Sopranon Eva-Maria Westbroek

When we think of Lady Macbeth, we think of William Shakespeare's famous character whose ambitions lead her to incite her husband to commit murder so he can become a king. When, in the end of this tragedy, Lady Macbeth sinks into madness, we feel little or no pity for her, depending perhaps on how the actress playing her chooses to portray her. There is quite a different feeling toward Katarina Lvovna Izmailova, Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. One does pity her even if one does not condone her choice of achieving her goal. Why? Because, while she also incites to murder, she does not do so out of ambition, but to escape the loneliness imposed on her as a woman of 'position' in rural czarist Russia and its stifling atmosphere; she wants to escape a loveless marriage, she wants to escape boredom and thinks she can do this in the arms of Sergey, a worker employed by her husband and father-in-law.

This tragic figure, the center of Shostakovich only opera (aside from a satirical The Nose, based on Nikolai Gogol's story of that name), first made her appearance in an 1865 short story by Nikolai Leskov. Many consider him one of Russia's most Russian writers. Shostakovich, through his music and through the libretto, written by Alexander Preis, ensures that despite her misdeeds, we feel some compassion for her and her final fate. He took a story from the past, critical of czarist society, and put it on stage, not realizing he had opened a hornet's nest.

Ledi Makbet Mtsenskovo Uyesda (Russian title) was first performed in Leningrad on January 22, 1934 with the approval of Soviet authorities and received considerable critical acclaim. Two years later Stalin came to see the opera and within days it was condemned as undesirable and withdrawn from the stage. Stalin, aside from disliking the music, most likely saw similarities between himself and the autocratic father-in-law, and he probably also must have recognized that those condemned to the Gulag of Siberia in czarist times fared no worse than in his own period.

Some might say there is no resemblance between Lady Macbeth and Katerina, aside from the murders they inspire or commit, or between Shakespeare's play and Shostakovich's opera. But there are connections, not least of which is that neither woman in the end achieves what she had hoped for. On a minor note, even a ghost appears in the opera, that of the first victim, Boris, Katerina's vicious and lecherous father-in-law. The apparition's appearance gives Katerina a sense of foreboding, but one she does not heed. Remember that Lady Macbeth also saw foreboding apparitions.

Opus Arte's 2-set DVD of the opera was filmed in Amsterdam in June of 2006. The work is performed by De Nederlandse Opera with the Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Mariss Jansons. It is stage directed by Martin Kušej, has a set by Martin Zehetgruber, and costumes by Heide Kastler.

Musically, this is an outstanding production. There are some very good close-ups of Jansons and the orchestra that emphasize the musical splendor of this score, as well as its raucous, crude nature. Jansons understands the the source of the score and the characters as portrayed by Shostakovich's driving music. One does not even have to look at the screen to know when lust rears its head or when disaster is about to strike. Shostakovich produced throbbing rhythms that are musical verismo spelled large, and the Dutch orchestra, under Jansons' baton, is a powerful instrument to bring this realism alive.

Zehetgruber's set, literally a glass cage, emphasizes the isolation Katerina feels from those around her. It is simple and stark, with none of the over-stuffed furnishings one expects from a Russian household, pre-revolutionary or contemporary. Katerina's wealth is expressed, Imelda Marcos-like, through countless shoes placed along the far glass wall of this social 'cage' in which the young woman finds herself. Here the visual perception is well placed and is the one positive aspect of the otherwise unappealing concept created by the director.

Kastler's costumes pick up on Kušej's direction. The director, set and costume designers are Austrian and have worked together in many other productions. The result is a production that is imaginative and yet often distasteful. For one, the costumes often consist merely of unappetizing underwear on both men and women. Košej, in his foreword to the DVD refers to Eros and sexuality, of the opposing poles of orgasm and murder. But this opera is not about Eros. It is about crude, animalistic lust, and also about unexpressed love, for Katerina does love the cynical Sergey.

The whole production unravels for me in the second scene of Act 1, when Sergey and his fellow workers decide to tease Aksinya, one of the women employed by the Izmailovs. There is nothing teasing about Košej's interpretation of Shostakovich's work. We are treated to what may be one of the most horrifying scenes of humiliation that a woman can be subjected to on stage. British soprano Carole Wilson has her dress torn off her by the male chorus and supernumeraries, then her underwear and bra. The men kneed her exposed breasts and touch her in ways that must have been not just uncomfortable, but wholly unpleasant. Then a rape scene follows in which Sergey is the perpetrator. Neither the lyrics imply rape here nor the music. It does suggest raucous play, lust, and crude lecherousness, but that is all. Why, then, did Košej resort to such extremes? Does one have to appeal to the prurient nature of opera goers in Europe to get them to see an opera of such stature, or does he feel that such violence parading as sex is avant-garde? Me thinks not!

The orgasmic coupling between Katerina (Dutch soprano Eva-Maria Westbroek) and Sergey (British heroic tenor Christopher Ventris) is, of course, supported by the music, yet even here Košej's direction goes far beyond the expected realm of realistic staging as the composer's music implies. The coupling is pornographic when it need not be. Perhaps this production of the opera, in which Shostakovich had wanted to show the low position women had held in czarist Russia, is so visually unappetizing, excessively lewd and sexually tawdry because the characters have been placed in a modern, unspecified setting, a place of 'Nowhere'.

The liner notes tell us that Košej's " . . . interpretation forswears any Russian ambiance; he stages the music itself, concentrating on the 'endless sensuality that exists within this piece' . . ." Perhaps the director is unaware that there is a vast difference between lewdness, crude gropings and sensuality. We are also told, "Although he [Košej] resists traditional production clichés, he places people on the stage who could appear in the headlines of the gutter press of any period."

One can only say that this is pretentious twaddle, and misguided interpretation. If this is not Russia, then where do the final scenes in this opera take place? Where are the characters heading? Why do the men wear ill-fitting, unsexy y-fronts and repelling undershirts, and the women panties, slips, bras and what-have-you, none of which seem to do anything for their figures (male or female alike). This attire fails to clarify the scenes, which actually are supposed to be set on a prison train to Siberia - shiver, shiver!. One does not expect Hollywood glitter from these fairly loathsome characters, but one does expect that they arouse revulsion through their actions, not through their costumes.

On hindsight, Shostakovich has a message in his opera, one that can be applied even now to his homeland. The Soviet state may have disintegrated, but most Russians still have failed to advance much beyond the czarist serfdom of this tale. Mother Russia has a way of not changing even while she appears to do so on the surface. Košej should have played on that rather than obscure the reality of this work.

Both Wilson and Westbroek give excellent performances, each shining in their acting and singing. It has to be said that Westbroek at times literally blisters the senses vocally. Ventris has a firm, secure voice that is capable of singing both high and low notes with equal power, giving the role of Sergey the emphasis it requires. Russian Baritone Vladimir Vaneev has a strong voice and is brutal in his expression, as is required of Boris, while tenor Ludovic Ludha is suitably dividend, sniffling and down-cast as Katerina's husband, Zinovy.

Lastly one wants to mention contralto Lani Poulson as Sonyetka, who appears in the final scenes of the production. Sonyetka is a temptress on this train to nowhere, who takes Sergey away from Katerina. Poulson gives an excellent performance, equaling that of Westbroek right to the final tragic moments.

From a musical point of view I give this DVD four out of five stars. Even the camera work is deserving of such a rating. The direction and staging, however, deserve no more than two-and-a-half stars.