Marlies'Artbeat: Two One-Act Operas by Tchaikovsky and Bartok. Double the Thrill at Met in HD

Of course you’ve never seen Tchaikovky’s Iolanta before. This, his last opera, premiered in 1822, but made its Met debut only last month. When it originally was commissioned in Russia, it was paired with his ballet The Nutcracker.

Now it is double billed with Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle, which was finished in 1918 and premiered at the Met in 1974. Then it was juxtaposed with Puccini’s comic Gianni Schicchi.

The pairings are very different now, because the Polish producer, Mariusz Trelinski, sees both as psychologically connected entities. He pictures them as reverse dramas, one “going from captive darkness into light, the other from freedom into dark captivity.” During a very enlightening interview with the HD host, Joyce DiDonato, he explained that he sees both female protagonists as the same woman, at different stages of her life – both ensnared in willing subjection.

Tchaikovsky’s Princess Iolanta is blind. Her royal father, Rene, keeps her hidden away, confined so she will never be aware that she is blind. At first we accept this as a remarkably sensitive show of love for her. But is this all there is to this possibly psycho-sexual domination?

With complicated twists of events, her awareness and love for, Vaudemont, a knightly suitor, allows her to gain sight. But she ends up not certain that this is really what she wants. Without a true will of her own, she is psychologically almost ready to accept the will of her controlling father again.

Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle is a suspense horror opera, a rarely existing genre, here ripe for the talents of Trelinski with his cinematic background. And he uses it with all the tricks a stage production can offer: strobe lighting, lots of thunder and lightning, gushing water, implements of torture, blood and a gaping open grave. You get the un-pretty picture!

The opera is based on a scary fairytale by famed Charles Perrault, with the libretto by Bela Balazs. It tells the story of Judith, who is in love with the troubled Bluebeard, following -- nay -- obsessively pursuing his dominating her move into his mysterious castle. This is although he is suspected of having murdered several of his wives. It is not clear whether Judith and Bluebeard are married. It is only clear that she desperately wants his love and seeks his domination.

But once in the dark, threatening castle, she demands to see what is in seven rooms with locked doors. As the doors to one horror room after another are opened, Bluebeard keeps on asking whether she is afraid. With ill-disguised dread, she always denies it.

(We are given a “titillating” extra thrill, which has this particularly glamorous singer emerging from a bathtub in the nude. You wonder where this insistence to have nudity in opera comes from. Is it really necessary to attract younger audiences?)

The last door opens to show Bluebeard’s former wives, in a sort of perpetual, spooky, half-death state. Judith joins them, captivated forever.

Although partnered in here in Trelinski’s film-noir approach, which is a joint production with the Polish Teatr Wielki and the Met, the two operas could hardly be different in musical terms.

The Tchaikovsky is lush with lyrical, beautifully orchestrated, Romantic melody; the Bartok has unsettling dissonance, but hardly as challenging as his work usually entails. Incidentally, the Iolanta, evidently frequently performed in Russia, was sung in its native tongue, as was Bluebeard in its native Hungarian.

The vocal performances were outstanding throughout. The amazing Anna Netrebko, as usual, electrafied with her rich sound and persuasive acting, as the beautiful Iolanta. (It was she, who insisted that her gaining eyesight be attributed to nature and science, as it is performed in modern Russia, rather than caused by the deity, as the original libretto, by Thaikovsky’s brother, Modest, suggested.  Iolanta is based on a play: King Rene’s Daughter, by a Danish playwright Henrik Herta [1797-1870.] )

The controlling king here was chillingly performed by the Russian bass, Ilya Bannik. His right hand was gloved as to suggest a suspiciously caused prothesis. Wouldn’t you know, that same glove appears as Bluebeard’s right hand as well. To me that was a rather clumsy way to underscore the connection the otherwise innovative direction conveys.

Piotr Beczala, the Polish tenor who has sung many leading roles at the Met since 2006, rang true as the love-smitten Vaudemont. He was vocally well partnered by his friend, Duke Robert, the Russian baritone Aleksei Markov. The mysterious Moorish doctor, who achieves the actual transformation, was well sung and acted by Elchin Azizov, an able Russian baritone, who made his debut at the Met this season.

The 2-cast performers for Bluebeard were the lithe German soprano, Nadja Michael, and Russian bass Mikhail Petrenko whom you might remember in many roles since his joining the Met in 2002. Nadja Michael is to be recalled as the fiery Lady Macbeth, in the Met’s production of 2012.

All fine singers were part of a very interesting, if somewhat disturbing afternoon with Valery Gergiev in the pit. This conductor has really introduced us to an amazing amount of hitherto rarely performed Russian works. The wonderful Met orchestra responded to his every nuance with its usual skill.

All around, it was an operatic adventure, this double bill. Most of us will not easily forget, set-designer Boris Kudlicka’s surrealistic habitats or their often ghoulish video projections on them.

The whole production was a sort of opera cinema at the actual cinema.

Don’t let anybody scare you from catching the encore, on Wednesday, Feb. 18th, at 6:30 P.M.