Valeri Alexejev

One of the chief pleasures of this live production of Otello from the Berlin Staatsoper Unter den Linden is Daniel Barenboim's conducting. From the opening gale-force blast of storm music, through the crunching and stabbing accompaniment of Iago's "Credo" to the shimmering strings of Desdemona's "Willow Song", he doesn't miss a trick. Everything works at the highest pitch of intensity and the orchestra sticks to his beat like glue. It's a necessary compensation for the shortcomings of the staging: the stolid chorus remains unperturbed by the storm and is directed to perform with unison movements; the acting (apart from Valeri Alexejev) is non-committal, and Alexandre Tarta's video direction somewhat flat-footed. She doesn't manage to make much small-screen sense of an impenetrably murky opening scene, for example, and doesn't seem fond of reaction shots.

Kent Nagano superbly masters the challenges presented by this score, shapes the dynamics with subtle intensity, and casts the score in a mellow glow. As Marfa, the spurned lover of Ivan Khovansky‘s son Andrei, Doris Soffel unfolds such a rich palette of sonorities, from the pathos of the lower ranges to shaded discant heights, that “one is tempted to speak of a Russian mezzo”. The final chorus, which Mussorgsky did not compose, is played in the orchestrally transparent version of Igor Stravinsky – the third great Russian composer who contributed to making “Khovanshchina“ a timeless, gripping stage work. With his stripped-down sets and historicising costumes, director Dmitri Tcherniakov, one of the new voices of contemporary Russian theatre, builds a bridge to the political present. A lesson in history and music!

One of Modest Mussorgsky's great talents was his unique ability to transpose words, psychological states, and even physical movements, into music. Kent Nagano rises magnificently to the challenges presented by this score. And Dmitri Tcherniakov's fascinating production emphasizes the timeless quality of this sombre tale of intrigue and power struggles reminiscent of a Greek tragedy, reflecting Mussorgsky's own maxim: "The past in the present - that is my task."