LOS ANGELES - With recent rapidly changing travel and performance schedule
changes, it's entirely possible to drive 400 miles and then realize that
tonight's LA Opera performance of "The Queen of Spades" does not feature
Placido Domingo.

"Oh, darn!" a mild-mannered opera fan would respond to the situation, were
it not for the fact that an Armenian tenor, Gegam Grigorian, sang simply
the best Herman I ever heard, and I come from a place where "Pique Dame"
is part of the standard repertory.  (Having seen dozens of productions, I
would take issue with David Gregson's conclusion in the program notes that
frequent criticism of the Tchaikovsky opus notwithstanding, it is "one of
the greatest of all operas.")

Grigorian is a wonder, even in the middle of a sensational cast:  he is
the perfect "Russian tenor," without any of the usual drawbacks of that
species.  None of the driven, high-pitched, squeezed head voice from
this tenor - it's all grounded, secure chest voice, every note dead on,
Grigorian is singing from inside the music.  And, what he has over Domingo
is that the sound - along with the diction, of course - is authentically
Russian, right as rain.  A tremendous performance, well worth the 400
miles...  even 800, figuring on a roundtrip.

The entire cast is stunning, the uniformly excellent vocal performances
making this a must-hear event, in spite of another overblown physical
production, even worse than Maximilan Schell's frontal assault on
"Lohengrin" I saw the night before.  As for the musical direction,
Gergiev-protege Gianandrea Noseda struggled at first - balance faltering,
tempi in need of adjustment - but this fine orchestra managed to right
things even without having the guiding hand of Kent Nagano as was the case
with the Wagner.

The cast is so fine that singers performing secondary roles could
do very well if they were to lead the production.  Suzanne Poretsky
(Pauline/Daphnis) is a mezzo of great, attractive presence, on her way to
top roles.  Ditto for Irina Mataeva (Chloe).  A rare, special quality in
Poretsky's singing is how "clean" everything is - the vocal line, diction,
acting - from this thrilling young talent.

The star of today, Galina Gorchakova as Lisa, has one of the most powerful
voices around, but she is more of a matter of individual taste, and while
I found her vocal performance most impressive (her acting is still on the
Novosibirsk High level), at times it has a grainy, shrouded quality.  A
formidable, if not particularly likeable singer.  Another famous Russian
singer I happen to have the same misgiving about - especially in his
frequent Verdi roles - performed flawlessly today, the best I've ever heard
him:  Sergei Leiferkus' Tomsky was a role-defining performance.  Vladimir
Chernov, as Prince Yeletsky, was also at his best, singing and acting in an
effortless manner I have not heard and seen from him before.  Seeing Elena
Obraztsova as the Countess - a role usually signifying a farewell round for
a great singer - was a moving experience.

Other cast members and William Vendice's chorus (especially the men) were
all at their best, even in face of trying conditions.  Director/designer
Gottfried Pilz seems to suffer from Hollywood Envy, and he forced this
small-scale opera into a huge, ostentatious, three-ring spectacle.

To begin with, he took the good old idea of a steeply raked stage and
turned it...  sideways!  When upstage is 6-7 feet above downstage, there
are some, many, good reasons for that, enhancing the audience's ability
to see clearly.  Pilz created a set that covers the Pavilion's huge stage
as an enormous wedge, rising sideways - with a door and chandelier set an
angle.

There is a strip of empty space all the way downstage, with an overturned
chair.  The chair is moved beetween acts, but it remains overturned and
attention-diverting.  What does it all mean? Pilz doesn't say.  Perhaps he
was trying to catch up with Schell's totem pole swan.  Guess you need ideas
like this to make the big bucks.

(Watching the chorus made to sing and dance at an impossible angle reminded
me of a recent Berlin "Tristan," where Harry Kupfer thought it would be
cute to have the principals climb all over a giant structure while singing
the love duet.  I wanted to throttle Kupfer then, just as I thirsted for
Pilz's blood today.  Singers are not to be abused like this.)

To keep the Giant Wedge busy, Pilz has a double chorus of 80 and a large
children's chorus march around (while singing, of course), play with
umbrellas, wear masks, make a general nuisance of themselves.  What took
the cake was squeezing a chorus of 40 into the Countess' bedroom!  Ready
when you are, Mr.  DeMille.  Not trusting the audience's ability to figure
out the story from the supertitles (which are too small and too high in
the Music Center anyway), Pilz had the words "three cards" projected onto
the wall...  in Russian yet.  Is it more diverting or meaningless - you'll
be the judge.  Clearly, however, this kind of thoughtless, disturbing
(mis)direction is very much in vogue:  Pilz has major assignments coming
up in LA next year and in 2003, in New York, Dresden and Munich.  Singers
in those houses better start training for singing on the Wedge.

Janos Gereben/SF
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