Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk
Nadine Secunde, Christopher Ventris, Francisco Vas, Anatoli Kotcherga, Graham Clark, Symphony Orchestra and Chorus of the Gran Teatre del Liceu, Barcelona, Chamber Chorus of the Palau de la Música Catalana, Alexander Anissimov (Musical Director), Stein Winge (Stage Director).
EMI Classics 7243 5 99730 9 8. DVD-Video, region-free NTSC, PCM Stereo/Dolby Digital 5.1/DTS5. 2-disc set TT 187.15 min.
Recorded live at the Gran Teatre del Liceu, Barcelona, May 2002.
Performed in Russian with subtitles in English, French, German, Italian, Spanish and Catalan.

Rostropovich's 1978 recording of Lady Macbeth (EMI Classics 7243 567776 2 or Angel Records 7243 567779 2 7; reviewed in DSCH No. 18) is used as the touchstone in many discussions of this opera. As when your favourite novel is made into a film, sometimes a director's realisation does not always live up to your personal visualisations of the characters and settings. This problem is compounded with an opera, if what you hear in a live performance also differs significantly from a well-loved recording. Rostropovich fans will therefore be horrified to discover that this Barcelona production has a running time (3 hours and 7 minutes) almost half an hour longer than the Rostropovich recording (even allowing for the footage of the Liceu auditorium in the opening tracks on both DVDs and an extra interlude, discussed below; EMI's promotional showreels are not included in the advertised running time). This is mostly due to Anissimov's general tendency for slower tempos, but Winge also adds in moments of unaccompanied action at the end of scenes, as for example when the female workers gossip about the state of Katerina's bed and what she may have been up to after the infamous sex scene, or the prolonged goose-stepping of the Chief of Police at the end of Scene 8. However the singing and acting from the main cast is excellent and the chorus well choreographed and disciplined in their diction.

Stein Winge's production was originally conceived for a joint production at the Théâtre de la Monnaie, Brussels, and Barcelona's Gran Teatro del Liceu in 1999, with a nearly identical main cast. Like many other directors faced with staging Lady Macbeth, Winge chose to ignore the 19th-century provincial Russia setting of the original, preferring instead a non-specific 20th-century Russia. The set conception, by Benoit Dugardyn, could not be more different from the huge, multi-level mechanical revolve in David Pountney's production for the English National Orchestra from 1987. There is a single minimalist set, a sort of gigantic barn with a sloping roof and a large, central skylight. After the interval the roof space is transformed to reveal transparent corrugated panels, which only really become fully visible in the final act. This large unfurnished space is used as bedroom, parlour, the Ismailov yard, police barracks, wedding reception and prison trail to Siberia. The few bits of furniture, such as Katerina's double bed, are wheeled on and off as required.

The action takes place mostly at stage level, or on top of the available furnishings, such as the bed or the trestle tables at the wedding reception. The extremes of the stage space are also used: rather than entering through Katerina's bedroom door, Sergei enters dramatically via the skylight, descending a (very) long ladder; the cellar, in which Zinovy's corpse is hidden and from which it is ultimately retrieved by the Shabby Peasant, is accessed through a trap door in the stage. The costumes, by Jorge Jara, are a mix of non-specific fashions, but it is hard for it not to seem like Stalinist Russia, especially with the police and prison guard uniforms.

It was Shostakovich's intention that we should sympathise with Katerina, and not view her as a cold-blooded murderess. This he achieved through musical differentiation; Katerina is given the most lyrical, humanising music. In Scene 5, for example, to illustrate the tenderness between Katerina and Sergei before their reverie is shattered by the appearance of Boris Ismailov's ghost, Shostakovich has a brief section of pure Mahlerian lushness, scored for strings and harp in the manner of the Adagietto from his Fifth Symphony. Thanks to EMI's showreel, the first item of which is Simon Rattle and the Berlin Symphony Orchestra performing that very piece, it is easy to quickly compare the sonorities.

With the exception of the convicts in the final act, all the other characters, both individuals and groups, are dehumanised and made to seem grotesque through parodistic music. Winge's stage direction deliberately over-exaggerates the grotesqueness of those characters in a position of authority over Katerina. Boris Ismailov's lecherousness is increased manifold (see below); the priest's drunken and debauched behaviour at the wedding feast ('urinating' alcohol over the Shabby Peasant and fondling the bride) makes him an obvious clone of Rasputin; the goose-stepping and arm-waving antics of the Chief of Police are reminiscent of Monty Python and the Ministry of Silly Walks.

The role of the Shabby Peasant is given special prominence and he appears in more scenes than is normal. For example, he appears out of Katerina's wardrobe at the end of the first interlude, as if he had been spying on her and Boris, and also at the wedding feast, where he sits in front of the trestle tables, his presence probably unnoticed by the bridal pair but very obvious to the audience. This over-exposure sometimes seems like an unnecessary plot-spoiler, as if Winge is constantly interrupting the text and dramatic flow to highlight the harbinger of Katerina's ultimate fate.

At the end of the first Scene, when Zinovy leaves to fix the burst mill dam, Boris takes charge of the farewell between Zinovy and Katerina, convincing his son that Katerina should swear an oath of fidelity to him. He then forces Katerina to kneel before Zinovy and show distress at his departure, which should be the pinnacle of her public humiliation in front of all the workers. Winge's direction completely changes this outcome and how we view Katerina, undermining Shostakovich's intentions. Firstly, Katerina swears an oath and uses the opportunity to throw Zinovy on the bed and embarrass him with passionate kisses. Zinovy is obviously scared by her overt sexuality. She falls to her knees as Boris orders, but not to say farewell to her husband: she pretends to perform oral sex on her father-in-law, humiliating him and her husband in front of all the workers. Thus aroused, and with his son safely out of the way, Boris Ismailov makes manifest his own lecherous intentions towards Katerina in the first orchestral interlude, between Scenes 1 and 2. Katerina is at first amused, but is then repulsed by his fumbling attempts to embrace her and runs away. All this happens before Boris actually sings about his lust for Katerina at the beginning of Act II (Scene 4), providing a sort of pre-history. To make Boris more grotesque by increasing his lecherousness is one thing, but in making Katerina partly responsible for arousing his desire, she becomes a less sympathetic character.

The five extended orchestral interludes, which separate those scenes not followed immediately by an act division, must cause nightmares for stage directors with regard to what should happen on stage whilst the orchestra comes to the fore. Although these interludes can have a practical purpose to cover the gaps between scene changes, Winge made things difficult for himself by having such a minimalist set design with few props to manoeuvre, so instead let his imagination run wild. The first two are used to illustrate Katerina's sexuality and growing desire for a lover. Whereas Pountney used the first interlude as part of Aksinya's rape in Scene 2, under Winge's direction Boris clumsily tries to seduce Katerina on her infamous bed. The second interlude is even more bizarre: Katerina sits on the stage, smiling to herself about her recent wrestling bout with Sergei, and paints her toenails red. Red, the colour of blood and aroused sexual organs, is given prominence elsewhere, notably in Katerina's wedding attire.

Not satisfied with five orchestral interludes, Winge has inserted a sixth before the beginning of Act IV, presumably to allow time for the chorus to change out of their colourful wedding clothes and into their drab convict garb. Two sections from the first movement of Shostakovich's Sixth Symphony (about 42 bars, just under 4 minutes worth) have been adapted and stitched together to cover these changes, whilst on stage the Shabby Peasant performs a slow, despairing mime. As the final act begins, he descends through the trap door into the Ismailov's cellar to drown his sorrows in more alcohol. For those who may be interested in exactly what music was borrowed, the details are as follows: from figure 12 to figure 15 (omitting trumpet solo at figure 12 and cor anglais solo at figure 14), cutting to the flute solo at figure 23 and ending at figure 27. Musically the join works because it begins and ends on the F sharp which ended the preceding scene; also the opening motif of the flute solo, taken up by muted first violins and later the timpani, has a rhythm ( ) which to me seems to be plaintively calling out 'Ka-te-ri-na', but maybe that is too fanciful. I'm in two minds about this interpolation: it could be argued that adapting the structure of the opera to fit the stage direction, and not the other way round, smacks of the tail wagging the dog, but it was probably a quicker and smoother transition than a second formal interval if extra time at this point was logistically essential, and not just a directorial whim to fulfil the characterisation of the Shabby Peasant.

Winge's approach towards the scenes of sex and violence in the opera is generally graphic and realistic. Sergei is literally caught with his trousers down during the rape of Aksinya when Katerina enters the mill yard; Katerina and Sergei make good use of the billowing white sheets, the bed and the ladder in their sex scene; the flogging of Sergei, Zinovy beating Katerina with Sergei's belt and the murder of Zinovy are all brutally portrayed.

Controversially, Winge has revised the final act of violence. The setting for Act IV is supposed to be the banks of a river, with the prisoners trudging on foot. Winge has the prisoners enter and leave the stage crammed in wheel-less cattle trucks, manned by prison guards, as if transported by train. Although this is effective, it is not clear exactly what the stage space is meant to suggest when the prisoners get out, as the corrugated roof of the stage set implies an indoor rather than an outdoor setting. Katerina, lacking a convenient river in which to drown herself and Sonyetka, suffocates Sonyetka with a plastic carrier bag. This results in a change to the sergeant's words from "They've both drowned. We can't save them, the current's far too strong!" to "The slut has suffocated her, we can't save her. She's dead". Compared to Rostropovich's recording, Sonyetka's death is somehow less palpably horrifying, perhaps because her death is more instantaneous and she only manages one scream instead of three.

Nonetheless Winge's ending does have dramatic power: as the other convicts sing their final lament, "Ah, steppes, you are so endless", they glide away silently in their cattle trucks, leaving Katerina alone (to die from hunger and hypothermia presumably), handcuffed to the corpse of Sonyetka. Anissimov takes the final chorus at a significantly slower speed than Rostropovich, but this only serves to increase its impact and solemnity; the chorus are particularly moving in this number, with superb diction and articulation. Although the ending is unexpected, the speed at which Katerina pounces on Sonyetka with the carrier bag, animal-like in pursuance of her prey, is true to Leskov's original descriptions of Katerina's murders, performed "in a single movement". Reversing the usual habit of making many stage tragedies end in darkness, the stage lighting is increased during the final bar's crescendo to emphasise Katerina's isolation on the empty stage. Shostakovich's ending is very abrupt; even at Anissimov's stately tempo, there is too little time to contemplate Katerina's fate, as the dramatic tension generated by this increase in light and volume is immediately broken by a sudden plunge into darkness and a rushed curtain call.

Seated in the theatre auditorium, an audience can take in the whole scale of the stage space in a way that is lost to those viewing a filmed version from the comfort of their living room. We are at the mercy of the camera crew and their choice of what to highlight via close-ups and different camera angles. Fortunately there were no overly close shots of tonsils, although we do get rather too intimate with the soft palette of the Shabby Peasant in his final mime. The filming of the police barracks, trying to capture the rows of beds and policemen, was perhaps the most jarring and amateurish. I felt as if some of the shots were taken from the back of the orchestra pit, panning right along the front of the stage. Viewing Shapiro's film of Katerina Ismailova (Lenfilm, 1966), I was struck by the oppressive nature of the two main location settings, the "middle of nowhere" provincial merchant's house and yard, and the bleak snow-covered steppes of Siberia. In both, a vast emptiness emanated from the surrounding land and sky. Personally, I would have liked more opportunities to view the whole stage in Winge's production, to judge if his large empty stage set had a similarly oppressive effect.

Essayist Teresa Lloret describes Stein Winge's stage direction as "indifferent to the opera's social and political background", and writes that he "considers the work a profound meditation on the human condition". Winge has attempted to give the opera a universal, Shakespearean quality, made more relevant to our contemporary experiences by removing it from the particular confines of 19th-century Russian provincial life. Kozintsev successfully used this approach in his film of King Lear (reviewed below), which similarly had settings, costumes and props from a non-specific ancient time.

Compared to buying an opera on CD, where you expect to get a substantial booklet containing all the cast and production details, a libretto in various languages and a detailed plot synopsis, it is hard not to feel short-changed by this DVD set. There is a choice of subtitles in six European languages and an option for no subtitles at all for those who find them more annoying than helpful, but no printed libretto. Neither is there any information regarding who actually provided the translations used in the subtitles, but it appears that EMI re-used Joan Pemberton Smith's translation from Rostropovich's recording. Maybe I am being too greedy and should be satisfied with being able to see the production and have a running translation displayed, but I do like to browse through a libretto. The glossy single-sheet booklet only lists the cast, directors, act/scene divisions as they appear on the disc menus and those involved in the production of the DVD. The second disc also has an electronic booklet in pdf format, which can be accessed via any computer with a DVD-ROM drive and Adobe Acrobat Reader 6.0. This contains a brief essay by Teresa Lloret (available in all the languages of the subtitles, except Italian for some reason), but only has a few sentences about Stein Winge's stage direction and the plot, in addition to the usual regurgitated history of the 1936 Pravda article, "Chaos instead of music". For purposes of navigating through the DVDs, the interactive menu language is in English only.

Playing the DVDs on good equipment reveals superb visual quality, and I didn't experience any problems with the sound quality. Whether you like what you see and hear is another matter entirely. I would strongly advise you to give this interpretation a chance and judge for yourself.

Fiona Ford
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DSCH No. 22.
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