(Image credit: Maarit Kytöharju)
Opening of Berwaldhallen 2024 Baltic Sea FestivalOn August 24, Esa-Pekka Salonen and Gerard McBurney produced a tasteful contemporary and neo-Wagnerian interpretation of Modest Mussorgsky’s unfinished “national music drama.” “Khovanshchina”, in front of an enthusiastic audience. Ten soloists from all over Europe and three choirs, who received three ovations, successfully brought to the stage one of the most expressive versions of Mussorgsky’s work that I have ever heard. Complete with light and sound effects, an exciting new chapter in opera history was written.
A bit of background history
The opera that embodies the war for the soul of Russia, a war that remains unresolved to this day, a war that has found its way into the affairs of almost every country on earth, Modest Mussorgsky’s first of two unfinished operas is virtually immortal. The title is “Khovanshchina”, the name is a satirical-ironic essentialization of the attempted arrest of the tsarist power by Prince Ivan Andreyevich Khovansky in 1862, called “Moscow Uprising,’ the work became a kind of ‘black horse’ in Russian (opera) history. It was not only unfinished at the time of Mussorgsky’s death on March 28, 1881, but like other unfinished works such as Alexander Borodin’s opera, “Prince Igor” among many others, certain colleagues, in other words Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, set out not only to hijack the work but to completely rework it. Not only did it fail to recapture its original splendour and vision, but it was a failure at its premiere and was soon replaced by a mixture of Stravinsky and Ravel in 1913. This version, commissioned by the Francophile founder of the Ballet Russe, Sergei Diaghilev, proved to be the spark that gave the opera its international reputation and it was performed all over the world.
This second version, of which only Stravinsky’s fifth act finale is still used in performance, served as a second iteration in a continuing attempt to translate Mussorgsky’s vision of the provocative “Russian Question” through the eyes of historical allusion. Many decades later, however, and the Soviet heavyweight and persona non grata Dmitri Shostakovich invented his own version in 1958 on behalf of a Movie from 1959 of the work, and it is this version that is most widely heard around the world. This version, unlike the first and second iterations, borrowed much from Rimsky-Korsakov’s version, but Shostakovich chose to allude musically to the beginning of the opera in a strategic act of narrative construction, thereby suggesting a cyclicality of life itself, the 1958 film, ‘And quietly flows the Don,’ takes an equally cyclical approach to its ending. Interestingly, the film was first shown in Oscar ceremony 1962 in Los Angeles, California, and won several awards. As in the past, the opera once again achieved worldwide fame.
On this basis, on August 24, I witnessed Russia’s extremely dirty laundry being aired. That is, a number of uncomfortable questions were made public, namely: “What does Russia want to be? Who is Russia? What does it mean to be Russian? Why does Russia exist? What does it mean to be Russian? What does it look like to be Russian in the world?” Led by the golden Esa-Pekka Salonenthe Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, three Finnish choirs and ten international soloists gave us in the West the opportunity to see the Russia that lies beyond Putin’s stranglehold. The performance opened the Berwaldhallen’s Baltic Sea Festival and laid a spectacular foundation for a festival where politics, art, culture and history seem to converge, communicate and connect in varying degrees. With a new version of the work, performed by Gerard McBurney which combines the versions of Shostakovich and Stravinsky, supported by the soundscape atmosphere of the sound designer Tuomas NorvioThe evening turned out to be an evening of exceptional dramaturgy. An evening of Wagnerianism, “Gemsamkunstwerk” found its Russian composition, although Russia certainly has its own tradition of creating total works of art.
Phenomenal singing art
There was, without hesitation, not a single moment during the entire performance in which the ten soloists and the choir lacked technical sophistication, creative commitment and dramatic openness. All four tenors – Kuzka (Johan Krogius), the writer (Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke), Vasily Golitsin (Kristofer Lundin) and Andrey Khovansky (Tuomas Katajala), were sensational embodiments, actually a master class of what makes an operatic tenor. Full resonance, full turn, effortless cut, with all the lyrical “pesennost” (i.e. melodicism) one expects when singing Russian repertoire. I find it difficult to praise one tenor without giving as deserved praise to the others as well, for the masterful artistry on display defies description. From Krogius’ incredible ability to command any space through the power of his legato veracity, Ablinger-Sperrhacke’s leggiero skills that beautifully betray his maturity, Lundin’s weightless blossoming in his upper register, and Katajala’s youthful turn whose cut is as sensational as it is strong, I fell into the arms of these four tenors with every legato phrase, every piercing call, and every piercing vibration with every step.
But then baritones and basses came on stage, and another, equally captivating saga began. In these roles sang Ivan Khovansky (Mika Kares), Dosifey (Ain Anger) and Fyodor Shaklovity (Tomi Punkeri), a mixture of intimidation, blushing, attraction and aesthetic delight seemed to radiate at every moment. All three singers showed the audience that evening that bass and baritone need not be artists of the second and third octaves or the lower registers only, but masterfully and skillfully use whatever is available to them, even if only for a short time. From the theatrical bravery of Kares’ clearly robust, unforced and open training, Anger’s melodically focused, layered and dynamically nuanced performance, to Punkeri’s naturally dramatic yet youthfully enriched lyrical beauty, it seems fair to say that opera is in very safe hands. Classical music may be dead, but in such hands there is no need to worry about the future, for with the grandchildren of the likes of Hvorostovsky, Gobbi, Chaliapin, Björling, Caruso and Gigli, opera will live on.
But then the women came on stage, namely Susanna (Olga Heikkilä), Marfa (Nadezhda Karyazina) and Emma (Natalia Tanasii), and engaging with the voices of the tenors and basses meant merging even more readily with the inclinations of Mussorgsky’s feminine expressions. The words betray the evening’s performance by three highly competent seamstresses of an exquisitely opulent musical fabric in which nothing was wasted or taken for granted. Neither a breath, nor a moment of introspective silence, nor a dissipation of dramatic tension and compressed expression of emotional anguish were taken for granted and thrown away, but instead brought to life by the realisation of purpose at every turn. Despite being two smaller roles, Heikkilä and Tanasii each achieved their fair share of artistic beauty with their roles. That being said, it was clear that Heikkilä had a penchant for neo-Caballesque dramatics, clad in a cascading veil tied at the top of her head, taking full advantage of the possibilities of spatial dimensions. Her loud voice was a phenomenal complement to Tanasii’s equally large instrument.
Both Heikkilä and Tanasii deserved much more than they were given, but the evening was truly stolen from them, by Karyazina, over and over again. What else can be said about this Russian mezzo-soprano than that she is the reincarnation, the living heir, of great mezzo-sopranos such as Marguerite Sylva and Éva Gauthier, and even great contrals such as Ewa Podleś and Louise Homer? Lush, velvety, flattering, but equally profound, demanding and highly nuanced, her sonorous dramaturgy and startling presence spoke to the true nature of the operatic “singing actress”. In other words, Karyazina’s performance as Marfa expressed a sincere devotion to art, the opera actress, servant of the muse of art, a neo-Callas in the making. I bow to her consummate skills and uncompromising acumen, her superb interpretive talent, her impressive presence and beauty, and her transcendent portrayal of Mussorgsky’s Martyr.
A foretaste of the future of opera
I can overlook my choice of everyday clothes because the performance was truly sensational. At key moments, the sound world created by Norvio, complete with dimensional rumbles, surround sound, rain, birds and much more, was a reflection of a world of opera that was just beginning. This world of opera needs no stage, just a hall, because the stage becomes the hall and the world, a truly immersive experience where the physical sensation is as much a part of the score as the music, where you are in the score and not just listening to it as an observer. For me, coming from a stage background, it was captivating to experience an opera listening experience for the first time where the sound environment, not necessarily the music, but all of the sound elements, including the music, was one of the most important parts of the performance. Although the Petrinus Fanfare in the fourth act, with all its magnificent drama, was one of the most tangible moments of the evening, one could literally feel Tsar Peter I in the same room as us, it was the moments of silence where nothing could be heard but swinging footsteps, creaking doors, ghostly rain and birdsong that really stole the show for me. Hats off to Norvio for creating an experience that Away ahead of its time, an experience of the true future of opera, in which the opera house may not be the best place for opera. Ironic but true: operas may be better in smaller spaces.
The future of opera may lie in venues like the Berwaldhallen and their sound capabilities, where the audience can be truly engrossed in the world of sound in all its manifestations. With a certain degree of confidence I will say that Norvio, in collaboration with the lighting and the music, has achieved something of utmost importance, not just on this evening, but for opera in general. That is, opera is far more than the creation of a story on stage, but the creation a world through soundas it unfolds, the listener’s body, mind and soul are drawn into a world parallel to our own, but much more allegorical in nature. I congratulate Norvio on his success and hope to see his work again as often as possible at Berwaldhallen and then at the many other suitable venues around the world. Overall, Berwaldhallen has once again provided lovely public art of exceptional quality and rich dimension, bringing together artists of different media to create something of indescribable impact on the human psyche. I can safely say that if opera focuses on world-building rather than isolated performances, great things are to come if this path continues.
