There is a certain economy present within Janácek's score of Kátya Kabanová, as no musical expressions are wasted, whilst over-wrought emotionally evocative writing is kept for the most pertinent and appropriate scenes. Reduced to a piano accompaniment at last night’s premiere of Kally Lloyd-Jones’s production at Scottish Opera (sung in English), this Kátya singularly exposes Janácek's intricate compositional style; neatly depicting the score’s central motifs in the very capable hands of pianist and music director Ian Ryan. The Eastwood Park Theatre in Giffnoch is, what is sometimes nebulously referred to in estate agent jargon as, bijoux. It should have been much too small a venue in which to hear such an opera, but its chamber style effect produced an intense and memorable evening.

Coming so soon after Opera Holland Park’s super-charged production, the bar was set very high indeed. To a considerable extent, Scottish Opera produced an evening just as powerful, just as remarkable, albeit in an entirely different way. The real test of any production of Kátya, is whether a company manages to communicate more than misery and suffering, more than just a pastiche of stereotypical interpretations of Slav culture. Ultimately, Kátya is a story about love, indominatable free will in the face of oppression and independence of thought and of action. It is a liberating experience to feel hope, even when the mirror reflection only depicts suffering. Scratch the surface of this masterpiece and you will find that Kátya is the only true character in the opera, the only true human, everyone else is one-dimensional, caricatures, whose raison d’ être is to frame the plight of Kátya and her humanity.

By mustering a strong cast of “emerging” and experienced artists, Scottish Opera provided a winning combination of enthusiasm and expertise. I am however, ambivalent about the staging, which was ostensibly set in what appeared to be the Deep South of the USA, rather than by the banks of the Volga, or at least the costumes indicated this hypothesis. It felt more like Tennessee Williams than Ostrovsky! It was a multi-purpose staging, used to embody both the banks of the river, the garden and the interior of Kátya’s home. A large wooden bridge type construction dominated the left-hand side of the stage, but through the occasional adjustment of throws and cushions, suitable transformations occurred. There was appropriately enough an economy to the set, which emphasized the opera’s protagonists rather than the staging. Lighting was used to good effect in the storm and also to suggest the passage of time, from day to night and back again. All well and good, but why the Deep South? And why frame Kátya’s death by poison, when the text clearly points to her jumping into the Volga, presumably drowning? To rob the Volga of her death is a failure to understand the symbolism of the great river, which was a point of considerable importance to Janácek.

Nadine Livington as Kátya was astonishing. If this is the sort of calibre of artist we can expect to see from the “Emerging Artist Programme” at Scottish Opera, then the “Jette Parker Young Artist Programme” at The Royal Opera will need to look to its laurels. Although these things are difficult to assess when you are in a small theatre, there is no doubt that Miss Livingston possesses a powerful and highly expressive voice. At times it was too healthy, especially so when it hit me like a laser-guided missile! Beyond volume, it was a voice that was clean, bright and evenly focussed. There was no surface scratch to it, no hint of any deficiencies in technique, just a well-rounded, strong and athletic sound that points directly towards an extremely promising future. Perhaps Beethoven’s Leonore should be on the cards soon, rather than the assigned Musetta? Aside from the vocal aspects of her performance, Miss Livingston is also a touching and affecting actress. It took her a short time to get inside her character, but by the end of Act I we were seeing a gifted actress as well as a gifted singer. Her touching embrace of Boris was exquisitely tender, the confession of her infidelity reckless, whilst her death scene was all about resignation from hope and life. No ham theatrics, no over-the-top silent movie impersonations, it was all very touching, and I was all the more moved because of it.

Emma Carrington as Kabanicha, the mother-in-law from hell, was deliciously vampish. Instead of the usual hectoring morality and outraged Hyacinth Bucket type creation we are all used to seeing, Miss Carrington’s Kabanicha was a touch seedy, morally bankrupt and personally dangerous. More Mae West than Mrs Bucket, her slow destruction of her daughter-in-law’s life was pretty vicious. Disturbingly, there was the faint suggestion of incest as Kabanicha and Tikhon almost passionately kissed before he was due to depart for his business travels in Act I. Falling short of the kiss, the incest allusion provided an unusual slant on why she loathed Kátya so much. At the conclusion, redemption is not scored for Kabanicha, but in this production we do get to see the merest glimmer of remorse as she delivers her thank you. Vocally she seemed a little hollow sounding, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing under the circumstances. Simon Crosby Buttle as Tikhon, played the usual simpering imbecile, sent to demonstrate how to live your life without a backbone. It’s not a role which offers up many dramatic possibilities, but vocally, Crosby Buttle had the measure of the part, singing with a bright, clean and attractive tenor. Paul Reeves as Dikoy was a bit insubstantial for my liking. His attempt at portraying Dikoy as a blustering, morally corrupt buffoon, detracted from the violence of his character. Dikoy for me serves two purposes only, firstly to demonstrate how avarice corrupts morality, and secondly, to expose Kabanicha’s seedy, unpleasant nature. Everything else is extraneous, unimportant, mere distractions from his rancid personality. But to reduce him to a blustery, almost camp send-up is a mistake. Vocally, Reeves was very good indeed. He possesses a very characterful baritone with plenty of heft and excellent diction.

The lovers Varvara and Kudrjash, were splendidly sung by Caryl Hughes and Ben Thapa. Again, they are not real people in their own right, but creations whose existence is to emphasise Kátya’s very real persona. Miss Hughes as Varvara, was suitably coquettish, without overdoing it. However, I missed that extra ingredient from her character which is so important, namely control. Varvara’s role in facilitating the meeting between Kátya and Boris, has never felt entirely innocent to me. She is, to a degree, aware of what the consequences would be of their meeting, and of Kátya’s reluctance and fragile state of mind and yet, either benignly or mischievously, she has a hand in orchestrating Kátya’s demise. Whether the interpretation should commit to this approach is debatable, but some suggestion of this personality trait would have been welcome. I’m splitting hairs here a little, as overall her interpretation was extremely good. Her light-lyric mezzo-soprano was also warming to listen to, with just enough vibrato present to suggest that this Varvara was a woman of the world, and not an innocent young girl. Thapa as Kudryash was uniformly excellent. Delectably cheeky, with a bright and handsome tenor, you were witnessing a man living in the moment. His singing of Janácek's synthetic “folk song” was one of the highlights of the evening.

Michael Bracegirdle as Boris was perhaps the only weak link of the evening. I’m unsure if he was suffering from a cold, or some similar ailment, but his tenor sounded too reedy and constricted for my liking. It’s a challenging role to sing, but you need an alluring and handsome timbre to suggest the lover in this tragedy. He did however, redeem himself with some very fine acting. His agitation and nervousness at waiting for Kátya to come into the garden for their nocturnal rendez-vous, was palpable. His handsome stage presence certainly suggested the lover, but some work is needed on introducing greater body to his tone.

Aside from Livingston’s Kátya, the other star of the evening was Ian Ryan, the pianist and music director. A passionate, almost flamboyant piano accompaniment was delivered by him, richly deserving the enthusiastic cheers which greeted him at the end. They are a remarkable team, an ensemble in fact, who have produced a very memorable performance of what is, let’s face it, not the easiest opera in the world to get right. Scotland has played an important part in the development of this opera, helping to establish it in the repertoire back in 1964 as a result of the Prague National Theatre’s production at the Edinburgh Festival. Building on that heritage, Scottish Opera has again contributed its own very memorable Kátya. Go and see it!

Antony Lias
Opera Britannia