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8.110216-17 - TCHAIKOVSKY: Eugene Onegin (Bolshoi Opera)
Pyotr Ilyich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893)
Cultural resonances are strange phenomena. To Russian audiences, Pyotr Tchaikovskys great opera Eugene Onegin must be redolent of all those nineteenth-century Russian novels and plays replete with country estates, marriageable girls and bored young men of good family. For any Russian, there must be the added tension of knowing that the storys originator Pushkin met the same fate as the poet Lensky, being killed in a duel. For English-speaking audiences, on the other hand, the tale cannot escape being refracted through the equally ironic and satirical but irresistibly comic vision of Jane Austen, with Tatiana, Olga, Onegin and Lensky as tragic counterparts to Elizabeth, Jane, Darcy and Bingley. Which just goes to show what a universal work of art Pushkins verse novel is and opera lovers are urged to read it.
As for the musical treatment, subject and composer were here perfectly matched; and Tchaikovsky prepared his own libretto, with a little help from his friend Konstantin Shilovsky. The work was composed in less than a year. Although Tchaikovsky was a little taken aback when the singer Elizaveta Lavrovskaya suggested the subject to him in May 1877, his innate feeling for the stage and his lyrical impulses were in tune with Pushkins bitter-sweet story from the start; and he managed to write a number opera with plenty of telling moments for individual singers, while, like Verdi in La Traviata, creating an almost symphonic framework for the action. Another parallel with La Traviata is that Eugene Onegin is really a chamber opera, set on a large stage only for the sake of the party scenes, which provide ironic backdrops for climactic moments. This being Tchaikovsky, the spirit of the dance is never far away; but there are also authentic folk elements in the country scenes to offset the sophistication of the town scenes. The orchestra has much to do, both supporting and commenting on the stage action, and the writing for woodwind and solo horn shows all Tchaikovskys mastery.
Little wonder, then, that for more than a century Eugene Onegin has been the most popular Russian opera. Tchaikovsky himself saw his assembly of lyrical scenes as an ensemble piece. He made a point of entrusting the première on 29th March 1879 to the students of Moscow Conservatory, but like all great music it needs the attention of the best professionals. Despite its reliance on soloists with big reputations and voices to match, the Bolshoi Opera in Moscow has always been the ensemble company par excellence. Admittedly its first staging of Eugene Onegin in 1881 was not the success everyone had hoped for not until the opera was mounted by the Imperial Opera of
St Petersburg in 1884 did it break through to popularity and subsequent Bolshoi productions have tended to be passed down from revival to revival as if graven on stone. Even so, the work has constantly been refreshed by new generations of singers. Eugene Onegin has been given more Bolshoi recordings than any other work, with a relatively small number of singers involved, as certain soloists have recorded their rôles twice (some of them three times, if you include film soundtracks). The present recording is of immense historical interest, as it is almost the earliest. In the 1930s the Bolshoi was particularly rich in lyric tenors, with Ivan Jadan, Sergei Lemeshev and Ivan Kozlovsky on the roster. Jadan defected during World War II, ending up in America; but for several decades Lemeshev and Kozlovsky divided Russian audiences into camps of devotees, just as Smirnov and Sobinov had done earlier in the century. To Lemeshev and the soprano Glafira Zhukovskaya went the honour of taking part in the first recording of Eugene Onegin, in 1936, but Kozlovsky followed suit the next year with Elena Kruglikova singing Tatiana. The title rôle was taken by Panteleimon Nortsov on both occasions. The 1937 recording is credited to the conductor Alexander Melik-Pashaev but in fact eight of the forty sides were directed by that great all-rounder Alexander Orlov (although not a Bolshoi conductor, he was rewarded in 1948, just before his death, with the next complete Eugene Onegin recording, in which Kozlovsky and Kruglikova repeated their rôles). The two conductors keep Tchaikovskys music light and airy, without the occasional over-excitement shown by Vassili Nebolsin in the earlier recording, or the ponderousness of Mstislav Rostropovichs much later effort.
Alexander Melik-Pashaev (1905-64) was born in what is now Tbilisi and studied at the conservatories there and in Leningrad. He began his career as a pianist in 1921 and the following year joined the opera house in Tbilisi as a repetiteur. Having studied conducting in Leningrad with Alexander Gauk, he made his Bolshoi début in 1931 with Aida and from then on was associated with that theatre, giving countless performances and making many recordings from the 78rpm era through to stereo. He was the houses chief conductor from 1953-62.
Alexander Orlov (1873-1948) was born in
St Petersburg and educated there and in Berlin, where he studied composition under Paul Juon. He had a varied career, taking in both opera and symphonic work, before being made chief conductor of the Moscow Radio Orchestra in 1930. He left a number of recordings.
Elena Kruglikova (1907-82) was from Podolsk. She studied at the Moscow Conservatory with Xenia Dorliak (mother of the concert singer Nina Dorliak), graduating with distinction in 1932 and almost immediately joining the Bolshoi, where she sang until 1956. Best known as an opera soloist, she was also in demand for concerts. From 1958 she taught singing at her alma mater. Her repertoire took in a number of the more lyrical Russian opera rôles, as well as Matilde in Guillaume Tell and the lighter Wagnerian parts. She recorded several other complete operas.
Elizaveta Antonova (1904-?), from St Petersburg, studied there and from 1924-29 sang in the Bolshoi Chorus. After a few years concentrating on concert work and becoming known as one of Russias foremost contraltos, she returned to the Bolshoi as a soloist in 1934, remaining there for twenty years. She sang mainly Russian repertoire but also appeared as Fricka in The Ring and even as Leonore in Fidelio. She made several other complete opera recordings.
Ivan Kozlovsky (1900-93) had perhaps the most glorious career of any lyric tenor in the twentieth century. Born in a village in the Poltava area of the Ukraine, he studied at the Kiev Conservatory and made his début in Poltava in 1920 in Gounods Faust. He came to the Bolshoi in 1926 after stints in Kharkov and Sverdlovsk, making his bow as Alfredo in La Traviata, and last sang there on his ninetieth birthday, contributing Monsieur Triquets couplets from Eugene Onegin to a gala concert in his honour. His wide repertoire encompassed many of the lyric tenor leads in Russian, French and Italian opera, but also Lohengrin and such character rôles as the Idiot in Boris Godunov. He made countless recordings, ranging as far afield as Benjamin Brittens Serenade. His plangent, immediately recognisable voice was ideal for the rôle of Lensky.
Panteleimon Nortsov (1900-93) was Kozlovskys exact contemporary, came from the same part of the Ukraine and also studied in Kiev, starting as a tenor but soon realising he was actually a baritone. He started his career in Kiev in 1924 and sang in Kharkov and at the Bolshoi before joining the regular Bolshoi company in 1925. Older opera-goers who could remember Battistini compared him with that paragon. In almost thirty years at the house, he sang Onegin some 600 times but shone in other Russian rôles too, as well as Mozart and the great French and Italian baritone parts. He had a wide repertoire of art songs, especially those by Russian composers. From 1951 he taught at the Gnesin Institute and later also at the Moscow Conservatory. He left other complete opera recordings as well as song recitals. On this recording we are deprived of his excellent stage presence but can almost see it, so vivid is his characterization.
Maxim Mikhailov (1893-1971), who sings Zaretsky as well as his usual rôle of Gremin, was one of the great Russian basses, from a legendary generation which also included Mark Reisen and the Pirogov brothers. Born into a peasant family in the province of Kazan, he sang in his village church choir and as a teenager moved to Kazan itself, where he worked as a labourer before being accepted into a monastery. He was deeply impressed by hearing Chaliapin as Ivan Susanin, the rôle with which he himself would be most closely identified; but he made his name as a church and cathedral singer, with the rank of deacon. In 1930 he began to be heard on the radio and in 1932 joined the Bolshoi, singing all the major bass rôles over the next 24 years his favourite Ivan Susanin more than 400 times. He made many recordings, ranging from complete operas to folk-songs, and appeared in films including Eisensteins Ivan the Terrible.
Thanks to Juris Grinevics
 The Introduction establishes Tatiana as the principal character in the following opera, based on a leitmotif associated with her.
 The first scene is set in the garden of the Larins country estate. The voices of Tatiana and her sister Olga are heard from the house, singing together. Mme Larina, their mother, recalls with the old family nurse Filipievna her own courtship and her marriage.  Peasants returning from the fields sing and dance, celebrating the harvest.  The two sisters, Tatiana and Olga, appear in contrast, the former bookish and the latter more outgoing, as she herself claims in her aria.  As the peasants leave, Mme Larina comments on Tatianas tendency to immerse herself in reading. The nurse announces the approach of Lensky and an unknown companion.  Lensky appears, greeting the women, and the men weigh the girls up, while Tatiana sees in Onegin the man that she has long awaited.  Tatiana and Onegin walk away together, leaving Lensky with Olga, to whom he again declares his devotion.  Mme Larina sends the nurse to find Tatiana and Onegin, who return, she now obviously in love with him, to the reservations of the nurse, who goes out shaking her head.
 Tatiana, ready to retire for the night, is sitting in her room in her night dress. She cannot sleep and asks her nurse about her own courtship and marriage, a far more prosaic affair than Tatiana could imagine from her reading. Tatiana is distracted, however, and asks for a pen and paper.  She sets about writing a letter to Onegin, a declaration of her love for him. Dawn breaks and a shepherds pipe is heard.  Her nurse, coming to waken Tatiana, is surprised to find that she is still up. Tatiana gives her the letter she has written, telling her to have her grandson deliver it to Onegin.
 In the garden peasant girls are heard singing at their work.  Tatiana has awaited the coming of Onegin with trepidation, but when he appears he addresses her coolly, explaining why he cannot marry her and suggesting that she learn to exercise greater self-control. The voices of the girls are heard again, as he offers Tatiana his arm and they leave together.
 The Larins are celebrating Tatianas name-day. The room in the house is brightly lit and couples are dancing, Tatiana with Onegin, on whom some of the guests comment unfavourably among themselves, and Olga with Lensky. Onegin finds the whole provincial entertainment tedious and decides to provoke Lensky by dancing with Olga.  Lensky, upset at her behaviour, reproaches Olga, who passes the matter off, exciting his further jealousy. The elderly French tutor, Monsieur Triquet, offers his fulsome tribute to Tatiana, presenting her with a copy of his homage, to her embarrassment.  The dancing resumes with a mazurka. Tatiana dances with the local Company Commander, whose band provides the music for the occasion, while Onegin dances for a time with Olga, before sitting down again with her, pretending to notice Lensky, who has been standing behind them.  The two men quarrel. Onegin tries to pacify his friend, but Lensky insists on satisfaction, to the consternation of the whole company. Tatiana is in tears and Lensky bids Olga farewell for ever, as he rushes out, leaving Olga fainting.
 It is early morning on a river-bank near a water-mill. Lensky and his second Zaretsky are waiting for Onegin. Lensky remembers the happiness he has now lost, meditating on his possible fate in the duel to come.  Onegin appears, accompanied by his valet Guillot as his second, an insulting breach of etiquette. The combatants each muse on the unavoidable conflict in which they are now implicated. Matters are arranged by Zaretsky, pistols are loaded and the duellists approach each other and fire. Lensky falls dead, to Onegins horror.
 A polonaise is heard at the reception in the richly decorated house of Prince Gremin in St Petersburg.  Onegin watches, still bored at the proceeding and haunted, during years abroad, by the death of Lensky. The approach of Princess Gremina is announced, and Tatiana comes in, with her husband, the Prince. Onegin recognises her at once, and Prince Gremin goes to speak to him, while Tatiana asks who the stranger is, trying to hide her feelings when she learns his identity.  Prince Gremin tells his old friend Onegin about his marriage and the happiness it has brought him during the last two years.  Tatiana and the Prince leave, while Onegin realises that he is in love with her, as dancing resumes.
 In the drawing-room of the Gremin mansion Tatiana holds a letter. She has been upset by Onegins return. Onegin rushes in and kneels at her feet, avowing his love, but she reminds him of his former rejection of her. Once happiness had been near, but now she will be faithful to her husband. She tells him to go, but is forced to admit that she still loves him. He seeks to embrace her, but she draws back, declaring her fidelity to her husband and rejecting him for ever. She rushes out, leaving him distraught.
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