As a director, there is no getting around the fact that Hermann is a tragic hero and that he enjoys the composer's sympathy. In the closing bars, after Hermann's impulsive suicide, such an incredible tristesse can be heard in the orchestra that it is inevitable that the composer has identified with Hermann. In his diary entry of March 2, 1890, we read : " Wept bitterly as Hermann breathed his last. The result of exhaustion or perhaps because it is really good". You can count on the second option being applicable. It is not a pathological pursuit of wealth that drives Hermann to the gambling tables but his ill-fated love for Lisa. It is the class interests of the aristocratic society surrounding him that sideline him as an impecunious officer with German roots and that instill in him the delusion of the three cards. Only in the hour of his death will he realize his tragic mistake. The final bars of the opera are among the most devastating moments in opera literature. Provided, then, that the director has made you learn to love Hermann. Director Benedict Andrews shows his understanding of the piece when he summarizes the final scene as follows: “For a moment, Tchaikovsky makes us feel deep compassion for the outsider, for the man broken by obsession and addiction. But there is no final redemption. It is utterly tragic and hopeless." In other words : Tchaikovsky's Pique Dame ends in a harrowing kind of nihilism. A catharsis is not granted to Hermann. The problem is that the director embraces this nihilism from the very beginning and makes the main character's downfall tangible from the start.
The big absentee in this production is Russia. Don't ask me why but I can think of a reason. In this piece which goes back to its national poet Alexander Pushkin, Russia's presence is less essential than it seems. Essential in that respect are only the slavic timbres of the soloists. The inequality, class difference and social coercion of Tsarist Russia is thereby dropped. Andrews places the action in a gangster culture, an aesthetic-dramaturgical framework that has its own laws and hierarchies but which is primarily meant to convey his fascination with film noir and Chinese neo-noir. David Lynch is another source of inspiration. In that constellation, Lisa is the unattainable sweetheart of mob boss Jeletzky. The director did not really succeed in this conversion to the gangster milieu - not so bad as an idea after all. Why do directors always have to focus on concepts that are difficult to realize and therefore counterproductive ?
Compelling and stunningly beautiful is the cinematic opening image, which is spread in beautiful black and white across the full width of the proscenium during the overture: from the darkness, Lisa approaches us to end up in a super close-up as she sets fire to her rival - a playing card (woman in spades, of course) - with a lighter. You can't get closer than this as a spectator-voyeur to diva Asmik Grigorian. The director knows that the diva is his main asset and he will portray her again and again, sometimes in confusion, sometimes in tears, introducing the most important scenes. You won't get to see more film noir during this performance. Unfortunately, by this point it is also clear that this is not going to be a big night for the orchestra. Why does the Bayerisches Staatsorchester under Aziz Shokhakimov sound so rough, so lacking in transparency, so banal almost? The soloistic details went unnoticed; they seemed buried in the score. Throughout the evening, this uncommitted musicianship will drive the action only piecemeal. That was quite different 2 years ago when former GMD Kirill Petrenko and the Berliner Philharmoniker played the piece in Baden-Baden (2022). The following day, Sebastian Weigle will demonstrate at length how an experienced conductor can make a difference. All this does not mean, however, that this was a lost evening.
Dark, black and at times ominous is the open space without walls in Rufus Didwiszus' design. The actors appear from nowhere on the stage. The gaming tables are already present in the opening scene to illustrate that Hermann is not playing. You won't find out here why he is an outcast. Surprisingly, the patriotic children's chorus ("We are here to fight the enemies of Russia!") has not been deleted. From the start, Hermann seems suicidal. He swings a revolver very easily and already holds it to his temple at times. Polina sings her romance outdoors in the glare of the headlights of four cars. A mobile stage accommodates the chorus for the masked ball. The chorus members wear Venetian masks and perform choreographic moves. It is all very nice but does it also serve the piece? The pastoral interlude, a showstopper in any production of Pique Dame, is untenable in this context. Like Robert Carsen (Zurich), Andrews has dropped this Mozart pastiche. It is an intervention that is always defensible as far as I am concerned since it provides the piece with greater dramaturgical unity. After all, was it not an addition intended as a crowd pleaser, initiated by Ivan Vsevolozhsky, driving force behind the opera and responsible for the first great heyday of the Mariinsky Theater ? Today it is almost unbelievable that the interlude had to be repeated at its premiere in 1890. Mafia boss Jeletzki sings his great aria from the stands in the presence of the chorus. Intended only for his fiancée's ears, he no doubt sings it here as a public statement to scare off rivals.
Weak is the scene in the old countess' bedroom, a scene that almost never fails because here we find her in her greatest intimacy as she shares with us her reflections on the past. The tension is lacking and this has to do with both the orchestra and the scene. Andrews places the countess in a shallow pool of water in the middle of the scene. An angled mirror shows what is happening at her feet. Her five doubles engage in a choreographic interaction with Hermann who will waterboard one of them in his attempt to retrieve the secret of the three cards. Is the Countess' funeral fantasy or reality ? The Lynchian atmosphere the director tries to evoke with four hookers under the gaze of their pimp is another scene that barely works. The Countess reveals her secret in stroboscopic neon light. The hyper-reality that has now come into effect means that "three, seven, ace" can become Hermann's mantra of madness.
A dark, lonesome road leading nowhere, bordered by street lamp posts, is the setting for the scene on the banks of the Neva. No stage directions are needed for the diva to finish her final scene effectively before plunging into the Neva. The men's chorus is fantastic in the final scene, both when they are having fun and during the sacred ending after Hermann collapses on the prompter's booth. The final requiem works because there is nothing the director has done that could have made us lose our sympathy for Hermann.
For Asmik Grigorian, it's a big night. Interpretatively, she is stronger than in the Matthias Hartmann production for Milan (2022) which I saw only on video. She manages to energize every scene with her electrifying appearance: the romance to the moon, the duet in the intimacy of her bedroom (strong and exciting thanks to a well performing Hermann), the farewell on the banks of the Neva. She has the best projecting voice of the evening and everything she sings seems to arise from an honest internalized dealing with the text. Her delivery is intonationally pure with great flexibility in phrasing; the register transitions are flawless, the timbre is beautiful, the control of the vibrato total. This was musical excellence with real spinto outbursts that seem to suggest her voice has grown a tad larger.
Brandon Jovanovich is not an ideal Hermann. That was already apparent in Hans Neuenfels' production (Salzburg, 2018). To me, he seemed to have grown in his mastery of the Russian idiom. He sometimes has less control over the vibrato. He articulates the part with intelligence and insight, therefore manages to captivate but he does not possess the Slavic timbre of Asmik's father for whom this was a signature role. He is most convincing in the crucial love duet. Boris Pinkhasovich as Prince Jeletzky performed better than on previous occasions. His "Ia vas lioubliou" was breathtakingly beautiful and, topped off with a fine messa di voce. Currently, I consider only Alexei Markov capable of doing even better. Victoria Karkacheva interpreted Polina with sufficient sense of style, albeit with the color of a mezzo rather than an alto. Roman Burdenko as Tomski could not really achieve a personal highlight with the "Three Cards" ballad but in his concluding ode to womanhood he was once again the fantastic womanizer. Violetta Urmana still has voice enough to sing the part of the old countess, a role for divas in the late summer of their careers, without a hitch. She could not really excel with her stage presence in this production. With Kevin Connors as Chekalinsky and Balint Szabo as Surin, the smaller roles were also well cast.
Also available for viewing as a stream via Medici TV.