OPERA REVIEW : Bolshoi’s Disappointing ‘Onegin’

America knows the Bolshoi Ballet rather well. Only the iciest of cold wars has kept that massive assembly of bravura dancers and kitsch extravaganzas from our shores.

But the mighty opera company that shares the fabled 2,000-seat theater in Moscow doesn’t travel as light, or as often. It did appear at Expo ’67 in Montreal, but, until Tuesday, had made it to America only once: as a memorable fulfillment of Sol Hurok’s final entrepreneurial dream in 1975.

Memorable certainly is the correct adjective. No one who experienced the Bolshoi at the Met 16 years ago is likely to have forgotten it. Here, at last, was heroic yet introspective Russian opera on the right scale.

Here was Russian opera in the right language, with the right sound, the right look and the right expressive force. We learned how much had been lost in all those dubious translations and approximations all those years.

Among the glories of the summer of ’75 was a definitive production of Tchaikovsky’s “Yevgeny Onegin.” Repeat: Yevgeny . This certainly wasn’t Eugene .

Tchaikovsky’s sweeping lyricism soared and his troubled broodings rumbled with unmistakable emotional conviction, both onstage and in the pit. An ever-changing series of compelling singers--singers with such names as Kasrashvili, Kalinina, Mazurok, Fedoseyev, Atlantov, Korolyov, Sinyavskaya and Nesterenko--performed with passion tempered by finesse.

The staging scheme, which dated back to 1944, may have seemed a bit old-fashioned. Still, it reflected the romantic spirit of both Tchaikovsky and his literary inspiration, Pushkin, at every picturesque turn.

Now, amid much justifiable brouhaha and despite daunting fiscal crises on two continents, the Bolshoi has finally returned to America. What’s more, the company has brought its first new production of “Onegin” in 47 years. The world premiere took place not in Moscow but at Lincoln Center.

New doesn’t always mean better. Only one element in the 1991 edition can compare favorably with its predecessor: the profoundly noble, magnificently resonant Prince Gremin of the basso Yevgeny Nesterenko. And Nesterenko happens to be the only holdover from the 1975 cast.

What has gone wrong? Just about everything. Alexander Lazarev, the artistic director and chief conductor of the Bolshoi, decided at the last minute that he couldn’t be here for the opening week. He had pressing business, we were told, in Duisburg, Germany. To comprehend his priorities, think hypothetically of James Levine choosing to conduct in San Jose while the Metropolitan Opera-- his Metropolitan Opera--makes its debut in Moscow.

In New York on Tuesday, the opening-night baton fell by default to Fuat Mansurov. He is a highly competent, accommodating, ever-sympathetic routinier . He isn’t exactly an incendiary presence of the podium.

Boris Prokovsky, the old Bolshoi pro who had staged the classic 1944 version of “Onegin,” was in charge of its replacement as well. For some reason, he also decided not to attend the premiere.

That is a pity. One would like to ask him why he didn’t leave well enough alone. His new production, though just as conservative in style and tone as the old one, makes many fussy changes, no obvious improvements.

Valery Levental, the designer, has provided Prokovsky with a supremely awkward, sprawling unit set for the first four scenes: an open cutout depicting the Larina mansion. It forces the peasant chorus into a clumsy, partially obscured box way upstage. It places Tatiana’s bedroom in a tiny side balcony, and thus requires the girl to impersonate Lady Macbeth while wandering around the far corners in her shoes and nightie during the Letter Scene. In the finale--which seemed to suffer a lighting mishap on Tuesday--the heroine rejects love, and Onegin, amid the sudden anachronism of a cinematic blackout.

The telling, realistic details of yore have disappeared. The crucial class distinctions between peasants, bourgeoisie and aristocracy are no longer observed. The dance episodes, though emphatically reduced, do not spring organically from the dramatic situation. In some scenes, the choristers now wear identical costumes, as if ball gowns were uniforms. At the St. Petersburg ball, ca. 1835, the members of an onstage band sport modern tuxedos.

Scenic clutter has replaced theatrical grandeur. Operatic cliche has supplanted narrative urgency.

A great cast still might have salvaged much of the enterprise. Most of the best-known Bolshoi singers, however, are not on this tour. A particularly youthful, relatively inexperienced ensemble was chosen for the new “Onegin”--presumably to impart a fresh perspective on the piece. No such luck.

Vladimir Redkin looked pallidly handsome and sounded modestly mellifluous in the title role. It wasn’t enough.

Nina Rautio mustered some exquisite pianissimo phrases as Tatiana and struck pretty, wide-eyed, mildly petulant poses. She got into trouble, however, whenever the composer demanded fervor, either vocal or histrionic.

Oleg Kulko reduced Lensky’s limpid poetry to raspy prose. Elena Zaremba offered big, rough mezzo-soprano sounds as an attractive but hardly sensuous Olga.

The supporting roles used to inspire illuminating little character portraits; now they are painted by the numbers. Alexander Arkhipov reduced Monsieur Triquet to a caricature, and, contrary to Tchaikovsky’s wishes, sang his charming French couplets in Russian.

Nesterenko could easily have saved the evening--if only Gremin’s rolling rhetoric lasted more than 10 minutes.

Before the Bolshoi tour ends July 6 at Lincoln Center (with performances through July 15 at Wolf Trap near Washington), there will be other “Onegins” with other casts, not to mention two interesting rarities: Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Mlada” and Tchaikovsky’s “Maid of Orleans.” Hope springs internal.

Incidental intelligence:

* Capitalist sponsorship is prominently acknowledged in the program. The benefactors include Elbim Bank in Moscow and the Mayflower Hotel on Central Park. Most intriguing, Stolichnaya is listed as “the official vodka” of the tour.

* At odd points during the performance, both chorus and orchestra sounded as if they were amplified, if not pre-recorded. A representative of the American management insisted that microphones were used only for offstage instruments that reinforced the upstage chorus.

The Bolshoi Opera is, in any case, no stranger to electronic intervention and/or distortion. Until recently, the company performed frequently in the 6,000-seat Kremlin Palace of Congresses, where microphones are deemed necessary if not evil.