On Tuesday evening, I went to the Met Opera to hear Valery Gergiev conduct the new production of a double bill featuring two rarely performed works, Iolanta and Bluebeard's Castle. This was my second attempt. I had originally been scheduled to attend the season premiere at the end of January, but the Met canceled that performance in anticipation of a blizzard that never materialized. It's highly unusual for the company to cancel due to inclement weather, but there was no alternative on that occasion as public transportation was shut down and cars ordered off the roads.
What was most intriguing to me in this presentation was that while both operas on the program are derived from fairy tales the two are vastly different in character. While Iolanta is obviously a nineteenth century romantic piece that never aspires to be more than simple entertainment, much in the same manner as the composer's Nutcracker ballet with which it shared the bill at its premiere, Bluebeard's Castle is a dark haunting piece that fearlessly explores the workings of a twisted mind.
The program opened with Iolanta starring Anna Netrebko in the title role. This was the second opportunity I'd had in as many days to hear the famous Russian soprano. She had appeared at the Met Orchestra concert at Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon after mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča had fallen ill and been forced to withdraw. Netrebko definitely appeared much more at home at the Met performing Tchaikovsky's music than she had at Carnegie Hall singing works by Dvořák and Strauss. Gergiev too appeared at ease, as well he should. Though he has sometimes encountered problems in other areas of the repertoire, he is without peer when it comes to interpreting his own country's music. I was extremely impressed last season when he conducted the same composer's Eugene Onegin, another production in which he was paired with Nebretko who on that occasion sang the role of Tatiana.
Iolanta was Tchaikovsky's last opera; he died less than a year after its 1892 premiere in St. Petersburg. Unfortunately, it was not one of his greatest works. For that matter, the composer never had a great deal of luck with opera. Although he composed eleven, only two - Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades - have found a permanent place in the repertory. The others are rarely performed outside Russia. Iolanta's libretto, based on a Danish play by Henrik Hertz, was written by Tchaikovsky's brother Modest and followed the standard formula of a knight who happens upon a sleeping princess and immediately falls in love in love with her. The princess is blind, but love conquers all and her sight is miraculously restored at the opera's end. There is no originality in any of this, of course, and that's the problem. The opera never rises above the level of its source material and is totally lacking in drama and passion. There is some pleasant music and a few great songs but nothing that makes for a memorable experience.
After intermission, Gergiev again took the podium to conduct Bluebeard's Castle. This was really the work I had been most interested in hearing. In contrast to the Tchaikovsky, it is a thoroughly modern piece whose intensity owes as much to the psychological depth of its libretto as it does to Bartók's fascinating score. The Prologue makes this clear when it asks: "Where is the stage: outside or within, Ladies and Gentlemen?" As Judith moves from one locked room to the next, the listener understands her horror as she penetrates ever deeper into Bluebeard's subconscious and forces him to reveal to her his innermost secrets. The use of only two characters heightens the drama and at times creates an almost unbearable sensation of claustrophobia. The audience begins to feel that they too are confined with a protagonist who may very well be a sadistic madman. Even if the sinister overtones of sex and violence are never made explicit - the work was, after all, written in 1912 - they still lurk in the shadows and contribute to Judith's growing trepidation. All the while, Bartók's music enhances the atmosphere of gloom and foreboding. This is particularly apparent in the use of the minor second whenever there is any mention of blood.
The libretto, based on the fairy tale by Charles Perrault, was written by Béla Balázs, a friend of both Bartók and Kodály. Significantly, Balázs based the verses in his libretto on Hungarian folk ballads, a form already of deep interest to Bartók from his ethnological research, and this is no doubt one reason the composer was attracted to the project in the first place. To the Met's credit, the original Hungarian lyrics were retained in this production as was the spoken prologue.
Though Gergiev's is not the first name that comes to mind when thinking of Hungarian music, he does have considerable experience with this work and has previously recorded it with the London Symphony Orchestra. Here he did a wonderful job in bringing out the full genius of Bartók's score. Nadja Michael sang the role of Judith and Mikhail Petrenko that of Bluebeard. The two interacted extremely well together and were excellent in capturing the spirit of the complex characters they portrayed.
Both operas were directed by Mariusz Trelinski. According to the Program Notes, he was inspired by classic noir films of the 1940's, but certainly none that I've ever seen. The production of Iolanta was acceptable if uninspired, but that of Bluebeard's Castle was an entirely different matter. I thought it self indulgent to the point that it distracted attention from the opera itself. The sets seemed to have been inspired by the artwork of H.R. Giger and had nothing whatsoever to do with either Bartók or his music.
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