Deutsche Oper Berlin, Season 2024/25
“PIKOVAJA DAMA”” (The Queen of spades)
Opera in three acts, Libretto by Modest Tchaikovsky
Music by Pyotr I. Tchaikovsky
Herman IVAN GYNGAZOV
Lisa MARIA MOTOLYGINA
Countess JENNIFER LARMORE
Count Tomsky LUCIO GALLO
Prince Yeletsky DEAN MURPHY
Polina MARTINA BARONI
Chekalinsky CHANCE JONAS-O’TOOLE
Surin PADRAIC ROWAN
Chaplitsky ANDREW DICKINSON
Narumov MICHAEL BACHTADZE
Governess NICOLE PICCOLOMINI
Masha ARIANNA MANGANELLO
Master of Ceremonies JÖRG SCHÖRNER
Chor & Orchester  der Deutschen Oper Berlin
Kinderchor der Deutschen Oper Berlin
Opernballett der Deutschen Oper Berlin
Conductor Juraj Valčuha
Chorus master Jeremy Bines
Children’s Chorus Christian Lindhorst
Choreographer Ron Howell
Director Sam Brown
Set design, costume design Stuart Nunn
Light Linus Fellbom
Video design Martin Eidenberger
Berlin, 29th June 2025
I was lucky enough to see a performance of Pikovaya dama by Piotr I. Tchaikovsky at the Mariinsky Theatre forty years ago, at a time when the opera house was still officially called Kirov Theatre in what was then Leningrad, now Saint Petersburg, Russia. It was of course traditional in the best sense of the word – I remember the first scene very well, for which the famous Summer Garden had been almost faithfully recreated, just a dream of good old Russia – and so different from the production by Sam Brown at the Deutsche Oper Berlin, which I attended on 29 June. Originally planned for the 2020/2021 season, it was cancelled due to the restrictions imposed by the coronavirus pandemic. The principles were still laid down by Sir Graham Vick, who tragically died in July 2021 as a result of the disease. Sam Brown, a friend of Vick’s, was eventually commissioned to complete the production started by the deceased, which premiered on 9 March 2024. According to the cast list, I saw the ninth performance and was generally impressed by how coherent the production is overall. I wasn’t expecting good old St Petersburg on stage, of course, but I wasn’t disappointed to recognise it in Stuart Nunn’s set design: the Summer garden with its large iron fence and gates, the Neva Canal cleverly closed off by a staircase in the background, revealed when a sloping wall from the previous barracks scene was simply reversed, and from above by a concave wall to suggest a bridge arch, in short: simple theatrical tricks to great effect! The barracks wall with a map of the city, surrounded by various photos of Lisa, makes one think that Herman is stalking her. Nunn was less fortunate with the costumes: they look like a mix of styles from different eras, from the Countess’s rococo dress to the fashionable handbags and sunglasses of the strollers in the Summer garden, from the rather authentic uniforms of Tomsky, Yeletski and the other officers to Herman’s mouse-grey soldier’s outfit. At least the Countess is later allowed to wear a black silk coat in order to slip into Lisa’s magnificent light blue ball gown as a ghost, which emphasises Herman’s madness when both women appear to him to reveal the three cards. Nowadays, no opera production seems to be able to do without video projections, here by Martin Eidenberger. Director Brown chose a Russian silent film based on Pushkin’s story Pikovaya dama from 1916, just one year before the October Revolution heralded the abrupt end of the Tsarist country. Stills from the film are shown on the curtain screen before the start of the first and second parts. Film footage illustrates Tomsky’s ballad Tri karty and, above all, the bedroom scene in which the more than healthy countess in her mid-sixties receives Herman with explicit erotic advances, while a vintage projector throws corresponding parts of the film onto the background. One can find such effects disturbing because they distract from the music and the stage action. Perhaps they also fill the gap that arises between the desire to tell the story for a modern audience and a largely conservative characterisation. Brown stages the actual story well. Right at the beginning, he shows that Herman and Lisa’s fate is predetermined and has them both appear as children: Herman as an outsider who is maltreated by patriotic peers and Lisa as a saviour who delights him with toys. It is charming that the countess is not a doomed old woman and appears for Herman as a lover in Lisa’s dress. The travesty ballet of the last scene choreographed by Vick’s husband Ron Howell is probably due to the original planning and dispensable; however indispensable is the shepherd’s play in the ball scene, which the director has completely cancelled, which disrupts the musical structure of the act and the dramaturgy of the play, as Herman could symbolically recognise in the pastorale that he can prevail against wealth with true love. The usual interval after the second act, which leaves the audience pensive after the Countess’s death scene, is brought forward so that the scene is moved to the second part. It’s a great idea that Lisa and Herman remain separated by the river in the Neva scene; after all, Herman’s gambling addiction means that they no longer have much in common. Why Lisa ends up on the gambling table after jumping into the river remains a mystery, as does Herman’s attempt to assassinate the Countess as Catherine the Great at the end of the ball. Musically, hardly anything is left to be desired, which is primarily due to the two main protagonists, young native-speaking singers with Russian voices, big enough to hold their own effortlessly in the now customary orchestra pit-stage competition: Ivan Gyngazov sings Herman in the best tradition of Surab Andshaparidse or Vladimir Atlantov. Ensemble member Maria Motolygina had stepped in for Sondra Radvanovsky as Lisa in the premiere run a year ago and repeated the success all the more brilliantly. She sings as if there is no tomorrow and puts even Galina P. Vishnevskaya, who I hold in high esteem and who cleverly knew that the role tends towards the highly dramatic, into perspective. A few months ago I still regretted Motolygina’s cancellation of Vier letzte Lieder, but now I am looking forward to the big roles she is announced for next season (Elisabetta, Maddalena). Conductor Juraj Valčuha places the work perfectly between the two great Richards and lets Tchaikovsky’s score both roar and shimmer silvery-grey like the Neva, with the Orchester der Deutschen Oper Berlin firmly in control. The same applies to the excellently singing Chor and Kinderchor der Deutschen Oper Berlin, rehearsed by Jeremy Bines and Christian Lindhorst. Non-native-speaking singers, on the other hand, have a harder time, especially Jennifer Larmore’s Countess, who has been enhanced by the direction. The former rival to Cecilia Bartoli in the Rossini repertoire has now ventured as far as Kostelnicka. She sings the role flawlessly, albeit without demonisation, and comes across more as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard than as an aristocratic noblewoman. The virile and still vocally potent Lucio Gallo as Tomsky comes off better and gives the Tri karty dramaturgically appropriate weight, as he does in the insinuating couplet Esli b’ milye devitsy in the last scene. Another promising ensemble member, baritone Dean Murphy, sings Yeletski beautifully, especially the famous Ja vas lyublyu, but unlike the commanding native speakers, he shows how indispensable surtitles can be. The other officers are also well cast with Chance Jonas-O’Toole’s Chekalinsky and Padraic Rowan’s Surin. Martina Baroni as Polina proved that great Russian mezzos are always in a class of their own in this role and Nicole Piccolomini contributed far sterner tones for the Governess in keeping with the role. Unlike a number of other recent productions at the Deutsche Oper such as Arabella, Macbeth, Die Frau ohne Schatten, this one does not hurt because it is not directed against the play, the singers or the audience, the story is understandable apart from a few minor liberties.