St. Petersburg.(Boris Godunov)

A few years ago, Valery Gergiev and the Mariinsky Theater recorded both versions of Boris Godunov, released in a single boxed set [Philips 462 230-2]. Inasmuch as the company's 1997 production of the opera followed the original 1869 text, one might have thought that Gergiev would shift to Mussorgsky's 1872 revision for the latest staging, perhaps even offering audiences a chance to sample both versions in the theater just as they can at home. Besides, with so many fine mezzos at the Mariinsky, it seems a shame not to do the Polish act, conceived for the revision. Nevertheless, it was the 1869 version that one heard on May 12 at the premiere of a new coproduction with La Scala, where it bowed a month earlier. At least the new effort, with sets by George Tsypin, constituted a striking improvement visually over its predecessor. Tsypin's dominant image was the onion dome, often seen on a stage bathed in red, thanks to Gelb Filshtinsky's imaginative lighting. But the domes were rendered grotesquely, as if they were corroded by underwater barnacles or even represented creatures from the deep. They contributed to a mood of institutional oppression that weighed on Boris and the populace alike. Boris's elaborate coronation robe (costumes were by Tatiana Noginova) had him enclosed in a mini-cage, while the populace in the first scene was jerked about by cable tethers. Viktor Kramer's straightforward staging took second place to Tsypin's scenic effects, particularly in Boris's death scene, when the structure above began closing in on the tsar like a giant spider.

The spectacle took the focus away from the tender singing of Yevgeny Nikitin's extraordinarily youthful Boris. Who can remember a Boris under forty? The lyrical beauty of Nikitin's sound, as well as his flowing blond hair, set him apart from the usual stern-voiced authority figure. The production was not conceived with him in mind--Ferruccio Furlanetto was Boris at La Scala--but Nikitin lent the tsar a vulnerability that fit the concept ideally. Still, he needed more help from Kramer, for his characterization is not yet fully formed. Gennady Bezzubenkov was a stirring, rich-voiced Pimen, and Vassily Gerello's gorgeous singing brought his Shchelkalov close to perfection. The young bass Alexei Tanovitsky was a highly promising Varlaam, the veteran Constantin Pluzhnikov a slimy Shuisky. Yuri Alexeyev sang the Pretender clearly but with some strain, and Yevgeny Akimov, in sweet voice, delivered the Simpleton's lines to telling effect. Gergiev interpolated the Hostess's inn-scene song from the 1872 version, which Lyubov Sokolova sang with lustful vigor. As before, Gergiev played the seven scenes of the original version in a two-hour-and-twenty-minute span unbroken by intermission. He responded cogently to the raw realism of Mussorgsky's first thoughts, and the dark colors of his orchestra proved eminently right for the task.

The new Boris was seen again during the Stars of the White Nights Festival in June, but otherwise the festival introduced no new productions. Operatic offerings were exclusively Russian works in familiar productions, a curious limitation for an international house but one that allowed for a genuine novelty: Prokofiev's last completed opera, The Story of ...