first with the company since joining, the clearest indication so far about what the future may hold for the Royal Opera House over the next decade or so - not only will he direct a lot of the major productions, but he will select directors too, so a lot rides on his tastes. I don't think anyone would be so crass as to say that this opera production will provide definitive answers, but interest is nevertheless very high.

Almost immediately we realise that this is Regie theatre, albeit of a mild kind - costumes and sets look largely "period" where "period" means "generically 19th century". The curtain opens onto silence, the mature Tatyana rushing into an empty room, searching for a letter. When she reads it, the music starts - the music is her memories flooding back to her. Onegin enters and we later learn that this prelude occurs in Gremin's palace between Scenes 6 and 7 (i.e. after Onegin has shown up again and sent his letter to Tatyana and before the final confrontation) - the opera then is all the flash backs of these two characters.

Throughout the production, Holten changes how these memories are presented - sometimes it is simply the characters singing their lines with essentially naturalistic acting, sometimes there is a (silent, younger) double also on stage who does the actions as the mature singer merely watches them presumably in a state of recall, sometimes it becomes even more unnaturalistic, and the younger double dances, illustrating the words of the singer, and sometimes the younger and older Tatyana actually interact. It all feels basically logically cogent in that it is never confusing, but I think the brain finds it hard to adjust to different modes of naturalism/unnaturalism in the same play without becoming slightly emotionally disengaged.

The result is interesting rather than moving. It took me a while to work out why. What all this intervention does, well meaning and sensitively done though it is, is that it changes the very finely tuned emotional arcs and tensions of the original story - all this dreaming and meta story telling changes the dynamics of every scene and it becomes hard to actually engage with the characters in a direct way. So for instance, Tatyana sings her letter scene looking at her silent younger self, observing and narrating what she must have been feeling at every moment. So it stops being a searingly intimate moment of personal revelation and an agonising leap of faith, and becomes instead a narrated recollection of a doomed moment of youthful folly. More damagingly, in the passionate climax, the singer Tatyana fantasizes about Onegin accepting her entreaty, and we see her dancer double wrapping herself round the double Onegin - logically we know that this is not really happening, but emotionally what registers is a collapse of the sexual tension as it is consummated in front of us. This is what I mean by changing the emotional arcs - the story loses its drive when these tensions are subverted in front of our eyes, and the result is a lack of emotional investment and then a loss of interest. This is just one example of this occurring in this production, but the same thing happens again and again. As another example, Lensky sings his aria whilst the older Onegin observes and then reaches out and hugs him as an act of wish fulfilment. Although this does nicely suggest the subtle homoerotic elements of the text, it also presents us with the negation of the emotional line that propels this scene forwards - the audience is at this stage always desperate for their reconciliation and this is what creates the tension and pathos of the scene. If we are given this visually, even if intellectually we understand that it is not happening "in real life" in the play, emotionally there is a collapse of tension because our wish is fulfilled.

It's well know that this is one of Holten's favourite operas, but in making these audience member wishes come true on stage, it negates the power of the drama. This is the crux of the production's problems I think.

In Holten's picture, Onegin's main characteristic is that he's young. Gone is the haughtiness and repression of traditional stagings, replaced instead by upturned collars, constant embarrassed faces* and hands in pockets. I'm not sure it worked. Yes he's a young character, but is that his most important or interesting feature? Is it the most expressive one? Is it enough for this complex character to only be that? Is it the best choice for this singer's talents, at this point in his career? It's not altogether obvious why Tatyana falls for him either, other than that when she dreams to the peasant songs in Scene I, she LITERALLY dreams of Onegin himself (it's acted out above the chorus, as a dream within a dream) so that later when she says, "it's him!", she means it literally.

Everyone is colour coded - Onegin wears a shabby blue velvet jacket, Lensky wears a greyish blue suit, Olga a mint green dress. Tatyana wears red (for passion), but it seems a bit incongruent that a shy introvert would choose to dress so boldly - yes it's a metaphor, but surely congruent characterisation has to come before symbolism! In the later two scenes in Gremin's palace she wears an icy white gown, but her petticoats which peek through remain red to suggest the passionate heart still beating beneath cooler, more mature exterior.

Despite my complaints about the effect of the directorial choices, mostly the direction is very detailed and it seems that Holten has thought about it all with great care. But there are clumsy moments. When Onegin and Lensky enter Olga and Lensky hold hands and have a little intimate moment. Twenty seconds later Onegin asks without irony which one Tatyana is. Often characters will walk offstage only to come on again immediately. The peasants stroll into the house unbidden whenever they have a song to sing. The set remains largely the same throughout, with projections layered on top that vary the atmosphere, but it feels rigid and unyielding in crowd scenes. One large scale directional decision is to split the action not into the traditional three acts, but into two parts instead: Scenes 1-4 (100 minutes) and Scenes 5-7 (50 minutes). It feels very long, and Tchaikovsky's music is dramatically constructed on too intimate a scale to support these massive durations.

One directorial choice that did ring true was Holten's decision to make Olga a much darker character than the one that is usually presented. Here she is not that interested in Lensky - their beautiful duet, traditionally the only unbridled happy emotion in the piece, was here reinterpreted as a one sided infatuation - when Olga sings "promised to each other since birth", it's clear that she feels trapped and unhappy. A painful and cruel bit of staging this, that really shocked and hit home. She is also very interested in and excited by Onegin, and so Lensky's complaints don't seem like the oversensitive insecurity that it is usually interpreted as. Lensky is a much less overwrought character as a result - less Werther, more Masetto.

Another shocker - after Gremin's paean to Tatyana's goodness, (and surprising knowledge of and anger at Onegin's transgressions) he bursts in to witness the final scene, and it's far from clear what the outcome will be for Tatyana, who collapses with her books as Onegin wanders listlessly away. Bleak and far from expected. But still not moving!

Musically I thought things mirrored the staging - everything is very competently thought out and considered, but the results are far from passionate. The two are obviously not unlinked as singers have to be inspired by the staging, but there's a reserve in everyone's performance that bespeaks a lack of spiritual engagement. Robin Ticciati's conducting is an intimate and sensitive affair, but feels a bit careful and a little too tentative to support the longer line of the harmony. He also doesn't linger or indulge himself, and while this brings a freshness, it also rushes over some of the scores most touching moments, and I yearned for a bit more romance and schmerz.

As Tatyana, Krassimira Stoyanova has all the notes and is a very good technician. The top is rather covered, but is accurate, and her pleasingly dark low notes are the result of some serious engagement of her chest register, not at all common in lyric sopranos. Being Bulgarian, she speaks perfect Russian and inflects the text nicely, but the voice doesn't have that last degree of specialness that would make this a truly memorable performance. Her acting is good, and she manages to convince as the young Tatyana.

Simon Keenlyside is also very good vocally, and of course technically he's a master, though he also seems somehow not in his element - I didn't feel that he was that engaged with his character, and it showed not just in the physical acting, but also in his vocal acting, which was rather unspecific and bland: not usually words you can apply to Keenlyside.

Elena Maximova's very dark voiced Olga will split opinion I think - the chest tones are formidable, but the sound is not for me very attractive overall. Pavol Breslik sings Lensky with excellent technique, but there's no excitement in the voice, partly because the top is too covered and the sound rather small. Kathleen Wilkinson's Filipyevna and Diana Montague's Larina are both acceptably sung and unremarkably acted. Everyone else falls into the same category (though I did like Jihoon Kim's rich voiced Zaretsky). In both the final dress and this the first night, the chorus frequently fell out of time with the orchestra, and generally seem a bit uncomfortable - it could be the language or it could be Ticciati's fast speeds.

On the one hand I want to say that it's not that bad, and is a coherent, thoughtful piece of Regie that is well sung and played. But on the other hand, surely an Onegin that doesn't move needs to be classified as a disaster, and we need to expect more of voices than mere accuracy. Some will no doubt find much to admire here, and it is thought provoking, but for me the concept, while clever, negates the emotion of the piece and without that, it ends up being a rather uninvolving night at the theatre.



*a friend humorously (and accurately) compared him to Tim from The Office.