Quantcast
Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 4232

Eugene Onegin review – lovestruck and snowblind in St Petersburg

Barbican, London
Rimas Tuminas’s production, though witty and full of memorable, inventive imagery, misses some of Pushkin’s deft lightness

Although Pushkin’s novel in verse has yielded a famous opera and ballet, it has rarely been dramatised. Watching this production, conceived and directed by Rimas Tuminas for the Vakhtangov State Academic Theatre of Russia, I began to understand why. It is, as Pushkin’s biographer TJ Binyon points out, a work of extraordinary literariness: what you end up with on stage, for all Tuminas’s inventiveness, feels like an illustration of a great poem, rather than its essence. The basic story is well known: the lovestruck Tatyana, having been spurned by the Byronic dandy of the title, in turn rejects him when she becomes a married St Petersburg beauty. Tuminas wittily frames the action inside a ballet-school, makes imaginative use of a vast, shifting mirror, and has two actors playing the older and younger Onegin and Lensky, the poet he kills in a duel. Tuminas also creates a series of unforgettable images. The hopelessly smitten Tatyana pounds the pillows of her bed with the frenzied ardour of Shakespeare’s Juliet. Her passage to St Petersburg is accompanied by a blinding flurry of snow. Best of all is the sight of her as a society hostess whose captive conformity is echoed by six white-gowned chorines on swings. Freeze the action at any moment and you would have a memorable image. But, for all Tuminas’s visual gifts and skilful use of music ranging from folksongs to Offenbach, it remains a strangely undramatic affair. As a shredded version of Charles Johnston’s English translation hurtles across the surtitle screen, I felt we were seeing a picture-book version of the poem. Eugeniya Kregzhde brings a fine impetuosity to Tatyana, Sergei Makovetskiy exudes the right regretful lassitude as the older Onegin and the veteran Ludmila Maksakova makes a striking impression as an imperious dance-master. But, although the Russian speakers around me were in ecstasies, I missed, over close to three-and-a-half hours, the speed and lightness of Pushkin’s poem.

• Until 21 February. Box office: 0845 120 7511. Venue: Barbican, London

Continue reading...

Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 4232

Trending Articles