Last night saw the UK première of Alexander Raskatov's new opera A Dog's Heart, performed by ENO together with theatre company Complicite. The opera, based on a 1925 novella by Russian satirist Mikhail Bulgakov, tells the tale of Sharik, a stray dog who is given the testicles and pituitary gland of a human by an eminent surgeon, the Professor. The transplant is intended as an experiment in rejuvenation, but to everyone's astonishment, the treatment has a different effect: the good dog Sharik turns into a dreadful human, Poligraf Poligrafovich Sharikov.
Bulgakov's novella is thoroughly misanthropic, and the opera follows it faithfully. The frailties and uglinesses of every character are mercilessly explored, from the ghastly Sharikov to the Professor, his servants and the Bolshevik house committee of their apartment block. No-one comes out of it with much credit (except perhaps the dog), and the depiction of the Bolsheviks (including a party boss who in this production looks like a tall version of Lenin) got the novella banned in the Soviet union until 1987.
The drama and the staging are memorable. There are so many clever and startling visual effects in the setting and the movement of the characters that I'm not even going to attempt to list them: the production has to be seen to be believed. But the undoubted hero of the piece is Sharik himself. He is played by a puppet created by puppeteers Blind Summit Theatre in the style of a Giacometti sculpture of a dog; he moves around the stage, leaps, cowers and yaps with the assistance of a team of three handlers, with two singers to represent the voices of the "nice" and "nasty" parts of his character: the counter tenor Andrew Watts voices the more human "nice" Sharik, while the howls and yelps of his "nasty" voice are sung through a megaphone by Elena Vassilieva, who also sings the part of Darya Petrovna the cook. It is quite extraordinary that when you see Sharik, you are actually looking at a dog-sized puppet being followed around by three hulking great men and two singers - but such is the illusion that all you see is a dog. And I'll give a mention to just two of the effects: when Sharik thinks he is dying (before he is rescued by the Professor), there is a superb depiction of his life floating before his eyes, and the scene where Sharikov chases a cat around the apartment was a piece of sheer, undiluted theatrical magic.