Soviet Opera, Play Open San Diego Arts Fest : Speeches Welcome a Fine ‘Boris Godunov’ at Civic Theatre

It is always a bad sign when microphones are set up in front of the curtain. That means speeches will delay the start of the significant business at hand. That also can mean self-congratulation, puffery exchanges and socio-political hyperbole.

And so it was Saturday night at the Civic Theatre. First Ian D. Campbell, general director of the San Diego Opera, welcomed the dressy crowd to the opening of his company’s 25th anniversary season. So much for lyrical throat clearing.

Next, Mayor Maureen O’Connor came on to gush about the simultaneous inauguration of the San Diego Arts Festival, a three-week extravaganza subtitled “Treasures of the Soviet Union.”

“Tonight,” she declared, “San Diego has come of age as a great cosmopolitan city.” Ignoring any possible separation of church, state and art, she invoked blessings from on high.

Then she introduced Mikhail Gribanov, the Soviet deputy minister of culture, whose name seemed to escape her. Through an interpreter, he spoke of cultural perestroika .

“Let’s forget the bad sides of our relationship,” he suggested, eliciting enthusiastic applause.

Finally, it was time for “Boris Godunov,” and a rather good “Boris Godunov” it was. The fuss proved generally worthwhile.

Although one couldn’t tell it from the program magazine, this did not turn out to be Modest Mussorgsky’s “Boris.” It was Rimsky-Korsakov’s time-dishonored, slickly prettified version of Mussorgsky’s sprawling, forceful and primitive original.

The staging, moreover, fell a bit short of the festive ideal. Nathaniel Merrill, the seasoned director from the old Met of Rudolf Bing, kept vacillating between detailed realism and stock stylization. (The Russian masses went in for slice-of-life violence in the Kromy Forest but impersonated the stationary Imperial Choral Society of Moscow for Boris’ coronation.) Wolfram Skalicki’s clever but flimsy sets, borrowed from Toronto, looked literal one moment, sketchy the next.

Luckily, none of this mattered too much in context. “Boris Godunov,” which San Diego last experienced in 1972 with the unforgettable Norman Treigle as the tormented czar, can be saved by an authoritative conductor and compelling singing actors in the central roles. San Diego provided these in generous abundance.

Musical matters were in the sensitive hands of Dzhansug Kakhidze, head of the Tbilisi Opera in Georgia and one of Sarah Caldwell’s secret weapons last year at her coming-of-age Soviet-exchange festival in Boston. Despite limited rehearsal time and a somewhat thin-sounding orchestra, he conducted with urgency and eloquence predicated on a lifetime of specialized experience. He also elicited an inspired performance from the expanded, all-important San Diego chorus.

Kakhidze brought with him a Boris and Marina from the Kirov Opera in Leningrad plus three secondary principals from his own company in Tbilisi. They all testified to the unique values of a national operatic tradition.

Many aficionados still associate the title role with the virtuosic Feodor Chaliapin and, in the process, think the challenge must invite vocal indulgence and histrionic distortion. More recent Soviet bassos, however, have demonstrated the power of restraint.

Tall, relatively youthful and eminently dignified, Alexander Morozov recalls such contemporary models as Ivan Petrov and Yevgeni Nesterenko, but he is more agitated than the former, more psychologically oriented than the latter. He sings with the rolling, wide-ranging, subtly modulated tones that seem to be a Russian birthright, commands the stage instantly and savors the expressive impact of concentration and economy.

Gia Asatiani, as the old monk Pimen, complemented him with a slightly darker and rougher basso. Despite his reliance on standard gestures, both dramatic and vocal, he was imposing. Omar Khoperia, the third member of this low-voiced Soviet triumvirate, introduced a hearty Varlaam who could be humorous without resorting to buffo cliche and who scored his points with parlando finesse.

Irina Bogachova replaced the originally announced Elena Obraztsova, as Marina. She conveyed the princess’ wily, regal allure with much persuasion, even if her lush mezzo-soprano was sometimes compromised by unsteadiness under pressure.

In the climactic laments of the Simpleton--laments made somewhat redundant by the reinstatement of the St. Basil Cathedral episode--Teimuraz Gugushvili capitalized on the luxury of a golden bel-canto tenor rather than the scratchy sighs and whimpers to which we are accustomed. He was magnetic.

The Americans in the huge cast held their own, for the most part, honorably. Allan Glassman sang the music of the false Dmitri ardently, acted with convincing obsession and physically depicted the character fastidiously--lame arm, warts and all. Stephen West mustered a persuasive, Mephistophelian Rangoni.

Martha Jane Howe contributed a lusty Innkeeper, Martha Jane Weaver a sweetly feeble old Nurse. Sylvia Wen oozed proper purity as Xenia.

Thomas Booth, on the other hand, suggested little of the crucial duplicity of Prince Shuisky, and Julia Jamison looked far stronger than she sounded as the Tsarevitch, Feodor. Next to his Georgian sidekick, Bernard Fitch seemed unusually bland as the vagabond monk Missail.