FROM AROUND THE WORLD: MUNICH.(Review)

What if stage directors could be sued for damage inflicted on works of music? In hundreds of European theaters, opera is viewed as a living art form and the too-traditional is decried from all sides. The modern director is condemned to walk a tightrope between statement and overstatement, between re-examination and self-indulgence. The result can be an overwhelming theatrical experience, but it is more often a waste of time and opportunity.

At Bavarian State Opera, director David Alden offered a daring, at times gripping interpretation of Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades (seen opening night, May 21), in which everything centers around societal repression. The dreariness of life can only be mitigated here by sarcasm, drink, per-version and games of chance; Lisa is ripe for rebellion. Alden set the production in post-glasnost Russia, although sets, costumes and action appeared to be rooted in the early 1970s. Indeed, his vision works best in scenes -- such as the confrontation between Gherman and Lisa, in Act I, Scene 3, and the Countess's death scene -- that can be detached from time and place because of strong interpersonal relationships and overwhelming emotion. Where the libretto makes specific reference to time and place, Alden often ignores the text. The first scene, for example, is supposed to take place outside, but Alden placed it inside what appeared to be an office building or hotel (set design by Paul Steinberg).

Without question, the low point of the evening was the pastoral in the ball scene, where Tchekalinsky (in a pink tutu) pranced and Polina/Daphne (in a Russian Army officer's uniform) puffed cigars, while women in sheep costumes abused men in boxer shorts. Alden hammered home Lisa's ambivalent sensual longings as Polina's jacket kept opening to reveal her cleavage during their duet. Subsequently, the Empress Catherine, an old, elegantly dressed lady, stepped onto the bar and exposed herself. The booing after this scene was as loud as it was understandable.

Cards were tossed in all directions in this production, but no one really played. There was no river. Instead we saw a department-store window, in which one mannequin stood, dressed in a bridal gown. In anguish, Lisa broke the window and slit her wrists on the shattered glass. Effective, but immediately, Tchekalinsky began cackling, as a bridge into the final scene, so that the audience was not even allowed a moment to reflect upon the heroine's suicide.

The staginess eventually took its toll on the musical side of the performance. Jun Markl conducted passionately, letting the music surge, sometimes letting the brass oversurge. Some ensembles were sloppy, but that may correct itself after the performers grow more accustomed to the constant action onstage.

Katarina Dalayman was an outstanding Lisa; her pure, evenly produced voice and committed acting left little to be desired -- until her final scene, where she simply ran out of vocal wherewithal. Neither stormy nor ardent as Gherman, Robert Dean Smith moved as if in a trance. His vocal interpretation was most impressive, ...