The soul of a nation vividly encapsulated in a tsar’s breakdown
Modest Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov (1873)
This magnificent historical epic is the cornerstone of the Russian operatic repertory – the embodiment of the soul of a nation and its tragedy, expressed though music of rough-hewn grandeur and visceral energy.
Plot
The nobleman Boris Godunov is crowned Tsar – a position he has reached by secretly arranging the murder of the legitimate heir, the boy Dmitri. His crime haunts him, but he vows to rule wisely. No body was ever found, according to the monk Pimen, who is chronicling the history of Russia in a monastery, so he inspires the ambitious novice Grigori to present himself to the world as Dmitri. To gain support for the cause, Grigori travels as Dmitri to Poland, where he falls in love with the noblewoman Marina. Her Jesuit confessor Rangoni persuades her to use his infatuation to spread Catholicism to Russia. Terrified to the point of insanity by visions of the murdered Dmitri, Boris summons his son and as he lies dying, implores him to attend to the well-being of Russia. Grigori-dmitri marches with his army towards Moscow. A holy fool laments the wretchedness of Mother Russia and foretells more woe to come.
Background
Drawing its text from a five-act drama by Alexander Pushkin and loosely based on events that occurred between 1598 and 1605 after the demise of Ivan the Terrible, this opera had a long and complex gestation.
Modest Mussorgsky was a civil servant with a drink problem, pursuing music as a private enthusiasm at a time when it was impossible in Russia to make a career as an opera composer. Operatic culture there was dominated by imports, and the management of the Mariinsky Theatre in St Petersburg rejected Mussorgsky’s first sevenscene version of Boris Godunov as too original and unlike the fashionable models of Verdi or Gounod. Over the next few years, he revised and expanded the opera, changing the scene ordering, adding the Polish act and the role of Marina to balance what was otherwise a cast of mostly male soloists. This version was successfully staged in 1874.
After Mussorgsky’s death in 1881, Rimsky-korsakov produced two editions of the opera, softening Mussorgsky’s rough edges and providing a smoother orchestration (an aspect of composition at which Mussorgsky was not conventionally adept). It was in the second of Rimsky’s editions that Diaghilev brought the opera to Paris and London during the Edwardian era, with Feodor Chaliapin in the title
It is the chorus, representing the Russian people, which dominates
role – performances that established the opera’s popularity in the west.
Rimsky’s alterations have now fallen from favour as a misrepresentation of the raw barbaric splendour of Mussorgsky’s intentions, to be largely replaced by an edition more respectful of the original by the British musicologist and conductor, David Lloyd-jones. There have also been several revivals of Mussorgsky’s first version of 1869: this has the advantage of being shorter and cheaper to stage, but it involves the sacrifice of some of Mussorgsky’s finest music.
What makes it so great?
From the opera’s arresting opening scene, in which the police taunt and goad the anxious proletariat of Moscow, to the Holy Fool’s closing lament, Mussorgsky is working through the simplest of musical means. The orchestration is sparse, the harmony unsubtle and almost entirely free of counterpoint; there are few extensive or hummable melodies (though it is peppered with some wonderful folk tunes, and the “Slava” national anthem at Boris’ coronation). Yet every note of the vocal line is vivid and subtly inflected – this is a drama told through music, and it is one in which moments of silence are richly eloquent. Also notable is Mussorgsky’s habit of ending scenes on a fade-out rather than a crashing final cadence.
Boris is the focus, a tragic figure whose psychological breakdown is vividly communicated, but it is the chorus, representing the Russian people, which dominates the opera to an unprecedented extent – something that would later be influential on operas such as Britten’s Peter Grimes.
Recordings
Top of my list is an electrically vivid recording on which Claudio Abbado conducts the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and a superb cast using the Lloyd-jones edition (Sony); for those who prefer Rimsky-korsakov’s less abrasive orchestration and harmonies, a 1962 recording conducted by André Cluytens with the imperious Boris Christoff in the title role can be recommended (EMI Classics). Recordings from the pre-lp era of Feodor Chaliapin singing highlights from the opera have great interest, even if they communicate little sense of his personal charisma (Naxos).
On DVD, there are three strong options. Masterly in both its filmic fluency and richness of atmosphere, Andrei Tarkovsky’s production was first staged at Covent Garden in 1983. Seven years later, it transferred to what was then the Kirov (now Mariinsky) Opera in St Petersburg, where it was filmed. The British bass Robert Lloyd sang and acted the title role nobly in both sets of performances; Valery Gergiev conducts a rawly exciting interpretation (Philips).
Persuasively updated to the corruption and intrigue of Putin’s Kremlin, Calixto Bieito’s Munich production offers a gripping theatrical experience, with a fascinating performance by Alexander Tsymbalyuk as Boris at its centre (Bel Air). Andrei Konchalovsky takes a more conventional approach in a handsome “period” production from Turin (Opus Arte).