As of: February 5, 2024, 4:52 p.m
By: Markus Thiel
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Soprano total work of art and therefore a sure-fire success: Asmik Grigorian as Lisa in the production by Benedict Andrews.
© Wilfried Hösl
An extreme concentration on the characters was planned.
But this “Queen of Spades” remains stuck in constant nihilism: director Benedict Andrews only does rudimentary justice to the Tchaikovsky drama at the Bavarian State Opera.
At least there is Asmik Grigorian as Lisa.
Masked people, people dancing, the climax being fireworks - and of all things, the bass is the showstopper of the party.
Prince Jeletsky's declaration of love to Lisa, a wonderful, expansive aria, is the incursion of the dream concert into madness in popular performances of this opera.
And here?
A pinched official, sung by Boris Pinkhasovich with dazzling vocal beauty, clings to his beloved.
She frees herself from the tension and continues to walk on the choir platform, not to the true lover Hermann, but past him, to the edge of people and society.
A lonely person who will never find anything like love and fulfillment.
A few, extremely focused gestures and looks are needed for the meaningful minutes.
And you can imagine what could have become of this “Queen of Spades” at the Bavarian State Opera.
Such intense moments occur two or three more times.
And once there is even a gap in the performance - when in the Countess' big scene the music almost stands still and Violeta Urmana, as a late, mezzo-ready diva, dreams herself back to better times with slow-motion arm and hand movements.
Reduced to a few props
Benedict Andrews risks a well-known directorial trick for his Tchaikovsky premiere.
Everything is off the stage, no scenic gimmicks, but reduced to a few props.
Man, the production wants to say, is thrown back on himself - which in the case of Tchaikovsky and the original poet Pushkin means: lost.
But the self-inflicted emptiness of Andrews and set designer Rufus Didwiszus, a blackness through which remnants of dry ice fog waft, is hardly filled.
Even more: “Queen of Spades” is pushed together and narrowed down to a permanent nihilism.
A world of gambling mafiosi and their cool Amazon brides.
A surrealism through which the old countess, reproduced with younger versions, haunts.
An often picturesque gloom, a whispering piece of visions that Hermann apparently suffers.
But the piece is actually strong because it spreads.
Between genre images and monologues of loneliness, between folklore and introspection.
Which means: For his aesthetic monoculture, Andrew's “Queen of Spades” tailors itself the way he likes it.
Large parts of the ball act, including the ballet, are simply deleted, in the garden scenes only a choir phalanx forms on the ramp - as the flexible choir is almost never staged.
The result is a rump Tchaikovsky with a side note: the evening hardly goes beyond a (sometimes inconclusively drawn) psychological trip by Hermann.
Diffuse conducting by Aziz Shokhakimov
In a strange way, this direction finds its counterpart in the pit.
Aziz Shokhakimov.
Conducting whiz kid from Uzbekistan is the lively animator.
But what you hear: diffuse, general things, musically not optimally composed, even small swimming parties (especially at the beginning).
There is a loose writing on this rich score, hardly any penetration.
You don't have to look to the late Mariss Jansons, who once praised “The Queen of Spades” as one of the best operas ever.
But one would have liked to have heard a little more of the (in)depth of this music, of its stylistic spread between burlesque, Mozart quotes, choral aplomb and soulful tones, of its play with color values and exaggerations.
What a shame for the Bavarian State Orchestra.
It plays like it was sold short.
All the happier for the evening: there are singer-actors who are self-perpetuating.
Brandon Jovanovich, not yet fully recovered from illness, is a believably broken anti-hero as Hermann.
For him, singing also means (controlled) alienation, a search for truthfulness beyond tenor beauty.
The State Opera also has first-class casts in all other positions, just listen to Victoria Karkacheva as Polina, Roman Burdenko as Tomski or Kevin Conners as Tschekalinski.
And if you have Asmik Grigorian on stage, you don't need directing glutamate anyway.
As soon as Lisa appears at the edge of the stage, she is the center of attention.
A presence, an awareness of scenic force fields, with which the Lithuanian would effortlessly fit into an acting ensemble.
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Asmik Grigorian would need a sparring partner
There is also an immensely energetic voice.
Her singing develops a natural presence, nothing sounds like it has been forced or “made”.
A few weeks ago in Vienna she intelligently prepared Puccini's soprano killer Turandot for herself, now Grigorian switches effortlessly to Tchaikovsky.
You can feel that she has refined her Lisa a lot; this artist has already dominated over half a dozen productions of “Queen of Spades”.
Benedict Andrews takes advantage of this and goes one step further: this Lisa appears on the intermediate curtains, enlarged to gigantic size via video, burning cards or in tears.
The big Asmik show is suggested - which the performance only partially fulfills.
After all, even miracle singers like Grigorian need a real sparring partner in the director's chair.