DSCH DVD Review - Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, opus 29; Katerina Izmailova, opus 114

DSCH Journal

DSCH DVD Review

Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk
Stage Director: Martin Kušej; TV Director: Thomas Grimm.
Cast: Katerina – Eva-Maria Westbroek; Sergey – Christopher Ventris; Aksinya – Carole Wilson; Zinovy – Ludovít Ludha; Boris – Vladimir Vaneev; Shabby Peasant: Alexandre Kravets; Sonyetka – Lani Poulson.
Mariss Jansons, Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Chorus of De Nederlandse Opera.
Opus Arte OA 0965 D. DVD-Video, All Regions, NTSC, Colour, Aspect ratio 1.78:1 (anamorphic). 2-DVD set TT 236 min.
Recorded live at the Het Muziektheater, Amsterdam, June 2006.
Sound: Russian DTS surround sound/LPCM stereo.
Subtitles: English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch.
Bonus features: Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk – The Tragedy of Katerina Ismailova, a documentary by Reiner E. Moritz, including interviews with Martin Kušej, Mariss Jansons and leading members of the cast; illustrated synopsis; cast gallery.

Katerina Izmailova
Directed by Mikhail Shapiro
Cast (singer): Katerina – Galina Vishnevskaya; Sergei – Artem Inotemstev (V. Tretyak); Zinovy – Nikolai Boyarsky (V. Radziyevsky); Boris – Alexander Sokolov (A. Vedernikov); Shabby Peasant – Roman Tkachuk (S. Strezhnev); Sonetka – Tatyana Gavrilova (V. Reka).
Konstantin Simeonov, Chorus and Orchestra of the Shevchenko Opera and Ballet Theatre, Kiev.
Lenfilm 1966.
Decca 074 3137. DVD-Video, All Regions, NTSC, Colour, Aspect ratio 2.35:1 (anamorphic). TT 112 min.
Sound: Russian 2.0 enhanced mono.
Subtitles: English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Chinese.
Bonus features: Shostakovich chronology; excerpt from Cheryom-ushki; excerpt from Shostakovich against Stalin.

Can there be another opera whose fortunes swung so vertiginously? The ‘palpable hit’ was banned before re-emerging triumphant (but re-edited) 25 years later, then to find its original form re-vindicated. And a work so misunderstood? The ‘two versions’ that we know actually shatter into many more: during its initial runs Shostakovich made many minor changes to realise the effects he wanted; then came the re-editing (or bowdlerisation). Even its title is not so simple, as the first Leningrad and Moscow runs used the names Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and Katerina Izmailova, respectively, though the latter was revived for the re-edited version: and this is not even to step into the notoriously treacherous waters of the opera’s meaning and any moral position that we might take with regard to it.

Now we have four DVDs of various incarnations available to study such questions. DSCH Journal has already reviewed Petr Weigl’s film (Image Entertainment ID 5655 CLDVD; see DSCH No. 15) and the production from Barcelona (EMI 7243 5 99730 9 8; see DSCH No. 22), though neither sticks strictly to either of Shostakovich’s versions. Now we turn our attention to a stage production of the original version from De Nederlandse Opera and Mikhail Shapiro’s 1966 film of the revision.

Actually, large parts of Lady Macbeth remained relatively untouched in the Katerina Izmailova revision, but since Shostakovich’s death, the mania for ‘originals’ has generally cast Katerina aside. Of course, in 1966 Shapiro had no such choice and used the expurgated version: Shostakovich himself was embargoing revivals of the original version. More importantly, Shapiro cuts the film back to 112 minutes.

Shapiro’s film lacks the punch of more recent, graphic versions, but it makes up in other ways, primarily by being unashamedly filmic, using superimpositions, split-screens and other effects throughout the film to escape any staginess. So, at the beginning, superimposed scenes of farm life and luboks depict Katerina’s boredom. Later Boris conjures up fantasies of his younger self seducing her, and she is repaid for murder with a superimposed gigantic ghost. When Sergei is whipped, a split-screen prevents her from rescuing him and another ironically counterpoints the stately wedding procession with the drunk’s frantic race to the police station. The most shocking moment is when Katerina hands over her stocking and Sergei glances directly into the camera, challenging us to agree with his assessment of her as a fun-to-dupe idiot.

Over forty years old, the film looks good in this restoration: ironically the Sovcolor stock (actually a development of the Agfa technology that was ‘acquired’ after the war) has an aged look that complements the setting. The occasional slight colour shifts are not too disturbing. The soundtrack is also very acceptable – remember this is not the later EMI recording that Weigl uses. Certainly there’s no evidence to support Testimony’s comment; ‘you can’t hear the orchestra at all.’ The main downside is some inaccurate lip-synching and the fact that, indoor or out, the acoustic hardly changes; both problems with the original film rather than the transfer.

The disc is subtitled in English (using Joan Pemberton Smith’s translation), French, German, Italian, Spanish and Chinese and the extras are an 8-page text chronology of Shostakovich, a clip from the forthcoming DVD of Cheryomushki and a clip from The War Symphonies. There exist, of course, stills and even some footage of the film being made, so it is a shame that these couldn’t be included, for completeness’ sake, and it might have been interesting to hear what Vishnevskaya thinks about it now. The trilingual (English, French and German) booklet includes a synopsis keyed to the 32 chapters, and an essay by Andrew Huth that stays away from the speculative.

Apart from the visuals, there are a couple of other reasons why you would want this DVD. Of course, Shostakovich was involved, though it’s hard to believe he was happy for one cut to be the great passacaglia. There is also Vishnevskaya’s performance (she is the only person to both act and sing). Apart from Sergei, everyone is a bit one-dimensional, though occasionally to good comic effect. Zinovy is a sniveller; even as he is threatening to beat Katerina he picks up his cup of tea, and when Boris realises that Sergei has beaten him to Katerina, a delightfully pained expression comes over his face. Overall this disc goes beyond being a ‘historic document’ that we might watch for some academic value, and is an enjoyable (if less than full-on) presentation of the story.

Shostakovich’s phrase ‘tragedy-satire’ sums up his interweaving of horror and comedy in Lady Macbeth. For De Nederlandse Opera, Martin Kušej, describing his production as ‘orgasm and murder’, existentially links sex and power. The glass-cage set makes us feel like voyeurs or punters at a clip joint (no chance to expose the cast’s corporeality is lost), and Aksinya’s rape is as revolting as it should be (this is astonishingly tame in Shapiro’s film). But the stroboscopic sex-scene prudishly distances us, rather than forcing us uncomfortably to witness the heroes’ animalism, and the interludes cut away to the conductor, breaking the mood; in the theatre they simply brought down the curtain, leaving us to contemplate what we had just witnessed.

Mingling the horror and comedy of this extraordinary work is hard, and many productions miss the balance (the Royal Opera’s, recently screened on the UK TV channel BBC4 is one such). Here the down-trousered drunk begs for more slapstick staggering as, accompanied by delirious music, he prepares to run to the police to denounce the murderers, whereas the Priest, rather than becoming increasingly ridiculous, is drunk from the start, leaving the character with nowhere to go. Most seriously, Katerina does not commit suicide but is lynched by her fellow prisoners. Other than these production problems, musically we are on firmer ground; conductor Mariss Jansons is an old Shostakovich hand and the cast are excellent, particularly the platinum-dyed Eva-Marie Westbroek.

The two discs are generously chaptered, though the break – at Jansons’ somewhat inexplicable insistence – is just into Act 3. The extras include a cast gallery, an illustrated synopsis (for those too impatient to watch the whole thing?) and, most importantly, a 65-minute documentary in which cast and crew discuss the production. Kušej’s comments are particularly valuable; whether or not you agree with him, his rationale is clearly laid out. The generously illustrated booklet includes a note by Kušej and a longer essay by DVD producer Reiner E Moritz.

None of the four available DVDs are in fact exact rivals. Shapiro’s stands alone as the revised version, with Galina Vishnevskaya’s Katerina as compelling a performance as you could hope to see. Of course, much of it is by necessity understated; an adjective that could never be applied to the Dutch production, whose explicitness is a counterweight to Shapiro’s veiled quality.

The ardent will want all four, but these two top the list, with Weigl as an interesting extra and the Barcelona production the most dispensable. Sadly, licensing problems mean that the BBC broadcast of English National Opera’s aptly hallucinogenic production (set in a semi-abattoir) is unlikely to appear.

John Riley
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