The Theater!

(I apologize in advance for the melodramatic tone of this entry- the theater does it to me, I swear!)

If there is one glorious thing about Saint Petersburg that stands out from all the rest, it is the beauty and accessibility of the theater. Granted, one might be more in a position to take advantage of this resource if one understood more Russian than I, but I like to think that I am simply proving to myself that superb theater transcends language. Not that I am claiming that all theater is superb. But I will continue, less digression.

This week is my theater week. I don’t mean theater in the most confined sense of the word, but instead as anything that takes place in any sort of theater-like place, including operas, the philharmonic, etc. Although we went to the philharmonic two Sundays ago, but I will discuss it anyway. So far this week there has been the opera Eugene Onegin at the Mikhailovski* Theater on Tuesday, and the operatic version of The Brothers Karamozov at the Marhinskii Theater this evening, or Wednesday. Tomorrow there is nothing, but on Friday Raskolnikov (the stage adaptation of Crime and Punishment) at Theater Starnik, and on Saturday the Nutcracker, possibly performed on ice, at the Sports Palace, where we went to watch the Ska hockey match all those weeks ago.

First, to describe the philharmonic. I must admit, as uncultured as I am the prospect of sitting in one place for hours listening to classical music didn’t quite inspire undulations of joy in my heart, but I was very very much pleasantly surprised. First of all, the surroundings are beautiful. The hall is splendidly large and sumptuously attired primarily in gold and white, with huge chandeliers providing the lighting. The subject of the night’s performance was ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Tchaikovski, a work that I had never heard before. I enjoyed most the sections in which the entire orchestra took part, grandly backed my percussion and integrated so stunningly that it was breathtaking, with one exception. The soloist for the evening was a cello-ist with one of the most arresting stage presences that I’ve ever witnessed in a musician. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, appearing on-stage in a long amber-embroidered ball-gown and poised perfectly awaiting the signal of the conductor. As soon as the music started it was as thought the audience didn’t exist, only the music, and watching her play was like watching music take form and play itself, all grace and smooth, gliding action. I have never loved a string instrument like I loved the cello as she played it, and as a past player of both the violin and the viola, this is perhaps saying something. But I never did get to the cello, and she made hers sing.

The conductor was also one of the best parts of the evening. He had a warm, slightly hear-sighted smile and his movements were masterful. The control that he had over the orchestra was remarkable; I believe that no-one’s little finger could command that sounds that his could.

So much for the philharmonic, and on to Eugene (in Russian ‘Evgenii’) Onegin. Acclaimed as the greatest work of Pushkin (and so, to Russians, the greatest work of their greatest poet), I decided to read Eugene Onegin the day that I went to see the opera, and good thing too given the Russian being sung is even harder to understand than when it is spoken. So earlier that day I sat and, in the course of approximately two hours, read the work. Originally it is in poetic form, but the translator of the edition I read sacrificed verse on the altar of lucidity and story, so while the language was poetic it was not an actual poem. It is, in fact, a very very good story and no doubt an incredible poem when in its proper form (this morning, when talking to my host mother about the performance, she recommended that I buy and read it in Russian, in order to really get it; this seems to be a common conception, and no doubt a correct one). But back to the opera. The Mikhailovski theater is perhaps the second best in St. Petersburg, and luxurious enough to be so, all classical baroque and decorated in the actual theater in primarily red and gold. The opera itself was beautifully sung, although perhaps, it being a Tuesday, the singers too a little while to get into the swing of things since the chorus seemed a little off in their first chorus; but who am I to complain? The leads where both lovely singers and good actors, which is probably more rare than it should be. And, having just read the book, it was very interesting to see where the writers of the opera took artistic license, and where they stayed almost completely true. Puskin must really have written Eugene Onegin with an opera in mind, because it fits perfectly; well, he was a romantic, after all, and ended his life in a duel.

So, that leaves the Mariinskii. The Mariinskii is glorious, and gorgeous, and has a screen on which there was printed to follow along with the singing an English translation of what was going on. I will admit that this perhaps endeared me more than is quite right to the theater, but having gone into it knowing very, very little about the plot of The Brothers Karamozov, I would have been lost without it. As it is, I was left with a strong desire to read the book, the opera was that intriguing. As to the physical appearance of the theater, it is more winding and sectioned up than the Mikhailovski, but interesting because of it. Then again, we were only on the first floor of the Mikhailovski, and in the first tier of the marinskii. This is, I’m convinced now, the only way to watch opera, ideally with the whole box dedicated to your party. Why anyone would ever choose to sit on the ground when it is possible to sit above, as though suspended and able to gaze out at the stage with virtually no interruption is impossible to guess. And the seats are upholstered with blue! Actually, I believe that they are like that everywhere, and overall the Mariinskii is the blue version of the Mikhailovski’s red interior, but more lush in every possible way. The Mariinskii, by the way, is THE theater in St. Petersburg, or rather THE ballet at least. And deservedly so. The production merited the grand surroundings, and that really is saying something. Masterfully put together, very well acted for the most part and completely well sung and played, seamlessly running- I could go on, but bore everyone to tears. Suffice to say that it was fantastic, and leave it at that.

We shall see how the rest of theater week goes. The problem with seeing this much theater is that it only makes me want to see more, which both my budget and studying habits probably can’t quite stand.

On an entirely different note, it has finally stopped raining! For the past few days there hasn’t been a drop, although I always expect it to arrive, and the world is drying up. Gone the moats to cross and lakes to leap! Walking home late from the theater is infinitely more enjoyable when done under dark velvety skies streaked with cloud than through drizzle.

* Please excuse any and all typos. I could spell most of this in Russian, but English transliteration fails to inspire correct spelling or a great desire for accuracy in me.