More Opera Oddities

Mikhailovsky Theatre, St. Petersburg

Since this was the last weekend before work starts to get very intense here, I devoted the bulk of it to seeing as many performances as possible. St Petersburg is offering no shortage of opportunities to see unusual operas.

At the Conservatory on Saturday night, my colleague Victoria Evtodieva participated in another concert in the Festival devoted to works about the Tsars. This one featured excerpts from two French operas nearly a hundred years apart, Grétry’s Pierre le Grand, based on the life of Peter the Great, and Bizet’s Ivan IV, about Ivan the Terrible.

Grétry, whose name would be a perfect answer for a crossword puzzle in a musicology journal, was a French contemporary of Haydn who wrote about 75 operas(!). Bizet, of course, is famous for Carmen and the Pearl Fishers, not to mention that scintillating fluffy omelet of an opera called Dr. Miracle that I directed at Northwestern University and Western Michigan University. Ivan IV does include the aria “Ouvre ton coeur” which Bizet later reused in another opera and is often performed independently with piano.

Victoria, a specialist in 18^th century vocal music, sang an aria and a duet in the Grétry. A number of student, alumni, and faculty performers brought the Bizet to life. Preceding the concert the Director of the School told the stories of the operas, much to the amusement of the audience, since they bear little relationship with the actual historical events.

The performances were delightful, especially a wonderful up and coming soprano named Nadezhda Kucher. She is a student at the Conservatory but thrillingly knocked out a couple of spectacular arias from the Bizet. She sounds like kind of a cross between Judith Blegen and Edita Gruberova. Another casting sensation was the last minute substitution of the director of the opera program for an indisposed student. His performance was vocally and dramatically commanding.

On Sunday I saw two professional opera productions. The first was a version of the Cinderella story by Soviet composer Boris Asafiev. The music was very pleasant, neo-classic stuff, almost a musical, and was intended for kids. It could easily be put on in a college opera workshop production.  This staging was presented at the Mikhailovsky Opera House, which is a beautiful quasi-rococo theatre in the heart of Saint Petersburg just off of Nevsky Prospect. The Mikhailovsky Opera and Ballet company is also known as the Mussorgsky Opera Company, apparently due to a production of Boris Godunov which was a surprise hit.

In the evening I saw two acts of Glinka’s Russlan and Lyudmila at the Mariinsky Theatre. This is really one of the seminal works of Russian opera. Following his Life of the Tsar this work solidified the notion of the viability of Russian national opera, including folk elements and popular stories—this one involving good and evil magicians and lots of magic tricks, including singers flying through the air. This performance was well sung and the sets and costumes were stunning. Surprisingly it was a co-production with the San Francisco Opera, originally directed by my old boss there, Lotfi Mansouri.

Despite the many virtues of the production, including a lyric soprano with a ravishing timbre and a big and funny comic bass playing a part once recorded by Chaliapin, after a couple of acts my capacity to sit and watch exotic operas had finally been reached. I bet you never thought that could happen, did you?

The Mariinsky Theatre

The last two days have been consumed with two things, my new Russian class and the Mariinsky Theatre. Victoria suggested that I attend the Russian class for foreigners at the Conservatory. Just getting there is a bit of a challenge. It is located in side rooms of the Conservatory Auditorium. The Auditorium is laid out like many English and European theatres; that is, to keep the hoi polloi from mingling with the elite, there are separate stairways on the ground floor to the different levels. Since the cross over is on the second floor, we have to go down the stairs to the first floor, then find another stairway up to the third.

At any rate, arriving in the class I spoke briefly with the teacher who asked me a few questions in Russian: why was I here, where am I from, do I have parents in the States. When I responded in Russian that my mother lives in Memphis, she decided that I was way ahead of the beginning class, so she shunted me over to the advanced class. This class was over my head, but I now find that with painstaking preparation (ca. 4 hours) I can look up every word in the chapter and have some idea what is going on. The class meets three days a week between two and three hours apiece.

My fellow students are all young, beautiful ballerinas and sopranos, as well as one pianist, mainly from Korea and the US.  It is nice to know a couple of people who speak English, but there is no opportunity in class of course.

After class on Thursday I bravely hopped over to the Mariinsky Theatre to buy tickets for performances of Tchaikovsky’s most famous operas, Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades. When I asked the ticket clerk if she spoke English, she said in Russian “very little.” Thereupon, I spoke a mixture of English and Russian and she spoke Russian. The critical issue is the cost of the tickets. Russian citizens and those working in Russia get a much lower rate, less than half of the ticket price for tourists. I was able to convince her that I was working at the Conservatory, even though they hadn’t yet issued me an ID card. My tickets in the upper boxes cost about $25 apiece.

The Mariinsky Theatre is ornately beautiful, reminding me of a bigger Cuvillés-Theater in Munich. At intermission you can snack on smoked salmon or caviar while waiting for the next act to begin.

Eugene Onegin was just heavenly. The production was traditional and the singers acted and sang well and looked their parts. Onegin was handsome and slender and definitely had the effete “I am just a bit too good for you” attitude that the character requires. The sets were stunning, particularly the second party scene in which 32 dancers—16 men!—filled the stage with period movement. The singers were young and filled their roles well. It was an ensemble cast; both the Onegin and the Tatyana have some international experience, but everyone did a fine job. Much to my amazement and delight, since the opera was in Russian, they had English supertitles. I found that, reading the English, I was able to make out various familiar phrases of Russian.

The Queen of Spades was also traditional, but with a higher powered cast featuring international tenor sensation Vladimir Galouzine whom I have heard at the Lyric Opera of Chicago and the Met. He is still singing brilliantly and his acting has improved; he really through himself into the part of the tortured Hermann. Another standout was the comic baritone who played the part of Tomsky, a part I could sing if only I could carry off a Russian army uniform convincingly.

There was a special thrill to seeing The Queen of Spades in that theater, where it premiered 120 years ago this year. The action also takes place in St. Petersburg in some cases in recognizable locales.

Mariinsky Theatre Official Website

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mariinsky_Theatre

Young Baritone Moroz he sang Onegin

Moroz sings Count's aria on Youtube

Galouzine sings final scene of Queen of Spades

The St. Petersburg Conservatory

My first days at the St. Petersburg Conservatory have been amazing! On Monday, I “team taught” four of Victoria Evtodieva’s students: a lyric tenor, a soubrette soprano, a full lyric mezzo (categorized by the Russian system as a dramatic soprano) and a bass. All had superb voices! They first sang a Russian piece, so I was exposed for the first time to beautiful works by Gretchaninoff, Dargomyshsky and Solofyof-Sedoy.

Then we worked on songs in English, French and German, works by Barber, Bernstein, Bizet, and Schubert, which was where my expertise was, I hope, helpful.

In the meantime, the staff of the conservatory was rushing around on my behalf, trying to arrange the required registration of my passport. One must be registered with the local authorities within three days of arriving. They are still working on a conservatory ID card for me.

I had tea later with Dmitry Chasovitin, the pro-rector of the Conservatory, who will be accompanying me in recital. He is involved in two major events at the moment, an impressive festival of performances at the Conservatory and an international conference of Conservatory administrators. We agreed that we would reconvene after the events are over next week.

Incidentally, the best deal in town is the Conservatory canteen, where I can get complete meals for just a few dollars. Fortunately pointing works there as well, no Russian needed, except for the amount due. I thought I was ordering fish in a cream sauce and ended up with liver and mayonnaise, but it’s all good.

On Tuesday a lovely young musicology student gave me a tour of SPB, expanding my circle a bit from Victoria’s tour. We crossed the Neva over to the War and Maritime museum and also strolled in the garden of Peter the Great’s winter palace, home of the Ermitage museum, which we didn’t enter. The student, whose name is Kira, has chosen a project on the musical compositions of Pauline Viardot. We had lunch in the famous literary cafe known to have been Pushkin's last cafe before getting himself killed in a duel. Dostoevsky also frequented this place. We were practically alone in the restaurant, so actually got excellent food and fine service. There is a grand piano and I understand there are musical performances at dinner time.

That evening, after a little practicing, I sat in on a rehearsal of Victoria and her husband’s baroque music group, and then attended a concert of Russian opera excerpts, performed by the conservatory orchestra and chorus with alumni guest soloists. They began with a few excerpts from Boris Godunov, and then followed with excepts from little known operas by Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Anton Rubenstein, Sergei Slonimsky, and Andrei Petrov; all of the excerpts were from operas based on the lives of various Russian Tsars. The soloists were excellent and the orchestra and chorus were outstanding. The conductor was the Rector of the Conservatory.

Afterwards, Victoria got permission to bring me to a reception for the performers with the leaders of the Conservatory and other VIPs. There was much snapping of pictures—who knows, I may be in the paper tomorrow. Let’s hope they spell my name right: Карл Ратнер.

Today, wednesday, I had the day off and tried with limited success to run some errands. In the evening I attended Victoria and her husband Vladimir's concert with their baroque music group. The program consisted of songs and instrumental works by Dowland, Byrd, and their English Late Renaissance/Early Baroque contemporaries.

Victoria sang delightfully, and Vladimir held everything together with his jocular but commanding personality/ His violin playing was filled with character and point, not to mention exquisite tone. Altogether a wonderful concert.

St. Petersburg Conservatory website translated by Google

Conservatory English site, much less extensive

The Conservatory Festival including info about the Tsar's concert

This link should include a news report about the Tsar's concert and a small video clip, followed by a commercial...just let the news report go by if you don't speak russian:
http://news.mail.ru/video/4475682/

Numerous video clips of Vladimir's group

Musica Antiqua Russica and Victoria perform Buxtehude

literary cafe

Settling in SPB

The last two days were consumed with moving and with getting to know St. Petersburg. I began with another delicious breakfast in the Moscow hotel, though this time I avoided most of the starchy items. OK, couldn’t resist the boiled potatoes, but skipped the pancakes, etc.

At 8 am my taxi was waiting and off we went. We got there in no time. I had a little problem at the ticket counter. The ticket clerk spoke no English and wanted me to go to the Cashier to pay a fee for my excess baggage. Gradually the message emerged, but at no time did he clearly indicate where the cashier was. Eventually I figured it out, however.

Arriving in St. Petersburg, I was met by my lovely colleague Victoria Evtodieva, her husband Vladimir, and their young son Fyodor. They drove me to a roomy studio apartment very close both to their home and the Conservatory. After giving me some time to unpack, Victoria took me on a walk around the neighborhood, showing me good places to shop and to eat. At the local farmers’ market she showed me how to negotiate with the merchants over the quality of the pears.  Oddly, you do not pick your own produce but ask the vendors for the quantity you want. Then when they give them to you, you have to make sure you are not getting damaged goods.

Later that night I went to the local supermarket and purchased some more groceries. The supermarket is the salvation of a person who has difficulty speaking the language. There is plenty of everything and you just put it into the basket without having to figure out the right names for things. Thrillingly, next to the supermarket is the authorized Mac dealer! Good to know in a pinch.

After a spotty night’s sleep—I was a bit too smug too soon about getting over jet lag—Victoria came over again and took me on a walking tour of the essence of St. Petersburg. We went to the Admiralty, the Neva river, the Winter Palace/Ermitage (the H is only in the French version and of course isn’t pronounced in French either), Nevsky prospect, Gastiny Dvor shopping center, and a variety of churches and cathedrals. Victoria also helped me purchase a wireless modem for the computer—instant internet access wherever you are.

She left me at home to do a little practicing and then had me over for a late evening cup of tea at her home. She has a spacious living room in which she rehearses chamber music with her colleagues. She is preparing for two concerts this week of baroque/early classical music, which is one of her specialties and that of her husband, an accomplished violinist, who performs this repertory almost exclusively.

She served me some bouillon with some nice chunks of beef added, a delicious salad, and a delicious piece of home baked apple cake. A perfect end to the day.

History of the main square near my apartment

Neva River

Enjoying Moscow

Today was truly an incredibly exciting day, beginning with one of the best breakfasts I have had in any hotel. My favorites were the vegetables, greens, slaw, beets, etc, with cold cuts and sausage and deliciously prepared kasha. (I don’t know why it never came out that way when I made it.)

Then I went right into a meeting followed by seven hours of interviews of Russian students and researchers competing for Fulbright scholarships to the United States.

These young people, the best 130 of 700 initial candidates, showed extraordinary intelligence and sheer courage. Some of them traveled thousands of miles—remember that Russia is much bigger than the United States—to undergo an interview entirely in English in which they had to explain often complex scientific projects in clear layman’s terms. Imagine having to spend 15 minutes trying to describe computer analysis of electrocardiograms in Russian clearly enough that a music teacher could understand it. Suffice it to say, that if I had had to do that to get my Fulbright, I would not be here.

At any rate it was thrilling to meet 14 of these future leaders of medicine, science, linguistics, and government. Oh, and one candidate had a project to study American marketing of funeral homes. She said she had seen every episode of Six Feet Under.

In the evening, I managed to take the Metro downtown and had a whirlwind self-led foot tour of the major sights of central Moscow: The outside of the Kremlin, Alexander Garden, State History Museum (again, only from the outside), Red Square, Lenin’s Mausoleum, St. Basil’s Cathedral, the ritzy Gum shopping center (from the inside), Revolution Square, the Bolshoi Theater, Tverskaya Street, and back to my train. As I entered the station, I waved to the apparently beautiful “Christ the Savior” Cathedral in the distance, but could not walk another step.

When I got back to the hotel, I discovered that I am allergic to the new socks I bought.

St. Basil's Cathedral

Bolshoi Theatre

First Day in Russia

Well, today I crossed the Red Sea and entered the Promised Land. The days and weeks leading up to my departure had been hectic. I gradually had to give up goal after goal and just focus on actually making it to Russia. I finally got my “diplomatic pouch” of books, music, and educational materials for the St. Petersburg Conservatory off yesterday. It won’t arrive in St. Petersburg for several weeks. I only slept a few hours the night before departure. I had to focus on going through my remaining music and papers.

The flight was relatively uneventful. I sat next to a ravishing Russian beauty, as delightful as she is lovely, and her young daughter, going home to visit the grandmother in Moscow. I tried out a few words of Russian, but we ended up speaking English most of the trip. I slept little, and eventually caved in and watched the series of movies that appeared in escalating order of violence as the night wore on. After each movie, passengers leapt from their seats to use the restrooms and to socialize noisily, so at just the point when one might roll over and go to sleep, it was impossible.

Arriving in Moscow, I had no difficulties in customs. A policeman was shocked by the amount of luggage I had for one person (two large bags, a laptop, and a small carryon of sheet music and papers), but ultimately seemed to recognize that examining my bags would be both tiresome and pointless. There are a few advantages to looking like an agreeable vanilla pudding.

Past customs there was a taxi driver with the word “Fulbright” on a piece of cardboard. Besides Russian, as it turns out, he spoke German decently and a few words of English. So we conversed in a curious mixture of the three languages. Arriving at the hotel, I had to drag my suitcases up multiple steps. No employee of this hotel spoke—or admitted to speaking—English, and indeed, the most English that escaped their lips was the price of something.

This was particularly disconcerting because all in all I saw six or seven different employees, each of which seemed to be looking for my reservation in the monitors, typed repeated entries, and then clucked over what appeared on their screens, sharing the results with their fellows and murmuring ominously.

After visits to a second office—with more typing, looking, and murmuring—and a return to the first, I was issued a room, whereupon they asked for my credit card. I tried to explain that the Fulbright organization was paying for the room. But the word “Fulbright” evoked not the slightest spark of recognition, despite the fact that there should be numerous Fulbrighters interviewing and being inverviewed at that hotel. I tried various possible Russian pronunciations—FulBRIGHT, FulBRAYT—but still nothing. Eventually they gave me my key card and indicated that we would work payment out later. As it turned out, the Fulbright organization does not use the word "Fulbright" in Russia.

I had both lunch and dinner in the hotel café. The hostess/waitress was truly welcoming and helpful. There was wireless internet in the café for ten cents a minute, but reception was spotty and somewhat difficult to get going. I had a very exotic lunch: a tongue salad (covered in mayonnaise, most of which I ladled off) with a bowl of a beef and vegetable soup. Dinner was a thoroughly delicious piece of salmon.

Ultimately as the day ended, I had not encountered a single Moscovite who spoke a whole sentence of English, including the customs official (ok, I didn’t really try her), the taxi driver, seven hotel clerks, a porter, a convenience store clerk, a newspaper vendor, nor the hostess, waitress, or cook in the restaurant. So lesson 1: The idea that English is the universal language is a MYTH.

Sheremetyevo_International_Airport

Voskhod Hotel