While Eugene Onegin is Tchaikovsky’s most popular opera, there’s a fair argument that The Queen of Spades
is his best. A gripping drama, it requires performances where you
believe in Herman’s psychological descent as the desire to learn the
secret of the three cards from the old Countess consumes everything,
including his love for Lisa.
The opera has been lucky on disc, dominated in recent decades by
recordings from Valery Gergiev and Seiji Ozawa, both from the early
1990s. They are joined by this resplendent account from Mariss Jansons
and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, recorded in concert. Jansons
has a fine pedigree in Tchaikovsky (his cycle of the symphonies for
Chandos still holds strong) and he paces the opera unerringly well,
building tension superbly. His Bavarians respond with atmospheric
playing, burnished strings and dark woodwind coloration to the fore.
Alexandra Maria Dielitz’s excellent booklet essay explains how the
Mariinsky director tried to persuade Tchaikovsky to set Pushkin’s story
as an opera, ‘a Russian Carmen’. Parallels are drawn in
deciphering fate from cards, but Tchaikovsky also channels Bizet in his
children’s mock-soldier chorus. The Bavarian State Opera children’s choir offer characterful singing, if not as earthily Russian as
Gergiev’s urchins. Jansons keeps the Mozartian pastiche light and
fleet-footed, and even employs a fortepiano for Lisa and Polina’s duet
to give a period feel.
Tatiana Serjan is a vibrant, fearless Lisa, as one might expect from a
soprano who tackles the roles of Abigaille and Lady Macbeth. Hers is a
voice with plenty of ‘blade’ when required, yet she can shade it
beautifully. Her aria by the River Neva, as she awaits her final
confrontation with Herman, is heartfelt. I prefer her to Mirella Freni,
past her best when recording the role for Ozawa, while she matches Maria
Guleghina (Gergiev) for drama. Misha Didyk, a less than convincing
Manrico at La Monnaie (Bel Air, 2/15), surprises with his baritonal
depths here as Herman, as well as a ringing top. There’s vivid
characterisation too, thrilling in his encounters with Serjan’s Lisa,
without the occasional spills of Vladimir Atlantov (Ozawa) or Gegam
Grigorian (Gergiev).
Larissa Diadkova’s Countess happily relies more on secure vocal
technique than scary histrionics and Oksana Volkova is a rich-voiced
Polina. When it comes to the baritones, Jansons can’t quite compete with
Ozawa. Alexey Markov is less refulgent of tone than Dmitri Hvorostovsky
but sings a noble account of ‘Ya vas lyublyu’. Similarly, Alexey
Shishlyaev lacks Sergei Leiferkus’s sardonic bite as Tomsky, but his
narration of the legend of the three cards is effective, despite his
upper notes being pushed.
With an excellent recording – despite applause and some stage noise –
this is a highly recommendable version of Tchaikovsky’s opera which
pulls the listener into the drama. (Gramophone)
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