SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Glinka, Stravinsky: Soloists, Chorus of the Mariinsky Theater, Valery Gergiev (conductor), Kirov Orchestra, Carnegie Hall, 1.12.2007 (BH)

Glinka: Ruslan and Ludmilla, Act I (1836-1842)
Stravinsky: Le sacre du printemps (1911-1913)

Svetozar, Prince of Kiev: Mikhail Kit
Ludmilla, His Daughter: Liudmila Dudinova
Ruslan, an Oriental Prince: Vadim Kravets
Ratmir: Zlata Bulycheva
Farlaf, a Warrior: Alexei Tanovitski
Bayan, a Bard: Evgeny Akimov


I have never heard the Overture to Ruslan and Ludmilla played as blindingly fast as Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra at Carnegie Hall last Saturday night.  (If someone knows a competitive version, please e-mail me.)  The score is filled with shockingly merry runs that require great agility even at a more normal pace.  It was hard to imagine that the musicians could even keep up with the blitz, but they more than succeeded and to immediate applause, a breathless introduction to the rich, throaty choral sound that flooded in afterward.

As the Bayan who begins the tale, Evgeny Akimov has a charmingly retro voice, befitting the telling of a fairy tale, with the Kirov’s piano and harp adding to the atmosphere.  Based on a work by Alexander Pushkin, Glinka’s opera begins with two suitors (Farlaf and Ratmir) wooing Ludmilla, who remains committed to Ruslan.  After she is kidnapped, her father decides to award her hand in marriage to whomever finds her.  After four long acts, she is finally reunited with her beloved Ruslan.  But meanwhile, her journey contains some highly listenable and entertaining music.  At roughly 45 minutes, Act I makes a perfect concert half, especially when delivered with the force Gergiev summoned from his excellent singers and an even more astonishing chorus.  During the first fifteen minutes, the opera contains a gorgeous, poignant quintet with Farlaf (Alexei Tanovitski), Ratmir (Zlata Bulycheva) and Svetozar (Mikhail Kit) joined by the title couple, joyously sung by Vadim Kravets and Liudmila Dudinova. 

But I kept marveling at the chorus, which wasn’t large but seemed able to punch out phrases that fairly seared the back of the hall.  One long sequence, beginning with Health and glory to the radiant prince, May he be crowned with success in battle and in peace! and punctuated by the Kirov’s tireless triangle player, was overwhelming in its impact.  In general, the percussion section had some plum moments, such as the huge gong used to depict claps of thunder when Ludmilla is abducted.

One of my favorite versions of Stravinsky’s Le sacre du printemps blazed into Carnegie Hall a couple of years ago with Pierre Boulez and the London Symphony Orchestra.  If Boulez’s view of the score sees the sacrifice carried out with cold, ruthless efficiency, Gergiev offers nightmares that last for months.  I am in awe of Boulez’s implacability here, but just as admiring of Gergiev’s sheer terror.  Standing on the floor without a podium, Gergiev seemed at one with his musicians, delivering clutch-your-throat drama.  Metallic strings, almost-too-shrill woodwinds, braying brass, and the percussion section throbbing its guts out (especially the orchestra’s tympani player)—it was all hard to resist.

Some details surely didn’t please purists, such as the very final chord, which followed a seemingly interminable pause of some three or four seconds.  Then Gergiev let fly a fluttered arpeggio, the chord cascading down in a chaotic heap.  I actually found it quite effective, but it is like no other ending to the work I have ever heard.

Gergiev and his tireless musicians regularly offer encores—a tradition I love—and here they pulled out Liadov’s Baba-Yaga, which begins forcefully but ends with a demure whistle.  And as if to say, “Hey, come back tomorrow,” they all but attacked Rimsky-Korsakov’s ferocious “Dance of the Tumblers” from The Snow Maiden.  (For further insight, please refer to the first sentence of this article.)

Bruce Hodges