The new season at Milan's Teatro alla Scala opened last night with Dmitri Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. For his final opening night as Music Director, Riccardo Chailly selected an opera he profoundly loves, one outside the traditional Italian repertoire, considered ‘difficult’, unfamiliar to many of the gala opening night audience. He delivered an unequivocal triumph.
Shostakovich's score is incredibly modern and expressive. The orchestra narrates a gruesome tale of sex and murder, where nothing is softened – no sexual assault is toned down, no violence sugar-coated. There are no hints or suggestions, only the raw, ugly truth, spectacularly rendered in music. Chailly guided his orchestra on a journey that explored every orchestral colour and powerfully conveyed each emotion, embracing the vulgar and kitschy elements inherent in the score without allowing them to dominate. The woodwinds voiced mockery and the grotesque, the brass served as the heavy artillery of the most potent emotions and the percussion embodied the inexorability of death. It was an emotionally powerful experience.
Set in 1860 and based on a story by Nikolai Leskov, the opera centres on Katerina, the deeply unfulfilled wife of a wealthy flour merchant. Isolated, illiterate and trapped in a barren marriage, she begins a turbulent affair with a labourer named Sergey. Their raw sexual passion quickly escalates into madness, leading to the murder of her husband and her father-in-law. Arrested and exiled to a Siberian labour camp, Katerina ultimately commits suicide. The story offers no redemption, portraying a love that is purely destructive and a world devoid of hope.
Vasily Barkhatov relocates the action to the 1950s, elevating Katerina’s social standing: she resides in a stately palace adorned with elegant Art Deco details, designed by Zinovy Margolin. This immediately raises the question of how such an upper class woman could be illiterate and utterly devoid of interests. The entire narrative is framed as a flashback: Sergey and Katerina have been arrested and the events are either ‘remembered’ and depicted on stage or are re-enacted for the police. Through the imposition of these heavy filters, Barkhatov opts to censor – or sanitise – the most scandalous elements of the plot while emphasising, or even inventing, moments that align more comfortably with contemporary sensibilities. This censorship mirrors, in a different zeitgeist, exactly what Stalin had sought to do.
Thus, during the sexual encounter between Katerina and Sergey we don’t witness a woman who, after being assaulted, falls in love – a problematic concept in our times, and for good reason. Instead, we see a clownish reenactment performed by two handcuffed individuals under the watchful eyes of policemen taking notes and photographs (but Shostakovich’s pornophony tells us exactly what’s happening). However, the production does include two attempted rapes of Katerina, by her husband and her father-in-law, absent from the original libretto, which frame her killings of them with a sense of justice. It is also puzzling to see Katerina setting herself on fire rather than drowning in a cold lake – as if this opera needs any additional theatrical flourishes.
Despite these choices, the visuals are striking, the stage direction precise and effective. And the cast delivered engaging, convincing acting performances, resulting in an emotionally compelling telling of the story. Sara Jakubiak delivered an exceptional performance as Katerina. Her dramatic soprano possesses a warm, beautiful colour, and her technical command carried her through the harsh, gruelling, emotionally punishing role with apparent ease. Her high notes remained consistently covered, never resorting to strain, and her projection was spectacular, cutting through even the most overwhelming of Shostakovich's fortissimos. Her interpretation was richly nuanced, conveying Katerina's raw desire, homicidal fury, fleeting tenderness for Sergey and, ultimately, her devastating despair; a masterful performance.
All other characters are comparatively one-dimensional. Alexander Roslavets, with his beautiful bass voice, brought to life the vicious father-in-law Boris, whose lust for Katerina manifests as a desire to control her. He avoided caricature through his strong vocal technique. Sergey was Najmiddin Mavlyanov, whose powerful, muscular tenor suited the testosterone-fuelled brute perfectly. While his high notes occasionally carried a nasal quality, his performance remained remarkable. Alexander Kravets delivered an enjoyable turn as the drunken peasant, a classic buffo character from Russian folklore. His light tenor handled the high notes with ease, and he navigated the character's hiccups and antics with a touch of elegance.
Evgeny Akimov sang Zinovy, Katerina’s husband, with a clear and powerful tenor. Oleg Budaratskiy delivered a strong Police Inspector, his bass smooth and elegant, while Ekaterina Sannikova brought a spirited Aksinya to life with a brilliant, bright soprano. Elena Maximova portrayed Sonyetka, Katerina’s rival in Siberia; her mezzo-soprano had a metallic, edgy quality perfectly suited to the character.
A resounding success, met with cheers for all and a powerful, affectionate ovation for Maestro Chailly.
