It seems remarkable that, after 
          cancelling a performance of Glinka’s A Life for the Tsar at short 
          notice due to illness of two main cast members, the Kirov and Gergiev 
          could pull out a performance of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin as 
          powerful and as taut as this one. The orchestral playing was first class, 
          and the overall impression was that of a superb opera company unified 
          in its Tchaikovskian vision. Having heard Part Two of Berlioz’ Trojans 
          (‘The Trojans at Carthage’) at the Coliseum very recently (just five 
          days before), the impact of the difference in standards and musical 
          vision between the two opera companies was huge.
        
        The Kirov’s Chorus, in the event, 
          almost upstaged the principals. From the very first (singing as peasants 
          returning from the fields), one was made startlingly aware not only 
          of the beauty of the sound and the sheer confidence, but also of their 
          affinity for this music: they were completely at home, and remained 
          so throughout the opera. The element of discipline extended to the orchestra. 
          Technical excellence is to be taken for granted, but the way Gergiev 
          teased, caressed and encouraged them to give their best meant that the 
          privileged audience was able to be transported straight to the heart 
          of Tchaikovsky.
        
        The singers had a lot to live 
          up to, however, and things here were more mixed. Baritone Vladimir Moroz, 
          taking the part of the titluar hero, began strongly showing off his 
          big, smooth voice. Unfortunately, as the evening went on, he became 
          less and less convincing. Even in the first act, when Tatiana pursues 
          him about the letter she has written, he sounded outclassed, and by 
          the end of the opera, when he is reduced to ever more ardent pleading, 
          it was difficult to believe his stated emotions. 
        
        The fact is that, without exception, 
          the women soloists outclassed the male. From first to last, Irina Mataeva’s 
          Tatiana was deeply touching, and what is more she looked the part: youthful 
          and beautiful. Her Letter Scene was yet another highlight, touching 
          in the extreme. Time and time again Moroz’ Onegin was found wanting. 
          And just as Mateava eclipsed Moroz, so Ekaterina Semunchuk’s creamy 
          contralto (Olga) upstaged Daniil Shtoda’s forced tenor as Lensky (whose 
          confrontation with Onegin in Act 2 Scene 1 was also less than dramatically 
          gripping).
        
        Of the remaining roles, Leonid 
          Liubavin’s Triquet was strong and full of timbre. Mikhail Kit as Gremin 
          was simply superb as he described Tatiana as his salvation in Act 3 
          Scene 1. His great bass really seemed to enter into Gremin’s character.
        
        The true stars of the evening, 
          though, were the Kirov Orchestra and Gergiev. Gergiev encouraged the 
          orchestra to give their all, something they seemed to do willingly. 
          The ball scene (Act 3 Scene 1) was lavishly impressive, an aural picture 
          of pure elegance; the dawn opening of the dual scene was stormily dramatic. 
          The rich string sound at the beginning of the second act (double-basses 
          as rich and echt-Russian as one could desire) silenced criticism. 
          With an orchestra so strong in all departments how can a reviewer single 
          out individuals? Maybe the solo clarinettist’s sensitivity in Act 3 
          Scene 1…
        
        This was a very special evening 
          that reminded one of Gergiev’s magnetism and charisma, the excellence 
          of his forces and, of course, of the sheer genius Tchaikovsky displayed 
          in the writing of Eugene Onegin.
        
        Colin Clarke