Alemania
The Fate of a Nation
Jesse Simon
Khovanshchina is not exactly a rarity: although it was left unfinished at the
time of Mussorgsky’s death, a series of orchestrations and completions – by
Rimsky-Korsakov, by Ravel and Stravinsky, and by Shostakovich – have kept
it alive at the edges of the repertoire. It is nonetheless a work that demands
great singers, a great choir and a director of uncommon vision in order to
thrive; one could easily go through life without witnessing a truly remarkable
staged performance.
The superb new production at the Staatsoper
Unter den Linden not only met the opera’s demands, but surpassed them in nearly
every way, systematically destroying any possible reservations one might have
had about ’s unusual narrative structure or earnestly forceful music.
Directed by and conducted by , this
– performed in the Shostakovich orchestration, with Stravinsky’s final
scene – was both an unconventional tragedy and a true operatic spectacular
with grand choral tableaux, outsized personalities and endlessly stirring
music; and, like all great tragedies, by the end, its overwhelming sense of
hopelessness had become strangely invigorating. If Khovanshchina is
rarely described as a masterpiece, this was the production to make one wonder
why.
The story, based on historical episodes,
concerns a failed uprising (of sorts) in the time of Peter the Great, but unlike
the historical epics that flourished in the West during the mid-nineteenth
century, Mussorgsky refused to frame history in terms of melodrama: if the work
follows the familiar five-act structure of grand opera (complete with ballet),
the absence of huge love duets or surprise paternity reveals is notable. Yet
Mussorgsky’s almost defiantly un-operatic treatment of his material is perhaps the
opera’s greatest strength. Although the story may be initially confusing to
anyone with little knowledge of Russian history, Mussorgsky’s attempts to
concentrate complex political conflicts into operatic form yielded a tragedy of
national proportions.
Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina. Simone Young, conductor. Claus Guth, director. Berlin, Staatsoper Unter den Linden, June 2024. © 2024 by Monika Rittershaus.
The first act of Claus Guth’s staging made
little attempt to alleviate the potential confusion. All of the story’s major
players were introduced in a series of scenes that, for all their pomp and
solemnity, never quite added up to a coherent exposition; nor did the addition
of Peter the Great as a silent figure – something that would have been forbidden
in Mussorgsky’s day – help to clarify the outlines of the conflict. The
assortment of characters and motives on display was further obscured by the
presence of silent figures dressed as modern-day lab assistants who followed
the action from the sidelines, taking notes on computers and occasionally
filming the action on stage (the live video was projected onto the backdrop of
the set). The whole thing, it seemed, was one large, carefully-controlled
behavioural experiment.
In fact the staging never entirely settled
down into anything as straightforward as an historical narrative. Although
there were a handful of moments that flirted with conventional drama – notably
the pursuit of Emma by the young Prince Andrei – the characters who
emerged most vividly came across as distillations of a specific moral and
political ethos; and each, in their own way, seemed motivated by both the love
of their country and a genuine despair at the direction their country was
headed. The meeting of these titanic figures, either in smaller ensemble scenes
or flanked by a chorus of followers, had a cumulative power that transcended
the opera’s intended setting.
Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina. Simone Young, conductor. Claus Guth, director. Berlin, Staatsoper Unter den Linden, June 2024. © 2024 by Monika Rittershaus.
If the multi-directional conflict could not
be reduced to a simple struggle between good and evil, by the end of the third
act one had become fully immersed in the tragedy of a nation unable to escape
its fate. Mr Guth made sure that the opera’s parallels with twentieth century
history did not go unnoticed, but was equally careful not to overstate the
matter: the modern frame of the staging and a few well-chosen back projections
during Shaklovity’s third-act lament were enough to reinforce the notion of
historical continuity. Beneath the complex surface of power struggles, there
emerged a terrifying futility that rendered the characters, their actions and
their beliefs all the more tragic.
If the staging provided the evening with its
cathartic power, the vocal and orchestral performances gave it its sense of
occasion. In Mika , Taras and George the production
boasted three commanding basses, each highly distinctive in tone but all able
to convey the full dramatic force of their respective characters. Mika Kares,
as Ivan Khovansky, possessed the greatest warmth and elegance of phrasing: his
speech to the Streltsy in the first act was radiant with the serenity of a
natural leader, although his dramatic scenes – especially the superb trio with
Dosifey and Golitsin in the second act – were equally compelling. His finest
moment was perhaps the final scene of the third act in which he urged calm and
resignation in the face of imminent danger.
Taras Shtonda, as Dosifey, was arguably the
most consistently impressive. Each of his entrances in the first three acts had
a deus ex machina authority capable of bringing all surrounding action
to a sudden halt. Yet the implacable sternness of his early scenes gave way to
greater lyricism in the second scene of the fourth act, which was infused with
a sense of inevitable fate. As Shaklovity, George Gagnidze had a lighter tone
than Mr Shtonda and a more agitated manner than Mr Kares, but was nonetheless
responsible for the evening’s most moving scene, a heartfelt monologue at the
centre of the third act lamenting the recurring misfortunes and sufferings of a
nation and its people.
Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina. Simone Young, conductor. Claus Guth, director. Berlin, Staatsoper Unter den Linden, June 2024. © 2024 by Monika Rittershaus.
Although the evening was dominated by its
basses, Marina delivered an excellent Marfa, equally at home in the
opera’s secular and spiritual dramas. Her fortune-telling scene in the second
act was almost hypnotic in its concentration, while her confession in the third
act was one of the few moments in which individual emotion was allowed to
eclipse ideological conflict. Among the smaller roles, Stephan , as
Golitsin, conveyed perfectly the sense of a bureaucrat engulfed by forces he
had no hope of controlling; Najmiddin was agreeably neurotic as the
frustrated Prince Andrei; and Evelin captured Emma’s frightened
agitation. The choir, who play such a crucial role in the drama, were on
excellent form throughout the evening, nowhere more so than the immolation
chorus of the old believers that (in Stravinsky’s version) brings the opera to
its haunting conclusion.
The evening’s voices were matched both in
elegance in dramatic scope by the musical direction of Simone Young, whose
unerring sense of pace and attention to textural detail were apparent in every
scene. For much of the evening her tempi remained spacious enough to allow action
and mood to emerge with equal clarity; although no scenes suffered from lack of
momentum, Ms Young’s patience with the score ensured that the opera’s moments
of quiet solemnity were every bit as compelling as its dramatic scenes. Ms Young
also displayed a strong affinity for the breadth and variety of Mussorgsky’s musical
inspirations – from the sudden eruptions of folk rhythms to the near stasis of
liturgical rapture – which were played without trivialisation or overstatement.
Khovanshchina may never become a core part of the western canon: the complexity
of its subject matter and its lack of conventional character drama would seem
to mitigate against widespread popularity. Yet it is a work rich in musical
rewards, and anyone willing to engage with its intricate narrative – or its
fatalistic mood – may also find it strangely moving. It may remain a difficult and
demanding opera, but the new production at the Staatsoper Unter den Linden has
made the strongest possible argument for its undeniable qualities.
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