La bohème, Deutsche Oper, 29 December 2017

Deutsche Oper, Berlin

Image, Bettina Stöß (2015 revival)

 

Rodolfo – Lisparit Avetisyan

Schaunard – Dean Murphy
Marcello – Noel Bouley
Colline – Ievgen Orlov
Benoit – Jörg Schörner
Mimì – Dinara Alieva
Musetta – Alexandra Hutton
Parpignol – Ya-Chung Huang
Alcindoro – Peter Maus
Customs Officer – Sam Roberts-Smith 

Götz Friedrich (director)

Gerlinde Pelkowski (revival director)
Peter Sykora (designs)

Children's Chorus (chorus master: Christian Lindhorst) and Chorus of the Deutsche Oper (chorus master: Thomas Richter), Berlin

Orchestra of the Deutsche Oper, Berlin

Nicholas Carter (conductor)

 

It was with considerable surprise that I found myself making one final visit of 2017 to the Deutsche Oper. On Christmas Eve, a malfunctioning sprinkler system had flooded the stage, leading to the cancellation of that day’s Nutcracker and a number of subsequent performances. Nevertheless, having clearly worked very hard, the company was able to announce that, from 28 December, performances would resume, albeit ‘halbszenisch,’ which seemed to mean in costume, but without full staging (scenery and so on). When Intendant, Dietmar Schwarz came on to the stage before the performance, it was difficult not to wonder ‘what now?’ However, it was with good news: the scenery would be there; the only real problem now lay with lighting, which would have to be provided by different methods (hence my lack of a lighting credit above).

 

In the circumstances – goodness knows what, if anything, happened by way of rehearsal – a detailed review would seem beside the point. What I will say is that, insofar as I could tell, the great Götz Friedrich’s 1988 production, here receiving its 118^th performance, did not seem especially tired. The cast seemed well directed by revival director, Gerlinde Pelkowski; interaction between the characters on stage proved detailed and convincing, within an overall realist framework. One did not expect the experience of Stefan Herheim’s Oslo staging – still the only one I have seen to offer profound, even life-changing insights – nor the bizarre yet inviting sounding lunar antics of Claus Guth recently in Paris. (How keen I am to see that at some stage!) Herheim’s shadow falls over everything I have seen thereafter, in any case; one does not need to have it in front of one, whether on stage or on screen, to experience again what it tells of death and its agonies.

 

A good cast offered plenty of opportunity, well taken, for solo and ensemble excellence. Liparit Avetisyan and Dinara Alieva proved a likeable Rodolfo and Mimì. As so often, the Musetta glittered especially bright: this time courtesy of Alexandra Hutton. Dean Murphy’s Schaunard stood out vocally, far from the easiest of tasks in that role. Choral singing was excellent, no allowances needing to be made for ‘circumstances’. And Nicholas Carter’s conducting of the ever excellent Deutsche Oper Orchestra steered a generally judicious balance between what one might broadly term the score’s Wagnerian and Stravinskian tendencies. Above all, though, and without abdicating one’s critical faculties, this was an evening for gratitude to all concerned. It was also an evening for especial gratitude from me, both to the Deutsche Oper and to Berlin. Sad to say, work compels me now to return to the United (sic) Kingdom. I intend to be back as often as possible, and shall be grateful for the rest of my life to the city that offered me refuge from (some of) the worst of British society and politics. London awaits.

Bolshoi/Sinaisky - Tchaikovsky, 12 May 2011

Cadogan Hall

Eugene Onegin (extracts)
The Nutcracker (extracts)

Dinara Alieva (soprano)
Andrei Grigoriev (baritone)
Bolshoi Symphony Orchestra
Vassily Sinaisky (conductor)


Extracts from both Eugene Onegin and The Nutcracker did not make for the most ultimately satisfying programme. One missed much of what was not there, though by the same token one could treat the concert as something of a calling card. We did, however, hear the Bolshoi Symphony Orchestra, in the music of a composer to whom it could hardly stand closer, on magnificent form, under the baton of a very fine, arguably underrated, conductor, Vassily Sinaisky.

The programme was altered somewhat from that advertised, presumably as a consequence of the replacement of an ailing Alexander Lazarev by Sinaisky. (That, however, still begged a few questions, since the replaced music is certainly in Sinaisky’s repertoire.) It was, perhaps, no great loss to manage without the overture to Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Tsar’s Bride, recently performed in full by the Royal Opera (click here). To have an all-Tchaikovsky programme probably made more sense too, though it sounded a little odd to hear the Introduction to Eugene Onegin by itself, without leading into anything. Nevertheless, it displayed from the very first bar a wonderfully rich, indubitably Russian, string tone, horns and woodwind proving just as impressive. It was full of incipient drama, Sinaisky imparting a flexibility of phrasing that could only really be described as ‘vocal’ in quality. The Letter Scene followed; again, the orchestra was on excellent form indeed: one could almost imagine oneself in the theatre, especially once the harps began to weave their magic. Dinara Alieva made a fine Tatiana, with a properly Russian sound yet so verbally acute that her performance conveyed the words’ meaning, even if one had no Russian to speak of. The denouement was moving, even out of context. Onegin’s aria form the following scene was to be enjoyed more for the orchestral than the vocal contribution; Andrei Grigoriev sounded earnest but too wobbly, and proved dramatically wooden throughout. The Polonaise had an irresistible swagger; it may be unbearably clichéd to say so, but it really did sound as if the orchestra had the music in its blood. There was gorgeous woodwind detail to be heard and cello tone of a depth one rarely hears. What a pity that a good – or rather bad – part of the audience applauded before the music had even finished. Finally came the closing duet between Tatiana and Onegin. Orchestral sadness, somewhere between melancholy and tragedy, set the scene perfectly, followed by real frustration preparing the way for Alieva’s entry. Once again, one marvelled at the flexibility Sinaisky provided, of which his soprano took full advantage. However, the contrast between the two singers was even more glaring than when they had been singing separately. It is also only fair to say that the Letter Scene has the unfortunate consequence of overshadowing subsequent excerpts still more than it has the rest of the opera when heard in full.

The Nutcracker excerpts were somewhat confusing. What we heard was not the advertised Evgeny Mravinsky ‘Suite’, itself a rather odd selection, so it was not always clear precisely what was being heard. There was much to enjoy, however, though the omissions were surprising. Orchestral sound was once again enchanting – as of course it must be in this music, and there was again very much a sense of the theatre, not least in the expectancy engendered by the departure of the guests. At times, a more modernistic sound was also elicited there by Sinaisky with respect to orchestral detail, which put me in mind of Der Rosenkavalier and of course presages ballets such as Petrushka too. One really heard – and almost saw – the Christmas tree grow, and the waltz of the snowflakes had just the right sense of Vienna transposed to Russian soil. Cellos sang with echt-national melancholy, whilst the string sound as a whole was such that one could imagine Mravinsky himself having been pleased. The second-act pas de deux, advertised in the programme, was not part of what we heard, but its Tarantella – not, surprisingly, the Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy – received an energetic, fiery reading as an encore.