An Interview with Alexander Vedernikov, Music Director of the Bolshoi Theatre
Looking back at last July or August, you presumably set yourself certain goals for the upcoming season. Were you able to achieve them?
If we are talking about scheduled events, everything that was intended to happen did indeed take place.
And in artistic terms? For example, the season’s opening production, Eugene Onegin—did the staging fulfill your expectations?
When you begin work on a production, its ultimate shape is never entirely clear. Even when a stage model is presented to you and looks quite marvelous on paper, the end result can easily fall short. Conversely, you might be faced with a model that appears baffling or ill-conceived, and then suddenly everything falls brilliantly into place. So an element of unpredictability is always present—and, arguably, essential.
As for Onegin specifically, as a piece of dramatic theatre it turned out exceptionally well. To what extent I succeeded in realizing my musical ideas is another matter. Whenever one interacts with a director’s vision, compromise is inevitable. One can attempt to minimize it—which is my usual approach—or one can dig in one's heels and refuse to work unless specific demands are met. But if you take the latter path, you inevitably face a different problem down the line: you may have realized your musical intentions to the letter, but at the expense of the drama, which begins to sag.
Naturally, conductors and directors initially get in each other’s way. Over time, however, a mutual understanding develops. I come to grasp what he requires, he realizes what I need, and collaboration becomes smoother. Dmitri Tcherniakov, moreover, is a director with a profound affinity for music. Working with Alexander Sokurov was more challenging; to my mind, the music tended to hinder rather than help him. Perhaps that is because he is such a self-sufficient and imposing creative figure in his own right. In any case, there was an ongoing polemic between him and Mussorgsky, in which I naturally sided with the composer. We managed to salvage certain elements, while others were lost.
As for our symphonic concerts, I believe the artistic results were very respectable indeed. In that regard, I would particularly highlight our final symphonic programme—Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde—a performance of which no one need feel ashamed. It demonstrates that artistic progress is taking place, occasionally even in quantum leaps. Things that would have been unthinkable not so long ago are now entirely achievable, and at a remarkably high standard.
In this sense, the upcoming season will be a litmus test. We have to deliver standout performances at La Scala, alongside appearances at the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival and several other major engagements. Notably, I am not taking on any new opera productions myself next season. That, incidentally, serves as an answer of sorts to the criticism that the Bolshoi is failing to attract major artistic figures. The presence of Mikhail Pletnev and Yuri Temirkanov represents a conductorial standard that is surely beyond reproach.
Indeed, last season was marked by Yuri Temirkanov’s appointment as Principal Guest Conductor. What are your thoughts on this development?
In my view, the volume of work Yuri Khatuevich intends to undertake will be immensely beneficial to all our performing bodies—the orchestra, the chorus, and the opera company as a whole. This season he is set to conduct a new production of Carmen, which is a major undertaking in itself, alongside revival performances from the standard repertoire, including The Queen of Spades. He will also lead a symphonic concert and will likely conduct a number of performances on tour.
Are there any negative developments that have become apparent to you over the past year?
What concerns me is a certain lack of high-profile "talking points"—in the best sense of the phrase. The theatre is operating in its new venue, where organizational constraints are severe. That is problematic, because the routine repetition of repertory revivals is hardly the pinnacle of artistic endeavor. We need to explore alternative formats, perhaps through exceptional, high-concept events or even dedicated festivals. This was likely one of the motivations that prompted Valery Gergiev to establish a series of festivals, including the Moscow Easter Festival: prolonged existence within the rigid confines of standard theatrical operations inevitably leads to monotony.
Yet this season saw two major opera premieres, three ballets, and a successful series of symphonic concerts…
It is not a question of quantity, but of presentation. We could perform the exact same number of productions as we do now, but with a different framework, the impact would be entirely transformed. Take La Scala, for instance. Whatever they present carries an aura of exclusivity. A run of ten performances takes place—and that is it; it will not be seen again.
To be fair, La Scala operates under a stagione system…
The operational model is not as radically different as it might seem, though distinctions certainly exist. Even so, I am continually plagued by the thought that, rather than giving six or eight performances of The Tsar’s Bride scattered across a season at monthly intervals—with hit-and-miss artistic quality dependent on casting and available rehearsal time—it would be vastly superior to assemble a formidable cast, engage a fine conductor, allow three or four days of concentrated rehearsal, and run six performances in quick succession. From an artistic standpoint, the result would be completely different. It would allow us to generate real momentum around a revival—announcing that a singer of Sidorov’s caliber is singing Gryaznoy, or that the wonderful Petrova is taking on Lyubasha—while simultaneously raising the performance standard of the production itself.
Are you cautious about generating the kind of intense media scrutiny that surrounded Eugene Onegin? Did the fiery reception to that production disconcert you?
I feel it generated precisely the right amount of attention. Frankly, had it not been for Galina Vishnevskaya’s public comments, the entire affair would have passed off much more quietly. The production itself has been an unequivocal box-office success with audiences—we are now in a position to draw firm conclusions on that front. It leaves no one indifferent, which makes it a genuinely potent piece of theatre.
Speaking of public controversy—does it trouble you that the Bolshoi is frequently the subject of media commentary and speculation, often unsupported by the facts?
The Bolshoi is an endless source of commentary. It is a bottomless well in the sense that if an outsider wishes to make headlines, attacking something at the Bolshoi guarantees an instant surge of publicity. Unfortunately, the theatre has yet to formulate a cohesive strategy for responding to such commentary. The Bolshoi does not entirely understand how to navigate these situations.
The prevailing view is that we ought not to stoop to answering absurdities. On one hand, that is true enough; but on the other… Imagine two chess players, one of whom begins playing with extreme arrogance. If the second player merely complains about poor sportsmanship, he will promptly be checkmated, and that will be the end of it. Consider the King’s Gambit—a notoriously aggressive opening. Yet defenses exist. You can counter it in various ways, ensuring that the player who acted brazenly at the outset gets their comeuppance in the endgame. Provided, of course, that one plays skillfully. But we have yet to devise such strategies.
This brings us back to my point about productions serving as media events. A revival of The Tsar’s Bride cannot generate headlines on its own; that momentum must come from a guest artist or conductor. The broader point is that the Bolshoi needs a coherent strategy and a clear understanding of how it presents itself to society and how it is perceived. In short, it must actively manage its image. That is easily said and notoriously difficult to execute, but steps are being taken in that direction.
Source.
Looking back at last July or August, you presumably set yourself certain goals for the upcoming season. Were you able to achieve them?
If we are talking about scheduled events, everything that was intended to happen did indeed take place.
And in artistic terms? For example, the season’s opening production, Eugene Onegin—did the staging fulfill your expectations?
When you begin work on a production, its ultimate shape is never entirely clear. Even when a stage model is presented to you and looks quite marvelous on paper, the end result can easily fall short. Conversely, you might be faced with a model that appears baffling or ill-conceived, and then suddenly everything falls brilliantly into place. So an element of unpredictability is always present—and, arguably, essential.
As for Onegin specifically, as a piece of dramatic theatre it turned out exceptionally well. To what extent I succeeded in realizing my musical ideas is another matter. Whenever one interacts with a director’s vision, compromise is inevitable. One can attempt to minimize it—which is my usual approach—or one can dig in one's heels and refuse to work unless specific demands are met. But if you take the latter path, you inevitably face a different problem down the line: you may have realized your musical intentions to the letter, but at the expense of the drama, which begins to sag.
Naturally, conductors and directors initially get in each other’s way. Over time, however, a mutual understanding develops. I come to grasp what he requires, he realizes what I need, and collaboration becomes smoother. Dmitri Tcherniakov, moreover, is a director with a profound affinity for music. Working with Alexander Sokurov was more challenging; to my mind, the music tended to hinder rather than help him. Perhaps that is because he is such a self-sufficient and imposing creative figure in his own right. In any case, there was an ongoing polemic between him and Mussorgsky, in which I naturally sided with the composer. We managed to salvage certain elements, while others were lost.
As for our symphonic concerts, I believe the artistic results were very respectable indeed. In that regard, I would particularly highlight our final symphonic programme—Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde—a performance of which no one need feel ashamed. It demonstrates that artistic progress is taking place, occasionally even in quantum leaps. Things that would have been unthinkable not so long ago are now entirely achievable, and at a remarkably high standard.
In this sense, the upcoming season will be a litmus test. We have to deliver standout performances at La Scala, alongside appearances at the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival and several other major engagements. Notably, I am not taking on any new opera productions myself next season. That, incidentally, serves as an answer of sorts to the criticism that the Bolshoi is failing to attract major artistic figures. The presence of Mikhail Pletnev and Yuri Temirkanov represents a conductorial standard that is surely beyond reproach.
Indeed, last season was marked by Yuri Temirkanov’s appointment as Principal Guest Conductor. What are your thoughts on this development?
In my view, the volume of work Yuri Khatuevich intends to undertake will be immensely beneficial to all our performing bodies—the orchestra, the chorus, and the opera company as a whole. This season he is set to conduct a new production of Carmen, which is a major undertaking in itself, alongside revival performances from the standard repertoire, including The Queen of Spades. He will also lead a symphonic concert and will likely conduct a number of performances on tour.
Are there any negative developments that have become apparent to you over the past year?
What concerns me is a certain lack of high-profile "talking points"—in the best sense of the phrase. The theatre is operating in its new venue, where organizational constraints are severe. That is problematic, because the routine repetition of repertory revivals is hardly the pinnacle of artistic endeavor. We need to explore alternative formats, perhaps through exceptional, high-concept events or even dedicated festivals. This was likely one of the motivations that prompted Valery Gergiev to establish a series of festivals, including the Moscow Easter Festival: prolonged existence within the rigid confines of standard theatrical operations inevitably leads to monotony.
Yet this season saw two major opera premieres, three ballets, and a successful series of symphonic concerts…
It is not a question of quantity, but of presentation. We could perform the exact same number of productions as we do now, but with a different framework, the impact would be entirely transformed. Take La Scala, for instance. Whatever they present carries an aura of exclusivity. A run of ten performances takes place—and that is it; it will not be seen again.
To be fair, La Scala operates under a stagione system…
The operational model is not as radically different as it might seem, though distinctions certainly exist. Even so, I am continually plagued by the thought that, rather than giving six or eight performances of The Tsar’s Bride scattered across a season at monthly intervals—with hit-and-miss artistic quality dependent on casting and available rehearsal time—it would be vastly superior to assemble a formidable cast, engage a fine conductor, allow three or four days of concentrated rehearsal, and run six performances in quick succession. From an artistic standpoint, the result would be completely different. It would allow us to generate real momentum around a revival—announcing that a singer of Sidorov’s caliber is singing Gryaznoy, or that the wonderful Petrova is taking on Lyubasha—while simultaneously raising the performance standard of the production itself.
Are you cautious about generating the kind of intense media scrutiny that surrounded Eugene Onegin? Did the fiery reception to that production disconcert you?
I feel it generated precisely the right amount of attention. Frankly, had it not been for Galina Vishnevskaya’s public comments, the entire affair would have passed off much more quietly. The production itself has been an unequivocal box-office success with audiences—we are now in a position to draw firm conclusions on that front. It leaves no one indifferent, which makes it a genuinely potent piece of theatre.
Speaking of public controversy—does it trouble you that the Bolshoi is frequently the subject of media commentary and speculation, often unsupported by the facts?
The Bolshoi is an endless source of commentary. It is a bottomless well in the sense that if an outsider wishes to make headlines, attacking something at the Bolshoi guarantees an instant surge of publicity. Unfortunately, the theatre has yet to formulate a cohesive strategy for responding to such commentary. The Bolshoi does not entirely understand how to navigate these situations.
The prevailing view is that we ought not to stoop to answering absurdities. On one hand, that is true enough; but on the other… Imagine two chess players, one of whom begins playing with extreme arrogance. If the second player merely complains about poor sportsmanship, he will promptly be checkmated, and that will be the end of it. Consider the King’s Gambit—a notoriously aggressive opening. Yet defenses exist. You can counter it in various ways, ensuring that the player who acted brazenly at the outset gets their comeuppance in the endgame. Provided, of course, that one plays skillfully. But we have yet to devise such strategies.
This brings us back to my point about productions serving as media events. A revival of The Tsar’s Bride cannot generate headlines on its own; that momentum must come from a guest artist or conductor. The broader point is that the Bolshoi needs a coherent strategy and a clear understanding of how it presents itself to society and how it is perceived. In short, it must actively manage its image. That is easily said and notoriously difficult to execute, but steps are being taken in that direction.
Source.
Boris LIFANOVSKY,
July 15, 2007
July 15, 2007