A couple of minutes before the start of the performance, accompanied by the theater’s general director Vladimir Urin, Tugan Sokhiev appeared in the hall, having officially taken over the post of chief conductor on February 1st. But he looked more like an honored guest than an executive at his workplace. It is clear from everything that Mr. Sokhiev, visiting the Bolshoi in the pauses between his overseas contracts, is still far from the everyday life of the theater and its pressing problems.
This is not the first season that the Bolshoi Theater has suffered not only from behind-the-scenes squabbles, but, above all, from a lack of creative concept. And only the upcoming “cleansing” of the old repertoire, planned by the director, will not do. A series of seemingly random premieres brings only episodic success. This time it was decided to take a win-win step. Taking as the basis for the production not the director's idea, but the scenography of Fyodor Fedorovsky's 1955 performance - a large-scale, sovereign spectacle of golden Soviet era Bolshoi Theater. And the public, indeed, greets the “picture” with constant delight.
From “The Tsar's Bride” you can learn about the history of Russia - it talks about the third wife of Ivan the Terrible, Marfa Saburova, who was poisoned by envious people two weeks after the wedding. In the opera, the story of the crime naturally takes on a romantic character. Much space is devoted to the unfortunate Marfa, her fiancé Ivan Lykov, the Tsar's oprichnik Grigory Gryazny, who coveted the beauty, and her rival Lyubasha. The composer, who was not too fond of melodramatic plots, decided to try himself in this genre in 1899, taking literary basis Mei's drama of the same name. And he created an absolute musical masterpiece.
So the only hero who is deprived of any words in the opera turned out to be Ivan the Terrible. But the USSR-born Israeli Yulia Pevzner, who was involved in the revival of the production as director, put the Tsar on a real zealous horse. And it should be noted that she famously collected in one performance a solid collection of not only directorial clichés, but also “imported” banalities about Russia, without any attempt to build a dramatic relationship between the characters. Drunken dancing, stabbing and forced love, naturally, in bearskin, are the hits of her directorial thought.
In such a situation, it was especially difficult for the young soloists, to whom the premiere was mainly given. They do not have much personal experience and their personality has not yet been formed, and, naturally, they cannot yet saturate the action with the internal tension of their own experiences. Therefore, despite the director’s stunt work, which is modest by modern standards, in essence, it turns out concert performance in extremely impressive costumes.
The girls - Agunda Kulaeva (Lyubasha), Olga Kulchinskaya (Marfa) - have very beautiful, full-voiced voices. Almost all the men, unfortunately, were, to put it mildly, out of voice on the day of the premiere: especially Alexander Kasyanov (Gryaznoy). There were a lot of mistakes in the vocals of Roman Shulakov (Lykov), and the famous Bolshoi bass Vladimir Matorin (Sobakin) performed his entire part off-key. And only Marat Gali (doctor-poisoner Bomelius) was successful in his role.
At the same time, it is impossible not to notice that the 82-year-old master Gennady Rozhdestvensky, who stood behind the conductor’s stand and urgently replaced Vasily Sinaisky, who extravagantly refused to continue working at the Bolshoi Theater on one day last December, does not pay special attention on the capabilities and needs of soloists. He gives Rimsky-Korsakov's score a slow-paced, meditative sound, rich in a huge palette of colors. It turns out very sensual and beautiful. It’s just a pity that the singers are sometimes at odds with the orchestra for an eternity.
That same eternity that the Bolshoi Theater still has to overcome in order to become that “heraldic” pride of the country that we all so need. But this cannot be achieved only by reincarnation of past, even the most remarkable pages from the legendary history of the theater.
Act I
The upper room in the house of the guardsman Grigory Gryazny. Grigory is in thought: he passionately fell in love with Martha, the daughter of the merchant Sobakin, but she was betrothed to the young boyar Ivan Lykov. To forget himself, Gryaznoy decided to arrange a feast, where he invited the royal physician Bomelius; Gryaznoy has important business with him. Guests arrive: guardsmen led by Malyuta Skuratov, a friend of Gryaznoy, Ivan Lykov and the long-awaited Elisey Bomeliy. Lykov talks about foreign lands from which he recently returned. Everyone praises Emperor Ivan the Terrible, feasts and has fun. Malyuta remembers Lyubasha. “Who is this... Lyubasha?” - asks Bomelius. “Dirty’s mistress, miracle girl!” - Malyuta answers. Gryaznoy calls Lyubasha, who, at Malyuta’s request, sings a song about the bitter lot of a girl forced to marry someone she doesn’t love. The guests disperse, Gregory detains Bomelius. Lyubasha, sensing something bad, overhears their conversation. Gryaznoy asks Bomelius for a love potion - “to bewitch the girl to himself.” The doctor promises to help.
After Bomelius leaves, Lyubasha bitterly reproaches Gregory for having stopped loving her. But Gryaznoy does not listen to the girl. They call for matins. Gregory leaves. Lyubasha vows to find the homewrecker and turn her away from Gryaznoy.
Act II
Love potion
Street in Alexandrovskaya Sloboda. The parishioners leave the monastery after Vespers. Marfa tells her friend about her fiancé Ivan Lykov. Suddenly a detachment of guardsmen appears from the gates of the monastery. She does not recognize Tsar Ivan the Terrible at the head of the detachment, but his gaze frightens Marfa. Only after seeing her father and groom does Martha calm down. Sobakin invites Lykov into the house, the girls follow them. Lyubasha appears at the Sobakins' house. She wants to see her rival and looks into the lighted window. Lyubasha is amazed by Marfa's beauty. In desperate determination, she rushes to Bomelius and asks him to sell a potion that could lime human beauty. Bomelius agrees in exchange for her love. Indignant Lyubasha wants to leave, but the doctor threatens to tell Gryazny about her request. Marfa's laughter coming from the Sobakins' house forces Lyubasha to agree to Bomelius's condition.
Act III
The upper room in the house of the merchant Sobakin. The owner tells Lykov and Gryaznoy that Marfa, along with Dunyasha and other boyar daughters, has been summoned to the Tsar’s palace for a viewing.
Lykov is alarmed, and Gryaznoy is alarmed. Sobakin tries to calm the groom down. Gryaznoy volunteers to be a groomsman at Lykov’s wedding.
Domna Saburova, Dunyasha’s mother, enters and talks about the Tsar’s bride viewing party. The king barely glanced at Martha, but was very affectionate with Dunyasha. Lykov sighs with relief. Grigory pours two glasses to congratulate the bride and groom, and he pours a love potion into Marfa’s glass. As soon as Martha enters the upper room, Gregory congratulates the newlyweds and brings them glasses. Martha, according to the ancient custom, drinks her glass to the bottom. Saburova sings a majestic song, which is picked up by the bridesmaids.
Malyuta solemnly appears with the boyars and announces the will of Ivan the Terrible - Martha has been chosen to marry the sovereign and become queen.
Act IV
Bride
Tsar's tower. Sobakin is saddened by his daughter’s illness: a serious unknown illness is tormenting her. Gryaznoy comes with the Tsar's word and reports to Marfa that Lykov allegedly repented of his intention to kill Marfa with a potion and the Tsar ordered his execution, which he, Gryaznoy, did with his own hand. Martha falls unconscious to the floor. When she wakes up, she doesn’t recognize anyone: she mistakes Gryaznoy for Lykov, speaks affectionately to him, remembering her time with her fiancé. happy Days. Shocked, Gryaznoy confesses that he slandered Lykov and killed Marfa himself by giving her a love potion. Gryaznoy, in despair, is ready to accept a “terrible judgment,” but before that he wants to “divorce” Bomelius, who deceived him. “Divorce me,” Lyubasha, who appears, tells him. She says that she replaced the love potion that was given to Marfa with poison. Gregory kills her with a knife.
But Martha does not notice anything. All her thoughts are in the past, with Lykov.
Revelry
The upper room in the house of the guardsman Grigory Gryazny. Grigory is in thought: he passionately fell in love with Martha, the daughter of the merchant Sobakin, but she was betrothed to the young boyar Ivan Lykov. To forget himself, Gryaznoy decided to arrange a feast, where he invited the royal physician Bomelius; Gryaznoy has important business with him. Guests arrive: guardsmen led by Malyuta Skuratov, a friend of Gryaznoy, Ivan Lykov and the long-awaited Elisey Bomeliy. Lykov talks about foreign lands from which he recently returned. Everyone praises Emperor Ivan the Terrible, feasts and has fun. Malyuta remembers Lyubasha. “Who is this... Lyubasha?” - asks Bomelius. “Dirty’s mistress, miracle girl!” - Malyuta answers. Gryaznoy calls Lyubasha, who, at Malyuta’s request, sings a song about the bitter lot of a girl forced to marry someone she doesn’t love. The guests disperse, Gregory detains Bomelius. Lyubasha, sensing something bad, overhears their conversation. Gryaznoy asks Bomelius for a love potion - “to bewitch the girl to himself.” The doctor promises to help.
After Bomelius leaves, Lyubasha bitterly reproaches Gregory for having stopped loving her. But Gryaznoy does not listen to the girl. They call for matins. Gregory leaves. Lyubasha vows to find the homewrecker and turn her away from Gryaznoy.
Act II
Love potion
Street in Alexandrovskaya Sloboda. The parishioners leave the monastery after Vespers. Marfa tells her friend about her fiancé Ivan Lykov. Suddenly a detachment of guardsmen appears from the gates of the monastery. She does not recognize Tsar Ivan the Terrible at the head of the detachment, but his gaze frightens Marfa. Only after seeing her father and groom does Martha calm down. Sobakin invites Lykov into the house, the girls follow them. Lyubasha appears at the Sobakins' house. She wants to see her rival and looks into the lighted window. Lyubasha is amazed by Marfa's beauty. In desperate determination, she rushes to Bomelius and asks him to sell a potion that could destroy human beauty. Bomelius agrees in exchange for her love. Indignant Lyubasha wants to leave, but the doctor threatens to tell Gryazny about her request. Marfa's laughter coming from the Sobakins' house forces Lyubasha to agree to Bomelius's condition.
Act III
Friend
The upper room in the house of the merchant Sobakin. The owner tells Lykov and Gryaznoy that Marfa, along with Dunyasha and other boyar daughters, has been summoned to the Tsar’s palace for a viewing.
Lykov is alarmed, and Gryaznoy is alarmed. Sobakin tries to calm the groom down. Gryaznoy volunteers to be a groomsman at Lykov’s wedding.
Domna Saburova, Dunyasha’s mother, enters and talks about the Tsar’s bride viewing party. The king barely glanced at Martha, but was very affectionate with Dunyasha. Lykov sighs with relief. Grigory pours two glasses to congratulate the bride and groom, and he pours a love potion into Marfa’s glass. As soon as Martha enters the upper room, Gregory congratulates the newlyweds and brings them glasses. Martha, according to the ancient custom, drinks her glass to the bottom. Saburova sings a majestic song, which is picked up by the bridesmaids.
Malyuta solemnly appears with the boyars and announces the will of Ivan the Terrible - Martha has been chosen to marry the sovereign and become queen.
Act IV
Bride
Tsar's tower. Sobakin is saddened by his daughter’s illness: a serious unknown illness is tormenting her. Gryaznoy comes with the Tsar's word and reports to Marfa that Lykov allegedly repented of his intention to kill Marfa with a potion and the Tsar ordered his execution, which he, Gryaznoy, did with his own hand. Martha falls unconscious to the floor. When she wakes up, she doesn’t recognize anyone: she mistakes Gryazny for Lykov, speaks affectionately to him, remembering the happy days spent with her fiancé. Shocked, Gryaznoy confesses that he slandered Lykov and killed Marfa himself by giving her a love potion. Gryaznoy, in despair, is ready to accept a “terrible judgment,” but before that he wants to “divorce” Bomelius, who deceived him. “Divorce me,” Lyubasha, who appears, tells him. She says that she replaced the love potion that was given to Marfa with poison. Gregory kills her with a knife.
But Martha does not notice anything. All her thoughts are in the past, with Lykov.
Price:
from 3000 to 20,000 rub.
Opera "The Tsar's Bride."
Performed with two intermissions.
Duration: 3 hours 30 minutes.
Ticket prices: 
bilkon 2000-10,000 rub.
Mezzanine 2500-14000 rub.
Amphitheater 10,000-14,000 rub.
Parterre 12000-18000 rub.
The drama “The Tsar's Bride,” written by playwright, poet and translator L. Mey, attracted the attention of composer Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov in 1868. True, Rimsky-Korsakov began creating an opera based on this plot only thirteen years later, in the winter of 1898. After 10 months, the opera was ready. In the fall of 1899, the premiere took place on the stage of the Moscow private opera theater of S.I. Mamontov.
The work of L. May, which was the basis of the opera, was created based on the historical episode of the third marriage of Tsar Ivan the Terrible. According to little-known historical data, the king began to look for a third wife, having become quite bored as a widower. Applicants were brought from all over the Russian land, and as a result, Grozny chose the beautiful Marfa Sobakina, the daughter of a Novgorod merchant. At the same time, the king chose a bride for his son. The girls' fathers received boyar rank, estates and wealth. But the royal bride suddenly began to get sick - she was losing weight and getting dry every day. They said it was all to blame gossips, haters of Ivan the Terrible. Suspicion fell on the close relatives of the deceased queens... Many people were killed. Despite Martha's illness, the king married her, hoping, in his words, to save the girl, trusting in God's mercy... But a few days after wedding feast unfortunate Martha died, and no one ever found out whether she really was a victim of human malice or became an unwitting culprit of numerous executions and massacres...
The historical plot was reinterpreted in accordance with artistic design. Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera “The Tsar’s Bride,” which you can visit today at the Bolshoi Theater, takes viewers to the era of the reign of Ivan the Terrible, during the period when there was a bloody struggle between the guardsmen and the boyars. Despotism and arbitrariness manifested themselves everywhere, and in May’s play the dramatic situations, And everyday life Moscow Rus' of that era, characters from various social strata are presented. The libretto of the opera “The Tsar’s Bride” almost completely repeats the text of Mey’s play and does not introduce significant changes. In the opera, there is a contrast between two characters - the pure, bright, charming Martha and the domineering, insidious, hot-tempered Dirty. Besides these central figures, there are other equally significant characters - Lyubasha, Gryazny’s abandoned lover; the cruel and calculating Elisha Bomelius; gullible and naive Lykov. The presence of Tsar Ivan the Terrible is felt invisibly throughout the entire opera, although Ivan Vasilyevich himself appears on stage once and does not utter a word...
Libretto by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Ilya Tyumenev based on the drama of the same name by Lev May
Musical director and conductor -
Gennady Rozhdestvensky
Stage director: Yulia Pevzner
Scenographer: Alona Pikalova
based on the scenography by Fyodor Fedorovsky (1955)
Costume designer: Elena Zaitseva
Chief choirmaster - Valery Borisov
Lighting designer: Damir Ismagilov
Choreographer: Ekaterina Mironova
"The Tsar's Bride" was written by Rimsky-Korsakov in 1898 in ten months, premiered on October 22, 1899 in Private opera S. I. Mamontova. The opera was received ambiguously by contemporaries, but it has stood the test of time very successfully, remaining one of the composer’s most sought-after creations today. Very close, in fact, to European opera, in musically understandable and familiar to Western listeners, but at the same time equipped with a rich Russian flavor and melody - this is exactly the work that is perfectly suited for presenting the possibilities of Russian opera to foreigners, it has a place among “ business cards» Bolshoi Theater, the main opera house of Moscow.
And this is where the list of disappointed expectations begins. Performances, as is now customary in opera houses, come with captions. When foreign operas are performed in the original language, the Russian translation is used, but here, naturally, a translation from Russian into English appeared. To be honest, Russian subtitles would not have been a bad idea - an obvious minority of singers were able to handle the diction perfectly, and the realistic concept of the production still made it necessary to thoroughly understand every word. But the point is not even this, but the very vocabulary of the translation: to translate the libretto of the opera, written in the century before last about historical events ancient times, in the language of second-rate Hollywood films, is an unacceptable vulgar idea. After all, no one is trying to translate, for example, Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” into Russian in the vocabulary of a detective series (although why not, since both are crime dramas about murders), but on the contrary, for some reason it turned out to be possible...
In fact, of course, this is not the most great evil, nevertheless alarming. A much greater danger, paradoxically, lay in the direction, the place of which in the reconstructed production seems to be not at all so significant.
But first, a little digression. To me, who loves fanatically opera genre, I always hated the radicalism of modern directors, and it seemed that there was nothing more beautiful than traditionalism in the director’s concept. However, the premiere of The Tsar's Bride revealed a different problem. Not in radical modernization as such, not in emphasizing a hidden or contrived semantic layer - everything is clear with this, well, that’s what a director’s opera is! In a sense, this approach gradually influenced us as spectators - we will never be the same again, but will wait for the introduction of new technical capabilities on the stage and a reasonable “shaking out of the mothballs.” But the greatest evil happens when the mothball caftans and ceiling-mounted fortresses are just in place, and the viewer receives the expected and familiar spectacle, but from the inside, in small ways, corroded by an absolutely inappropriate wormhole of analogies with modernity.
"The Tsar's Bride" at the Bolshoi Theater. Photo by Damir Yusupov/Bolshoi Theater
Here, for example, is the end of the second act: Tsar Ivan the Terrible rides on a horse - well, let’s say, on the great theater stages he often went like this, although it is clear that the public, as soon as the animal appeared on stage, no longer cared about the fact that someone was still singing and playing there at that moment. But here a small “modern” detail is introduced: he is not accompanied by a guardsman with a broom, as in the libretto, but by a good platoon of them with sabers openly protruding from under the monastic robes in which they are dressed for camouflage, and the path ahead of them is scouted by other “employees” " Authors of the 19th century never even dreamed of such “security measures” for a sovereign who decided to secretly look at merchant daughters.
But Gryazny’s big aria – torment alone with oneself? Nothing of the kind, he is the one who opens up with the servant who is busy doing housework, and the latter, having completed his work, quietly and without any permission leaves. Or the girls who are in old times Muscovites kept “locked up”, frivolously swinging on a kindergarten swing right in the middle of the street - to the joy of good fellows. The same Gryaznoy is not taken away to be punished for a crime against the sovereign, but is quickly stabbed with a knife right on the stage, leaving Marfa with a corpse even before all her lines are over. Hay girls served on the table, and then harnessed to the “Russian bird-troika”, which rides the drunken Malyuta, wearing necklaces and festive boyar kokoshniks... Do I need to continue?
About kokoshniks and costumes, along with bear skins, boyar hats and other things, turning “haberdashery realism” in the style of Sergei Solomko (maybe, by the way, completely normal for the first productions of the opera a hundred years ago) into spreading export “cranberries” today - separate conversation. Not only foreigners, but also our fellow citizens are sure that the Russian style is a kokoshnik, pearls, fur dusheres, as well as kaftans and sundresses (the words themselves, by the way, are Turkic). The basis for this performance was laid by world-famous photographs from a costume ball in Winter Palace in February 1903, to put it modern language, a “reconstruction party” in which society ladies and gentlemen were ordered to dress up smartly in ancient fashion, about which they had a very vague idea. Therefore, officers boldly put Polish robes on starched shirts, and ladies coquettishly placed precious kokoshniks over their cropped and curled locks (despite the fact that historically this is a headdress that symbolically covers a married woman’s hair forever after the wedding). That ball was the last of such a scale in Russian history; two years later the first revolution happened and there was no time for that, while even its participants themselves in their memoirs called the costumes not authentically historical, but “opera.” It's been since then more than a century, the degree of scientific research into the history of costume and the availability of information in libraries and the Internet has fundamentally changed. Now, in a couple of clicks, it’s not difficult to find out that the kokoshnik (if there was one in the family at all, since only fairly wealthy people could afford to order it) was worn only a few times in life - after the wedding and on especially important holidays, and that this shape and degree of decoration precious stones, as now on stage, kokoshniks could only be worn by married women from the upper boyar class. And if such ideas are used in the ironic comedy “Ivan Vasilyevich changes his profession”, then in the serious opera production, and even with the declared historicism - extremely reckless. For then the question arises, which one historical truths Do we maintain such “realism”?
There are at least three options: the design of operas in the style of the author’s times (in the current premiere partially reflected in the costumes), Soviet scenography (here implemented in partially preserved and rebuilt New World scenery, quite spectacular) or are we using real Russian history? And the viewer who does not bother with the details leaves the performance, by the way, with the full conviction that it was she who was shown to him! Worse yet, onto a pseudo-historical picture, the director, with much greater ease than in a modernist production, can load any mythology, any random or directed associations regarding the interpretation of our history - and they will happily be “eaten up”, imperceptibly, at the subconscious level. Not only is this easier than thoroughly thinking about how people lived then, how they moved, how they behaved, but it also gives room for manipulation!
However, let's return to the opera; not everyone, like the royal bride, languishes behind a false gilded cage of stage decisions. The presence of the venerable conductor Gennady Rozhdestvensky ensured that the performance had a sufficiently conventional attitude towards our great opera, its musical accents, as well as, as far as possible in the premiere, the minimization of orchestral defects. That's probably all. The choir, unfortunately, did not have time to bring it to the same level of readiness - there was a rather unsung, on the verge of lacking, intonation in the tenor and soprano groups and a general dullness and dustiness of the sound.
Marfa - Olga Kulchinskaya. Lykov - Roman Shulakov. Photo by Damir Yusupov/Bolshoi Theater
The vocalists, on the whole, left a moderately good impression. The list of praise should definitely start with Marat Gali (Bomeliy) - he’s brilliant characteristic tenor, with excellent diction, with a flying and expressive sound. The director's concept saw in the royal doctor a real medieval European warlock - so for Galya and acting this is not a problem, he turned out to be a colorful lame old man, devilishly cunning and tenacious.
Our outstanding bass Vladimir Matorin (Sobakin) also appeared on stage, of course, having now crossed the equator of optimal vocal form in his long-term career, but still maintaining the condition for performing Russian operas. Its bass is still sonorous, as if specially created by nature to fill the historical hall of the Bolshoi Theater. Even if the voice was already somewhat unfocused, the artist played this correctly, making his hero not a “noble father,” but rather also a characteristic Russian character, extremely sincere both in his love for the feast and in his burning paternal sadness.
Behind the soprano Olga Kulchinskaya (Marfa), with all the questions about the acting part (well, it’s not very good when a merchant’s daughter, modest and not in very good health, last minute sportsly rushes around the stage and throws out completely modern gestures), vocal success should be recognized. The composer honored the titular heroine with an extraordinary task, giving her a couple of main themes and two large arias that were similar in material. But Kulchinskaya managed to remain the main one on stage and did not turn the opera into “Grigory Gryaznoy” (as happens most often) or even “Vasily Sobakin” (although Matorin, admittedly, was very close to pulling the blanket over himself). Her voice is soft, in no way glassy-coloratura, but rather lyrical, bright enough for the Bolshoi stage, with a good school and not yet chattered at all, fresh and pleasant. And the singer uses it very wisely, without overload, but expressively, somehow very European. Final scene from this, of course, it finally turned into “the madness of Lucia di Lammermoor”, quite active, and not sacrificially passive - the singer’s interpretation only emphasized the musical similarity laid down by the composer of the two great scenes.
Alexander Kasyanov (Gryaznoy) gave up the championship without a fight. The role of the restless Tsar's guardsman is probably familiar to the singer, having long been unlearned, and even the premiere excitement in the main theater of the country did not spoil this. But we didn’t get any special impression, a true tragedy - he worked the part conscientiously as best he could, rather than lived through it. The same can be said about the work of Irina Udalova (Saburova) and Elena Novak (Dunyasha) - they did everything standardly, didn’t spoil anything, didn’t reveal any revelations, but unlike Gryaznoy, this wasn’t required in their small roles.
The most controversial result was shown by Agunda Kulaeva (Lyubasha). At the moment of entering the stage, her very first phrase made the audience shudder - a roundly noble, deep, almost contralto sound, tragic color. But then there are goosebumps, despite the fact that musical text she has the most fertile and diverse, did not appear again. The scale of the stage and the hall forced the singer, in pursuit of sonority, to shift the top notes in a purely drumsoprane manner, and the bottom notes somehow became dull due to excessive ennoblement. It’s not that it looked bad – on the contrary, she sang better than many. Just knowing the capabilities of this singer, I have a different opinion about her - I wanted more, and we believe that it will really manifest itself over time. But the main thing is that she, together with Kulchinskaya, did not fall into the peculiar stylistic trap of this work - the parts of Marfa and Lyubasha are written in a close range with a difference of only one and a half tones, and the sound should be very contrasting - and they really felt it!
Lykov's part from Roman Shulakov requires more serious preparation - for some reason the singer saw in it an Italian hero-lover, and not a lyrically pensive “pro-Western liberal” from the time of Ivan the Terrible. Shulakov tried to sing brightly, expressively, sometimes he neglected consistent performance of the role for the sake of exaggerated vocalization, this interfered with intoning, and there was no need to talk about any freedom and real flight of sound.
Well, frankly not best job Oleg Tsybulko (Malyuta) succeeded - for a fairly young and “Italian-like”, not Russian bass, it may be too early to sing it, and to play it is not close in texture. The tall singer, portraying drunken fun in the costume of Malyuta, seemed extremely tense and tense - like the merry master of life, but instead of joy and daring, for some reason there was only torment and stiffness in his appearance.
As for forecasts about the future of this performance: we believe that there will almost certainly be many new introductions of Russian soloists ahead, perhaps other conducting forces, and it is possible that there will also be a rejection of some unnecessary movements of the artists on stage within the framework of the director’s concept. But the main thing is that we have such an opera, and it is sung at the Bolshoi.
Photo by Damir Yusupov / Bolshoi Theater