Janacek's Katya Kabanova in London March 2010 (4)

Katya Kabanova – English National Opera, The London Coliseum
Music and Libretto: Leos Janacek

Director: David Alden
Conductor: Mark Wigglesworth
Reviewer: Honour Bayes


A stern female face stares at us from behind a vast church like window, her fingers entwined as if in prayer. The poster for the English National Opera’s premier of Leos Janacek’s Katya Kabanova says strength, passion, power. But whilst these things may be prevalent in Janacek’s opera (although more so in other characters than in the highly strung eponymous heroine) Kabanova is at its heart a piece full of fragile and impossible longing.

Based on Ostrovsky’s play The Thunderstorm, Katya Kabanova is the story of a young woman trapped in a marriage to a weak man and his petrifying (and this is not hyperbole with the indomitable Susan Bickley in the role) matriarchal mother. Frighteningly oppressed and deeply religious Katya cannot countenance her feelings towards another man, Boris, but she cannot control them either and after they are fatefully consummated, her love ends in tragedy.

Written as one of a number of works inspired by Janacek’s great obsession with Kamila Stosslova, a married and seemingly indifferent woman, his ‘need for a great love’ is tragically apparent in every haunting melody and vengeful rhythm.

The score is deeply romantic with soaring love duets and epic monologues that pitch the soul on a tonal journey to hell and back again; Patricia Racette as Katya is luminous throughout but particularly transcendent when describing the higher ecstasies of her moments in prayer or describing the flowers growing on her grave.

Mingled with this religious and emotive effulgence Janacek’s trademark colloquial style punches through the libretto in sung dialogue that is admirably direct and realistic. It is this tempering of both sense and sensibility that gives Katya Kabanova its greatest strength, creating a work that incorporates both emotional melodrama and pragmatic realism in characters that are utterly sympathetic even as they are deeply flawed.

David Alden’s clean cut production deals with these complexities with a stylish economy which covers a deep well of feeling, utilising Charles Edwards’s simple but dynamic diagonal canvas to create stage pictures full of placing and shadow play; Adam Silverman’s bold design providing slice like squares of light. Their aesthetic evokes the foreboding beauty of an Edvard Munch painting; it is a sparse world, a cold environment offering no solace to our lovers.

Into this oppressive mentality a breath of fresh air is offered in the sparrow like performances of Anna Grevelius and Alfie Boe as Varvara and Kudriash, the young lovers who hint at a more hopeful future for this constricting society. Impish but vocally assured their chemistry is light hearted and full of playful vitality.

But whilst the separate components of this production are all impressive, their combination is rather cobbled together at present and a general hesitancy seems to hang about the piece. At 1 hour 40 minutes it rattles along at a great pace with each pause like a slightly apologetic mistake and each intermezzi appearing vaguely determined. With a material so forcefully defined this company need to create a stronger pedestal from which to display it; if they can manage to do so this will be a compelling production for all, both opera lovers and novices alike.