Austria Tchaikovsky, The Queen of Spades (Pique Dame): Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of Vienna State Opera / Timur Zangiev (conductor). Livestreamed from the Vienna State Opera (directed by Dominik Kepczynski), 27.6.2025. (JPr)
I still see quite a lot of opera one way or other but it was only when the curtain sent up for Tchaikovsky’s 1890 The Queen of Spades (Pique Dame) at Vienna State Opera that I realised how I had watched Vera Nemirova’s production only three years ago. Many of my reactions to it now – and the notes I took – were much the same as that first time; so this review will rely in some degree on what I wrote in 2022.
The Queen of Spades has a fairly straightforward supernatural plot with a libretto – based on an 1834 Alexander Pushkin novella with the same title and a rather different story – by the composer’s brother, Modest. Hermann is a somewhat dissolute army officer in late-eighteenth century St Petersburg who is infatuated with Lisa, the granddaughter of a domineering Countess, who is engaged to his friend Prince Yeletsky. Hermann becomes obsessed with ‘winning’ Lisa from Yeletsky when he learns how the Countess has a closely-guarded secret about three cards (‘Tri kartï’) – three, seven and ace – which legend has it will guarantee his success at the gambling table. This becomes all-consuming for Hermann with (spoiler alert!) fatal consequences for the Countess, Lisa and himself ultimately.
Nemirova’s production is 18 years old now though it does not really show its age and could have been staged at any time in the intervening years since 2007. We begin in a bleakly grey and oppressive post-war Soviet orphanage with a row of metal, hospital-style beds (stage right) for some children as the opera begins. A flight of stone steps (stage left) leads to a small room on a first floor (with rather opaque windows) and characters withdraw and emerge from there throughout the opera. This is Johannes Leiacker’s basic set – with on occasions the addition of chairs, an overhead single chandelier and some ceiling strip lights, a piano or slot machines – that allows for every scene to be played out in the opera; including in a summer garden, Lisa’s home, a ballroom, Hermann’s barracks, the Countess’s room, the Winter Canal and a gambling house.
Nemirova appears to be presenting us with a critique of Russia after the fall of communism and charting the rise of a nouveau riche (oligarchs) who have all made loads of money very quickly; mostly at the expense of the majority who were left behind and are in need. This is shown by some ordinary people scavenging the detritus of a gala fashion show, as well as others begging for money from the Countess. Hermann’s friend Count Tomsky and his colleagues appear to be involved in the project of turning the orphanage into the Act III casino (we will see the disposed orphans from the first scene processing across the front of the stage at the start of the second act).
Marie-Luise Strandt’s costumes are modern and dark – indeed Hermann seems to be continuously in a singer’s black rehearsal clothes – and from any time in the late-twentieth century; with rare splashes of glamour from the Countess in her extravagant fur coat, some fashion models (mostly in fur and swimwear), pole/lap/go-go dancers, as well as the pastiche of ‘The Faithful Shepherdess’ pastoral during the second-act champagne-fuelled black tie event where the women are all seemingly blonde. Intriguingly – as in Richard Strauss’s later Ariadne auf Naxos – a master of ceremonies announces fireworks and later that divertissement. The latter needs to be seen to be believed and is a – somewhat dated admittedly – mix of Gay Pride carnival, celebration of S&M and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. (This perceived loucheness is not what we expect from current Russian society, though I suspect it is more prevalent than we imagine.)
Still impressive is the appearance of a bejewelled Catherine the Great amongst the audience at the end of the first scene of Act II and on this occasion, I had more understanding how Nemirova has made the Countess and the empress one character. We better appreciate this when we see the Countess climbing the stairs to retire to her room at the start of Act III regally dressed in white as ‘Catherine the Great’ was.
As before, I cannot be certain if all of Nemirova’s original Personenregie remains though what there is was highly effective again and so Tchaikovsky’s opera was excellent all-round – as in 2022 – because of its remarkable ensemble of singing-actors. Elena Zaremba is the Countess and her characterisation owes much to Sunset Boulevard’s Norma Desmond. Notably when Zaremba’s Countess has her moment in the spotlight as she recounts her past glories when she sang Laurette’s Aria from André Grétry’s opera Richard Cœur-de-Lion at Versailles before Madame de Pompadour herself. The Countess seems to want to add Hermann to her list of conquests we are told about in Act I. Hermann and the Countess grapple on her bed though she almost immediately expires, though to Hermann’s consternation this is before she has revealed the secret of her three-card trick. However, a prophecy is fulfilled that the Countess will die at the hands of a ‘third suitor’ trying to force this information out of her. Hermann is on top of her again as the Countess lies in state on her bier – which suggests something else entirely! – before she chillingly rises to tell him what he believes he needs to know in order for him to get the money to marry Lisa. Hermann’s need to gamble and use the Countess’s ‘Tri kartï’ is now all-consuming.
The final scene is excellently staged and if The Queen of Spades – which I have only ever seen a few times before – hadn’t already weaved its spell, the denouement sealed the deal. Around the central card table which is surrounded by those slot machines the marauding Hermann brandishes a gun – truth be told he has been threatening almost everyone with it during the opera – and holds the room hostage while he sings about how life is just a game. Soon he realises he has been tricked and the ace he anticipated is only the queen of spades; meanwhile Lisa’s dead body has been brought in for Yeletsky to grieve over. Hermann begs forgiveness and shoots himself while all concerned sing ‘Lord, forgive him!’ and the closing bars are Wagnerian and redemptive.
As hinted at above both singing and acting was of the highest possible standard. Anna Netrebko matched Yusif Eyvazov’s Hermann in dramatic credibility and tormented anguish. Currently singing as well as ever, Netrebko displayed her powerful, expressive, and emotive soprano voice with its familiar rich, dusky tones to its upmost in what was a role debut. Before Lisa is engulfed in a sea of umbrellas (another Nemirova leitmotif) and ‘drowns’, Netrebko’s resignation during Lisa’s concluding ‘I am worn out by grief’ was heartrending. Given current #MeToo sensibilities Hermann could be considered to stalk and groom Lisa and Eyvazov’s portrayal of an increasingly wide-eyed and mentally disintegrating character was in part disturbing, in part compelling. Even more remarkable was how Eyvazov’s voice didn’t tire and remained impassioned and secure (with some particularly long held top notes) during what is an extraordinarily demanding role.
Returning as Yeletsky, Boris Pinkhasovich brilliantly conveyed a deepfelt concern in his moving Act II aria (‘I love you beyond measure’) which deserved its prolonged applause for his exquisite legato line alone (something I remarked on in 2022 as well). Alexey Markov employed his smooth baritone to good effect once again as Tomsky and Andrea Giovannini and Ivo Stanchev impressed with their involvement throughout the opera as Chekalinsky and Surin. Elena Maximova also caught the eye and ear as Polina (and Daphnis in the pastoral) because of her expansive and sumptuous mezzo timbre. I cannot name everyone, but the singing of all the principal cast, and the remarkable, very committed chorus, helped make this a further memorable performance of The Queen of Spades in this current production.
Making his debut in the pit at the Vienna State Opera was the young Timur Zangiev who has previously assisted Valery Gergiev (the conductor in 2022) with The Queen of Spades. Zangiev drew an often searing and detailed account of Tchaikovsky’s symphonic and highly romantic score from the consummate and compliant Vienna State Opera Orchestra. (Never before have I appreciated how much the composer seems to have recycled themes from his earlier music for Swan Lake.) As Gergiev before him, I thought Zangiev’s The Queen of Spades was idiomatic, pliant, darkly expressive, undoubtedly haunted and without any undue sentimentality. Nevertheless, Zangiev did emphasise the work’s soaring – and sometimes oddly Italianate – melodies to expose, unsurprisingly the opera’s affinity with the soul of Mother Russia, the land of his birth, as well as the composer of course.
Jim Pritchard
Production:
Director & Lighting – Vera Nemirova
Stage designer – Johannes Leiacker
Costume designer – Marie-Luise Strandt
Chorus director – Martin Schebesta
Cast:
Hermann – Yusif Eyvazov
Tomsky / Pluto – Alexey Markov
Yeletsky – Boris Pinkhasovich
Chekalinsky – Andrea Giovannini
Surin – Ivo Stanchev
Chaplitsky – Hiroshi Amako
Narumow – Dan Paul Dumitrescu
Master of Ceremonies – Hans-Peter Kammerer
Countess – Elena Zaremba
Lisa – Anna Netrebko
Polina / Daphnis – Elena Maximova
Governess – Stephanie Maitland
Masha / Chloe – Maria Nazarova
Piano on the stage – Kristin Okerland