Marlies’Artbeat: Anna Netrebko Triumphs Again in Met’s Majestic “Eugene Onegin,” in HD-at-the- Movies.

When last we, of the Live-at-the-Met-in-HD-at-the-Movies audience, saw the imposing production of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin, in October of 2013, it was haunted my one disaster after another. It started with medical problems preventing the famed producer/director Deborah Warner from coming to the United States at all. After other technical and personnel problems, it faced hundreds of pickets outside the opera house. They were backed by 9000 petitions asking the Met to dedicate the production to “opposition to Vladimir Putin’s position on gay rights,” and pilloried the Russian replacement conductor, Valery Gergiev, as reflecting Putin’s view.

But “the show went on.” The mighty Met always does.

The current production is faring far better. The only singer repeating a performance from 2013, is Anna Netrebko herself. She is complemented by a sublime cast headed by the Swedish baritone, Peter Mattei, in the title role.

Frankly, Netrebko still the world’s reigning super-diva needs no accomplices. During an intermission interview, last time and this time, too, she charmingly explained that she has known the lengthy “letter scene” from the verse/novel by Alenandre Pushkin (1799-1837) by heart, ever-since she was a little girl. (Seems in parts of Russia, it was standard for school children to memorize the entire poem/novel on which the opera is based.)

Had she simply sung the single “letter aria,” it would have been enough for the appreciative audience at the actual Met. The HD movie audience also applauded her quite a few times. A fine actress, Netrebko’s development of Tatiana, from the naïve overly romantic teenager, to the majestic figure in the last act, is ample proof of her acting talent. Having sung over 150 performances in 19 roles at the Met, she invariably sells out the house.

Netrebko with her frequent pianissimo approach to an aria, before escalating into what may not be quite as luscious as ten years ago, but still absolutely glorious sound, captures the listener, even if the first act of this opera by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) can be quite a bore. But by the second act, the opera soars forth, and she, and the cast, have their pick at a swift-moving tale that sweeps one along.

The story concerns a self-centered, haughty hero, who rejects the love of a romantic young girl in a condescending fashion, and foolishly causes a duel which results in the death of his closest friend. Years later, when he finds the girl has become a dazzling, worldly woman, with standing in society even higher than his, he is rejected by her, and faces a dismal, lonely future.

Tchaikovsky wrote most of the libretto himself with the help of his brother, Modest, but also credits a writer/actor friend, Konstantin Shilovsky. The opera actually premiered as a student performance in Moscow in 1879, prior to the “professional” premiere at the Bolshoi in 1881. Its reviews were tepid. Tchaikovsky once complained the reception for his works was unenthused in Russia and Europe; that his greatest successes were in England and America. To this day, his instrumental works are an absolute necessity in every American orchestra’s repertory. (By now this is probably true in classical circles all over the world.)

His operas somewhat lag behind. The Met premiered Eugene Onegin in 1920, giving it 8 performances over two seasons, with it being sung in Italian! It did not reappear until 1957, sung in English with George London as the lead. It finally was offered in Russian, starring Sherill Milnes, in 1977. Since then it has been a steady presence, even opening the season in 2013-14 with Netrebko, of course.

This year’s revival was supposed to star the great Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky in the title role, which he had sung often at the Met so successfully. Unfortunately the famous white-maned idol has had to leave the singing stage for good, for medical reasons.

Peter Mattei, Hvorostovsky’s replacement, was an excellent choice for the part. You may recall his extraordinary Amfortas in the HD performance of Parsifal for instance. Stately, vocally marvelously endowed, the Swedish baritone’s acting made the ill-fated part totally believable.

Lenski, his dueling victim -- the Russian tenor Alexey Dolgov -- made the most of his doltish part. (It was interesting that the skillfully staged duel used rifles as the weapons. Undoubtedly this is accurate for the time.)

The part of Olga,Tatiana’s spirited sister, and the reason for the duel, was filled by the Russian mezzo-soprano Elena Maximova. She was vibrantly right for the part.

Stefan Kocan, the Slovakian bass, turned his one aria, (as the Prince Gremin, Tatiana’s husband,) into a masterstroke. The audience let him know what he achieved, with thunderous, knowing applause.

And it showed its enthusiastic approval for the rest of the impressive ensemble. The Met is really delivering these days, from the excellent casting of lesser parts, the outstanding chorus, to the ballet, which is so much in rustic and elegantly glittering use in this beautifully staged Onegin.

The tempi set by the British conductor Robin Ticciati had the Met orchestra tackle this performance with its usual brilliance. Eugene Onegin may not be one of the world’s greatest operas, but when so well performed, it is a vocal and visual pleasure.

The other super-diva, our own Renee Fleming, was the Met’s gracious host for this performance. (We already mourn her decision to retire her role as the Marschallin, in Der Ronsenkavalier, the next and last HD performance of the season.)

Encores of Onegin are scheduled for Wednesday Evening, April 26th, and Thursday Matinee, April 27th, 2017, in selected Fathom Theaters.

P.S. During a most entertaining intermission feature, we learned from Kyna Leski, the daughter of Tad Leski, the designer of the Met’s Lincoln Center home, that the famous crystal chandeliers were born by accident.

Her father, a member of the architectural firm Harrison and Abramovitz, was rushing off to show the design of the performance hall, when he unintentionally splattered a huge drop of white paint on the drawing. Dabbing it to remove some of the paint, created an even larger splotch, which looked like a possible source of light. The clever designer gave it spokes and the idea was born. The resultant, gloriously brilliant chandeliers, throughout the house, were the gift of the Republic of Austria, in gratitude for America’s aid in resuscitating the European economy after WWII.