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Tatyana and the Cynic Köln
Mönchengladbach (Theater)
06/09/2024 - & June 14, 18*, 29, September 25, 29, October 10 (Mönchengladbach), November 13, 16, 20, December 5, 14, 29, 2024, January 10, February 4, 14, 2025 (Krefeld)
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin, Opus 24
Sofia Poulopoulou (Tatyana), Rafael Bruck*/Miha Brkinjac (Eugene Onegin), Woongyi Lee (Lensky), Kejti Karaj (Olga), Hayk Deinyan*/Matthias Wippich (Prince Gremin), Eva Maria Günschmann (Larina), Satik Tumyan (Filipyevna), Arthur Meunier*/Kairschan Scholdybajew (M. Triquet), Bondo Gogia (Zaretsky), Gereon Grundmann/Frank Valentin (Captain)
Opernchor des Theaters Krefeld Mönchengladbach, Michael Preiser (chorus master), Niederrheinische Sinfoniker, Mihkel Kütson (conductor)
Helen Malkowsky (director), Tatjana Ivschina (sets), Anna-Sophie Lienbacher (costumes), Ulrike Aistleitner (dramaturgy)
R. Bruck, S. Poulopoulou (© Matthias Stutte)
Germany is without question a paradise for opera lovers. There are many opera companies and an abundance of choices for the public, for both the novice and aficionado alike. To be sure, La Traviata and La Bohème are omnipresent, but there are also intriguing rarities to be discovered within accessible distances.
Given the conglomeration of cities and towns in the Ruhr district in Northwestern Germany, there are scores of towns and cities that are linked by suburban transportation that enable one to easily enjoy an evening of opera. Basing myself for several days in Düsseldorf, a city of 650,000 inhabitants, I was able to venture into the small town of Mönchengladbach, population 250,000, some thirty minutes away, to see a production of Eugene Onegin. Amazingly, this industrial town has a first‑rate modern theatre (capacity 700!) that was almost sold out. The ambiance before the performance and during the intermission was vibrant and congenial. Given its proximity to Belgium – Liège is but 110 kms away – and to the Netherlands (Maastricht, 80 kms), there were a few French and Dutch speakers among the audience.
Living in North America, it’s a major event when a less common opera is performed somewhere less than a thousand kms away. I envy European opera lovers for their abundant choices. One Viennese friend refuses to see any of the common ones that he’s already seen. On my European trips, I make sure to see at least a few rarities. One day I hope to see some of the many infrequently performed operas by the likes of Meyerbeer, Schreker, Zemlinsky, Korngold, Respighi, Mascagni, Spontini and Massenet. Unlike my Viennese friend, I love seeing the same work many times over. Different voices and stagings provide further appreciation of cherished works. Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin is one I’m happy to see frequently. It’s one of the most moving romantic operas, affording huge possibilities for singers and directors.
The opera is loosely based on Pushkin’s verse-novel about a blasé nobleman and his tribulations due to his dispassionate view of life. The opera adaptation has a bigger emphasis on Tatyana, the young dreamy provincial, who is smitten with the nobleman at first sight, only to be rebuffed. Only slightly less prominent than the two protagonists is Lensky, a poet and Onegin’s best friend that the latter kills in a duel provoked by his cavalier flirtation with Olga, Tatyana’s sister and Lensky’s fiancée.
Director Helen Malkowsky’s vision of the work was visionary: austere sets concentrating on the psychological dimensions. The opera’s opener, usually on the porch of Tatyana’s family estate where the family greets the peasants returning from harvest, is here set indoors. Gone is the harvest, transposed instead to the wake of Mme Larina’s spouse, father to Olga and Tatyana. This deviation from the text is welcome, as it helps us to better understand the family dynamics. Mme Larina is relieved by her husband’s death. A young, obviously pregnant woman causes a scandal at the wake. Clearly she was made pregnant by the dead man. She leaves a letter among the funerary cards, which Mme Larina discards, which is then read by Tatyana. The outgoing Olga then acts as if nothing has happened. We have a clear delineation of the two sisters and their mother. We also understand that dreamy Tatyana is far from innocent.
Lensky and his friend attend the wake and Mme Larina is eager to remove her late husband’s portrait and receive the guests. As Onegin, Mexican-German baritone Rafael Bruck cuts a dashing figure, immediately evoking the character’s attributes: easygoing, charming, well‑mannered and, most of all, utterly blasé. Though a talented actor, endowed with an electric stage presence, Bruck’s voice is dry and lacks sensuality. His voice is the opposite of the Verdi baritone. To some extent, the lack of appeal of his timbre played into Onegin’s cynicism and antipathy.
Bruck conveyed the dandy’s nonchalance and ennui. Onegin is a difficult role to interpret, as he’s an anti‑Don Juan. He refuses to seduce the ingénue Tatyana, but through his constant ennui and lack of direction, he becomes infatuated with Tatyana years later. To interpret Onegin, the singer must be both charming and nonchalant, not hated. Only a great singer‑actor can win public sympathy playing such an unpleasant character. Happily, Bruck succeeded brilliantly in this regard.
Onegin’s scene with Tatyana at the end of Act I, “Vi mnye pisali... Kogda bi zhizn domashnim krugom,” was coldbloodly convincing. He was the patronizing dandy incarnate thanks to his stiff upright posture and studied gestures. His affecting Act III scene with Tatyana, “O! Kak mnye tyazhelo!... O, szhaltes, szhaltes nado mnoyu,” was among the performance’s most memorable moments. In it, Onegin implores the now‑married Tatyana to be his lover. It is set to the music of Tatyana’s Act I passionate letter scene, albeit in a frenzied rhythm. Maintaining his cool until now, Onegin then breaks down. This demands great artistry, both vocally and dramatically, which Bruck ably demonstrated without histrionics.
As Lensky, South Korean tenor Woongyi Lee was charm personified. His youthful voice is remarkable: beautiful, powerful and endowed with a brilliant squillo. With proper guidance, this tenor will go far. Throughout the opera, Lee conveyed the poet’s passion, a prerequisite to explain his insistence on a duel against Onegin. His famous aria, “Kuda, kuda, kuda vi udalilis,” was outstandingly executed, with the perfect touch of melancholy. My only reservation was his tendency to sing too forte. Some added nuance would have made him even more brilliant.
Tatjana Ivschina’s sets reflected neither epoch nor place. Suspended panels without portraits may have been a metaphor for characters not yet shaped, but I am guessing; it certainly was far from effective. However, it didn’t negatively affect the production, given the strength of the work and its performers.
The uncontested revelation of the evening was Greek soprano Sofia Poulopoulou, who was an ideal Tatyana. She is a unique soprano with a beautiful and distinct timbre. Her voice has natural trills and is immediately recognizable. Moreover, she navigates with extreme ease in the upper register. A talented actress, she deftly conveyed Tatyana’s emotional vicissitudes.
The letter scene, “Puskai pogilabnu ya, no pryezhde,” was brilliantly staged. Traditionally set at a desk, occasionally on the young woman’s bed, director Malkowsky chose to have the highly strung Tatyana nervously pace the room. She pours her heart out onto paper parchments that she tears from the backs of the hanging portraits. This idea was quite effective and made Tatjana’s eruptions of passion even more dramatically effective. Tatyana then unties her boots, removing the shoelaces to tie the parchments. This unusual wrapping emphasizes the rashness and spontaneity of her declaration to Onegin. When he returns her letter and breaks her heart, Malkowsky has Tatyana re‑tying her boots with the returned shoelaces. This is not the fragile ingénue portrayed in most productions.
In the final scene, Poulopoulou played the reserved grande dame, wife of Prince Gremin. She was able to show her vulnerability, despite the veneer of reserve. Malkowsky empowers Tatyana by having her come to Onegin rather than have Onegin sneak into her boudoir. This Tatyana confronts, laments the lost opportunity of a great love and declares her persistent desire for Onegin as well as the impossibility of her betraying her husband.
Albanian mezzo Kejti Karaj was a luxury in the role of Olga. Her dark, velvety mezzo contrasted beautifully with Poulopoulou’s lyric soprano in their duets. With such a rich voice, it’s a pity Olga has no solo arias. Dramatically, she conveyed the younger sister’s merry outlook on life and joie de vivre. Her flirtation with Onegin during Tatyana’s party seemed natural and spontaneous.
Armenian bass Hayk Deinyan, as Prince Gremin, was the cast’s weakest link. Perhaps it was a bad night, but he was decidedly underwhelming. The deep, warm voice required to reinforce the warmth and status of the nobleman was sadly absent. Despite his vocal shortcomings, he managed to convey the Prince’s poise and dignity in his comportment. Conductor Mihkel Kütson adopted a slow tempo for his aria “Lyubvi vsye vozrasti pokorni,” which was quite affecting, despite the low octane.
The supporting cast were well chosen. Given Malkowsky’s outlook, Eva Maria Günschmann was a convincingly angry Mme Larina. Armenian mezzo Satik Tumyan was a delightful Filipyevna, maternal and caring. Her warm mezzo, outstanding Russian diction and impressive characterization made this secondary role seem more important. Director Helen Malkowsky had a brilliant touch in making the old nurse more than complicit in Tatyana’s foolhardy missive to Onegin. At the beginning of the letter scene, Filipyevna discovers Tatyana’s romantic novel and reads its pages with enthusiasm until interrupted by its author, who has been spying on her. This creates a “mirror effect,” where the older woman reflects Tatyana’s ardour and vice versa.
Endowed with the looks of a matinée idol, young Belgian tenor Arthur Meunier was an outstanding Monsieur Triquet, yet he’s improbable in the role, given his allure and age. I will expound. In the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, for the nobility and upper bourgeoisie in countries aspiring to modernize and to emulate France, Imperial Russia, the Ottoman Empire, Egypt and the Balkan nations, it was common to employ a French tutor for one’s children. This would invariably be a mature man who would live with the family. Given the possibility of impropriety, a young man was not an option. No sane mother would hire an irresistible young lad to tutor her young daughters. Meunier’s rendition of “A cette fête conviés, de celle dont le jour est fêté... Brillez, toujours, belle Tatiana” was a veritable masterclass in French singing. It doesn’t suffice to be a native speaker of French to enunciate so perfectly.
The excursion to Mönchengladbach to see Onegin was a happy occasion. It’s both surprising and reassuring to happen upon such a well‑sung and intelligently staged production in a small town. Such excellence is rare, even in cities ten times as large. Bravissimo!
Ossama el Naggar
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