TCHAIKOVSKY Swan Lake • Neeme Järvi, cond; James Ehnes (vn); Bergen PO • CHANDOS 5124(2) (2 SACDs: 154:41)

As has been noted in previous reviews of recordings of Tchaikovsky’s “complete” Swan Lake , there may well be as many different versions of the score as there have been productions of it. The problem is that Swan Lake is both the earliest (1875–1876) and the longest of the composer’s three great ballets, and it has had so many cooks adding their own ingredients, removing others, and generally revising the recipe that no one can say for sure what made up the original soufflé.

The generally known and accepted facts are these: The ballet, with original choreography by Julius Reisinger, was staged for the first time in February, 1877 by the Bolshoi Ballet at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theater. It was not well received; audience and critics alike felt it was too long and convoluted, its music too heavy, and its libretto, adapted from a story by a German author, an affront to Russian sensibilities. And thus began the tinkering and tampering. By the time the work was revived in 1895 by the Imperial Ballet at St. Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theater there was new choreography by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov, along with major musical revisions to the score by the Imperial Theater’s conductor and composer, Riccardo Drigo. It should be noted that by the time of the 1895 revival, Tchaikovsky was dead and had no hand in the new performing version. Tchaikovsky and Drigo had worked together previously, but according to accounts, they didn’t agree on much of anything and their relationship was strained.

The upshot of all this is that there is no definitive Swan Lake . It was no longer a ballet by one composer, but rather a group effort; and you know the saying about a camel being a horse designed by a committee. It’s important to bear this in mind when considering the various recordings of Swan Lake that claim to be complete, for the drastic differences in timings cannot be explained by mere tempo differences alone. There have to be other factors involved, such as omission of some movements, cuts to others, and/or reliance on differing versions/editions. Let’s look at the timings of several well-known recordings, sorted in order by duration.

Conductor	Orchestra	Label	Timing
Valery Gergiev	St. Petersburg Mariinsky O	Decca	106.59
Antál Dorati	Minneapolis SO	Mercury	131:41
Felix Slatkin	St. Louis SO	RCA	141:00
Mikhail Pletnev	Russian National O	Ondine	142.52
Dmitri Yablonsky	Russian State SO	Naxos	148:38
Michael Tilson Thomas	London SO	Sony	149:05
Mark Ermler	Royal Opera House O	Conifer	153.03
André Previn	London SO	EMI	153:02
Charles Dutoit	Montréal SO	Decca	153:56
Neeme Järvi	Bergen PO	Chandos	154:41
Wolfgang Sawallisch	Philadelphia O	EMI	158:45

Right off the bat, I need to offer a disclaimer: My personal familiarity with the above-listed recordings is limited to only four of them—Gergiev, Pletnev, Yablonsky, and now this new one by Järvi. Of the four, Gergiev’s version is the worst in terms of the hatchet job it does on the score. Movements are reordered—for example, the act I Waltz has been moved to act III and its ending abridged—and it’s full of egregious cuts—some 40 minutes of music are sacrificed. Gergiev’s Swan Lake is presumptively based on the Mariinsky performing version; i.e., the above-mentioned Drigo edition prepared for the 1895 St. Petersburg revival.

Looking at Pletnev’s timing of 142:52 vs. Yablonsky’s 148:58 and Järvi’s 154:41, it seems pretty obvious that that while tempo differences over the course of two and a half hours could account for the difference of approximately six minutes between Pletnev and Yablonsky and, in turn, between Yablonsky and Järvi, they’re unlikely to be the cause of the approximately 12-minute difference between Pletnev and Järvi.

Upon closer examination of all three recordings, what I found was that Yablonsky and Järvi both include two often dropped numbers from act III, the Pas de deux that was written after the fact specifically for Anna Sobeshchanskaya, and the “Danse Russe,” added specifically for Pelageya Karpakova. Pletnev omits these two additions, as do a number of others. Whether they should be included or not is a rather complex question.

Ballerinas of the day were not much different from their opera diva counterparts in terms of their egos. They had no shame when it came to demanding custom cadenzas to show off their voices or, in the case of danseuses, their fancy footwork and frilly tutus. The story surrounding Sobeshchanskaya and her Pas de deux is especially messy and borders on scandal. Originally picked to dance the lead role of Odette (the Swan) for the 1877 premiere, Sobeshchanskaya was ignominiously dropped from the cast at the last minute when a high-placed government official with whom she’d had a dalliance accused her of having taken expensive jewelry from him and then pawned it when she married a fellow danseur. On the spur of the moment, she was replaced by Pelageya Karpakova. Sobeshchanskaya survived the indignity and went on to dance the title role when the ballet was staged again a month later with no greater success than at its premiere.

But the intrigue didn’t end there. The ballerina made no bones about the fact that she hated both the choreography and the music, and so off she went to St. Petersburg, where she engaged Petipa to choreograph a new Pas de deux for her that would replace the third act’s Grand pas. Petipa complied and choreographed the new number to music, not by Tchaikovsky, but by Ludwig Minkus, the Imperial Ballet’s composer in residence.

When news of this change reached Tchaikovsky, he was miffed; his ego was probably bigger than Sobeshchanskaya’s. How dare she?! He was the composer, and he alone should take credit (or discredit) for the music. After some smoothing of his ruffled feathers, Tchaikovsky agreed to compose the music himself for Petipa’s new Pas de deux , but there was a problem. Tchaikovsky’s new music didn’t synch up with Petipa’s choreography, and Sobeshchanskaya, now back in Moscow, wasn’t about to travel back to St. Petersburg to go through the whole exercise again. She didn’t seem to care much one way or the other about the music, but she was adamant about keeping Petipa’s choreographed number. How exactly Tchaikovsky was prevailed upon to discard his newly composed music and essentially start over, this time following the outlines and rhythmic steps of Minkus’s music is not explained, but that’s what Tchaikovsky did. So, this particular episode apparently had a satisfactory ending for all involved, except, I suspect, for Minkus who surely must have felt put out. The original Grand pas with music by Tchaikovsky was replaced by Sobeshchanskaya’s Pas de deux with music first by Minkus and then by Tchaikovsky.

Based on the foregoing, it would seem that there is every reason to include this number in complete performances of the ballet, yet many conductors, Pletnev among them, don’t. The situation regarding the “Danse Russe” (Russian Dance) is much simpler and appears to be the reverse; it’s one of deletion rather than addition. It was composed for and included in the original 1877 version of the score danced by Karpakova, the premiere’s last-minute substitute for Sobeshchanskaya. The number was then removed for subsequent performances in which Sobeshchanskaya took over the role, for reasons one can easily guess. If two competing sopranos could bitch-slap each other on stage during a production of a Handel opera, there was no telling what professional jealousy might provoke between two rival ballerinas.

This describes only some of the butchery that turned Tchaikovsky’s finely feathered swan into a plucked chicken. It’s well to remember, however, that Swan Lake was not only the composer’s first completed ballet, it was really his first major stage undertaking to survive the ravages of time, even if not entirely intact. He was working on his opera Eugene Onegin at the same time, his first opera to achieve success; and though there had been earlier operatic efforts— The Voyevoda, Undina, The Oprichnik , and Vakula the Smith —they were either destroyed by the composer, recycled, later revised, or didn’t stir much interest at the time. Thus, at 37, Tchaikovsky’s greatest works still lay ahead of him, and he had yet to achieve the self-confidence that fame would bring him to be able to just say no to those who would mess with his music.

Neeme Järvi’s Swan Lake follows his Sleeping Beauty , reviewed in 36:5. I would expect to see a Nutcracker in the near future, perhaps timed to coincide with Christmas (I’m writing this in November 2013). My only objection to Järvi’s Sleeping Beauty was his somewhat business-like approach, which struck me as missing some of the music’s fairy magic. But the Bergen Philharmonic’s polished playing, James Ehnes’s ravishing violin solos, and Chandos’s thrilling multi-channel SACD recording offered much allure.

On relistening to that release, and in listening to this present one, in which Järvi, Ehnes, the Bergen orchestra, and Chandos repeat their earlier accomplishment, it occurred to me that my criticism of Järvi wasn’t entirely fair. There are two ways to conduct a ballet performance for a strictly audio recording. You can approach it as a concert work, in which case you will tend to emphasize the melodic, harmonic, and structural elements of the score, or you can approach it as a suite of dances, in which case you will emphasize the music’s rhythmic and terpsichorean aspects. Järvi falls into the former camp, and there’s nothing wrong in that, as long as he’s not directing a live production of the actual ballet, in which tempo, pacing, and phrasing need to be molded more flexibly to accommodate the movements of the dancers.

I can’t say absolutely that this is the most authoritatively complete Swan Lake on record, though in taking up the original 1877 score and including additional material supplied by Tchaikovsky himself for subsequent performances, Järvi gives us a version that’s certainly more complete than are a number of others. What I can say is that of the four recordings of the score with which I’m familiar, Järvi’s would now be my first choice, and taking all other factors into account—superb playing by the Bergen Philharmonic, James Ehnes’s beguiling solo violin contributions, and a killer recording—I’d extrapolate from this that Järvi’s Swan Lake is now the one to have.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Elman made two commercial recordings of the Tchaikovsky Concerto. The first, with Barbirolli in 1929, has seldom been out of the catalogue in one form or another. The second dates from an LPO session with Boult in 1954 and is much less well known. But dating from December 1945 comes this live Boston/Paray traversal that catches the great violinist still on the right side of physical infirmity and a gradual but inexorable waning of powers. These latter do manifest themselves in particular ways in the companion concerto, the Mendelssohn.

In terms of structure the Boston performance of the Tchaikovsky differs little from the 1929 traversal; the timings for the first movement are in fact almost identical though there are differences in matters of thematic emphasis, metrical displacements, vibrato usage and phrasal elasticity. This is still however, very recognisably, the master tonalist of old, one who imbued every phrase with lavish intensity and a throbbing, molten vivacity. He brings intense concentration and expressive shading to his opening rhetorical statement and the Elmanesque rubato that no-one could quite match. He is very slow and highly romanticised; the orchestral pizzicati that point the rhythm are delayed an age as a result. Elman lavishes prayerful simplicity after the cadenza and his voluptuous vibrato takes on an ever more devastating candour. Behind him the Boston winds are highly characterful and though there is some crunch and other such aural damage (especially in tuttis) it will detain only the pickiest of listener. Elman is not quite certain in his passagework at the end of the movement – though the harmonics are negotiated well enough – but one can hear how eventful and tactful is Tchaikovsky’s orchestration when a fine conductor is in charge clarifying lines. The orchestra emerge newly distinctive in the slow movement – flute and clarinet principals especially. Elman’s phrasing rises and falls, ever more rapturous and involved, his line taking on more and more a sense of direction, the orchestral string blending under Paray of real distinction. In the finale the orchestral accents are commensurately strong; this is the one movement where the excitement of a live performance impels Elman to a fleeter performance than his earlier commercial recording though oddly it’s not necessarily more overpoweringly exciting.

The Tchaikovsky is a reminder of Elman’s eminence; in the first decade of the century it was he who was the most fêted of young fiddlers and the Tchaikovsky was for a decade or more "his" concerto. The Mendelssohn dates from November 1953. His slightly earlier commercial recording with Defauw and the Chicago Symphony has always been highly regarded whilst the twilight Vanguard session in Vienna that produced the later disc, with the State Opera Orchestra under Golschmann has not. Again Elman’s overall conception changed little and the difference in timings between Mitropoulos and Golschmann are negligible. Elman is perhaps guilty of some rough playing in the opening movement of the Concerto; some rather inelegant expressive pointing is another particular feature (but how irrepressibly Elman it sounds). With the highlighting comes a rather static introspection and an equally glutinous tonal projection that can too dramatically personalise the line. Nevertheless against this one can cite the finger position changes that remind one of the old lion and the beautiful strands of lyrical weight he can and does lavish – even if the vibrato itself is now slowing and the tempos ossifying somewhat in terms of phrasal interconnectedness. In the Andante he no longer possesses the elfin projection or sense of relaxation that the greatest interpreters of this work bring to it (if indeed he ever really did – his recording with Defauw, though of course highly personalised, was highly impressive). He does rather distend the movement (to 7.50). He is jaunty and unmotoric in the finale; he never used it as a piece of showmanship as other, less scrupulous colleagues did. He also makes a couple of fluffs on the lower strings but these are minor details – even if the final bars are rather grandiosely emphatic.

The recordings have been handled with skill; the attendant problems are really insignificant ones and won’t be in any way problematic. As one who welcomes anything by Elman, no matter how minor, these major live performances have a still compelling part to play in expanding and widening the Elman discography; that they are ancillary to the main body of his recordings is undeniable but wise heads will want to hear them and reflect on Elman’s place in the hierarchy of great violinists.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

IDIGITAL:MARCH SLAVE

Recorded in: Moscow

TOSCANINI COLLECTION VOL 18 -

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BR‐Klassik presents the 2014 live recording from Munich's Philharmonie im Gasteig of the semi‐staged performance of Tchaikovsky's late masterpiece “Pique Dame”, or “The Queen of Spades”. In its long history as a concert orchestra, the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra has also devoted itself on numerous occasions to opera, under such eminent conductors as Rafael Kubelik and Leonard Bernstein. Chief conductor Mariss Jansons also maintains this tradition, for example with concert performances of Russian operas such as “Eugene Onegin”. With great connoisseurship, Maestro Jansons assembled a group of singers for this performance, sung in the original Russian, who are all native speakers of the language, and very familiar with the work, including Misha Didyk as Herman, Tatiana Serjan as Lisa, and Alexey Markov as Prince Yeletsky.

The works on this disc represent some of Boris Tchaikovsky's finest orchestral music, and the release marks the start of a mini-series of Boris Tchaikovsky's historical recordings which will feature some major Russian artists. These recordings from the 1980s, two of which are premieres, are here released for the first time.

"Nowhere does the CD make clear whether these performances were recorded before live concert audiences in Birmingham Symphony Hall on October 16–17, 2008; but, in concert or not, this is one of the more spectacular sounding symphonic recordings to come my way in some time. The dynamic range is awesome, and I’m pretty sure that for the first time I heard details of Tchaikovsky’s scoring, even in the most densely orchestrated passages, that I’ve never heard before.

It’s been such a long time since I last listened to Tchaikovsky’s Hamlet Overture, I’d forgotten what a seething cauldron of a witch’s brew it’s able to stir up. Part Romeo and Juliet and part Francesca da Rimini, the piece grew out of an invitation the composer received to write incidental music for a production of Shakespeare’s play. The project fizzled, but Tchaikovsky decided to put his efforts to good use in a concert overture cum fantasia that, had it been presented as an actual curtain raiser, would probably have upstaged the play it was intended to introduce. I mean, whoever heard of a 19-minute bombast-filled overture? There’s little in the way of musical storytelling or depiction of the play’s characters; and the big, heart-throbbing melody one expects from Tchaikovsky, atypically, never quite materializes. Rather, the work is more of a psychological study in the moods, motivations, and states of mind of the dramatis personae, most of which and for most of the time are angry and highly agitated. The Hamlet Overture makes for a logical discmate in that chronologically it’s exactly contemporaneous with the Fifth Symphony; both works claim 1888 as their date of origin. Again, as with the Symphony, Nelsons turns out a fantastic performance...He whips up the proceedings to quite a frenzied pitch; so, if you like loud and exciting passages to be really loud and exciting, Nelsons and the CBSO will not disappoint."

-- Jerry Dubins, Fanfare [1/2010]

Also available on Blu-ray

Christian Spuck puts the literary origin at the heart of his choreography of “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King”, emphasizing the fantastical nature of the original rather than the delightful Christmas fairytale and bringing back the tale of princess Pirlipat, who turns into a nut monster, as told by E.T.A. Hoffmann. On stage, Drosselmeier’s workshop turns into an old revue-theater, where the ballet’s characters come to life. Spuck’s choreography plays with the richness of characters in Hoffmann’s narrative cosmos, the absurdity and overwrought humor that inhabit them, while at the same time looking down into the dark abyss of Romanticism. This production was recorded at the Opernhaus Zürich April 2018

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

This Blu-ray Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard DVD players.

Also available on standard DVD

Christian Spuck puts the literary origin at the heart of his choreography of “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King”, emphasizing the fantastical nature of the original rather than the delightful Christmas fairytale and bringing back the tale of princess Pirlipat, who turns into a nut monster, as told by E.T.A. Hoffmann. On stage, Drosselmeier’s workshop turns into an old revue-theater, where the ballet’s characters come to life. Spuck’s choreography plays with the richness of characters in Hoffmann’s narrative cosmos, the absurdity and overwrought humor that inhabit them, while at the same time looking down into the dark abyss of Romanticism. This production was recorded at the Opernhaus Zürich April 2018

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*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

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TCHAIKOVSKY WORKS

TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 2 in c, “Little Russian.” Variations on a Rococo Theme1. String Quartet No. 1 in D: Andante cantabile • Dmitri Kitaenko, cond; 1Leonard Elschenbroich (vc); Cologne Guerzenich O • OEHMS 669 (SACD: 62:56)

As of early February 2013, here is the status of the four major ongoing Tchaikovsky symphony cycles.



Poppen Reviewed Reviewer Kitaenko Reviewed Reviewer

1 34:3 Dubins 1 36:3 Dubins

2 36:1 Morrison/Bayley 2 36:6 Dubins

3 36:1 Morrison/Bayley 5 35:6 Dubins

4 33:3 Dubins 6 35:1 Morrison

6 35:4 Dubins

Pletnev Reviewed Reviewer Jurowski Reviewed Reviewer

1 35:6 Dubins/Grames 1 33:4 Dubins

2 36:2 Dubins 4 36:4 Dubins

3 36:4 Dubins 5 36:4 Dubins

4 34:6 Pomeroy 6 33:4 Dubins

5 35:3 Rabinowitz

6 35:3 Dubins

Notes:

(1) Thus far, only Pletnev’s cycle is complete. Poppen’s is close, with only the Symphony No. 5 left to go. If a symphony number is absent from one of the above tables, it means that that symphony has not yet appeared as of this writing.

(2) Of the four cycles, two are on SACD—Pletnev’s on PentaTone and Kitaenko’s on Oehms.

(3) One label is competing against itself—the Kitaenko and Poppen cycles are both on Oehms, but only the former is available in SACD format.

(4) For the sake of consistency, I’ve adopted the spelling of Dmitri Kitaenko’s name as it appears in the Fanfare Archive, but the Oehms discs give his name as Kitajenko, and I’ve encountered it elsewhere as Kitayenko.

(5) As is clear from the above tables, the overwhelming majority of these releases have been assigned to me. I’ve enjoyed the assignments because I’m a fan of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies—well, most of them, anyway—but I wish that more of my colleagues could have submitted reviews of these releases as well; for I, and the reader, I’m sure, would be interested to learn if others share or disagree with my conclusions.

For the most part, I’ve favored Pletnev for his dramatically charged readings, for the superb playing of the Russian National Orchestra, and for PentaTone’s exceptionally dynamic recordings. But what I call dramatically charged, others might call volatile and over the top. I’ve also criticized PentaTone for its rather ungenerous fillers.

Between Poppen and Jurowski the only question is which one I prefer less than the other. Both conductors and their respective orchestras—the London Philharmonic for Jurowski and the Southwest German Radio Orchestra for Poppen—have their strong points, among which are solid and secure playing in even-tempered, articulate performances and first-rate recorded sound. But relistening to them in preparation for this review, I found my original conclusions confirmed. There’s nothing exceptional in Poppen or Jurowski’s readings to make them standouts in the crowd. Then too, of the four cycles under discussion, these are the two that are not in SACD. A few years ago that wouldn’t have mattered; the recordings would have been considered state-of-the-art. But Tchaikovsky is one of music’s greatest orchestrators, and the subtleties and myriad details of his orchestration really benefit from well-engineered multichannel recordings.

So, here we are with Kitaenko’s fourth installment in his cycle, Tchaikovsky’s “Little Russian” Symphony, the No. 2. As I’ve had occasion to opine before, it’s a tossup, as far as I’m concerned, as to which is the weakest of the composer’s symphonies, the No. 2 or the No. 3. Kitaenko actually makes a stronger case for No. 2, I believe, than does Pletnev, the only other No. 2 out of the four above cycles I’ve reviewed. Kitaenko’s first movement is slower by only 33 seconds—11:29 vs. 10:56—but that slightly slower tempo gives the performance a feeling of being tighter, more disciplined, and better controlled. Pletnev drives the movement harder, which, in comparison, makes it sound a bit wild-eyed. In Kitaenko’s hands, the remaining three movements are slower too, considerably so in fact, such that his overall timing for the symphony is 36:07 compared to Pletnev’s 31:47. That’s really a significant difference. For the most part, I do think Kitaenko’s slower tempos work to the advantage of this particular score. Tearing through it the way Pletnev does only further trivializes its already subpar inspiration.

Here comes the hard choice. Complementing the symphony on Kitaenko’s disc is Tchaikovsky’s Variations on a Rococo Theme, welcome for its brilliant performance by young, London-based cellist Leonard Elschenbroich who plays the magnificent “Leonard Rose” cello made by Venetian luthier, Matteo Goffriller. Unfortunately, Elschenbroich chooses to perform the defiled Wilhelm Fitzenhagen version of the score, as so many cellists do. In a nutshell, Tchaikovsky entrusted Fitzenhagen, a professor at the Moscow Conservatory, to edit and fine-tune the cello part. In the composer’s absence, the emboldened professor performed a sorcerer’s apprentice repair job on the vehicle, connecting the windshield wipers to the exhaust pipe. When the sorcerer returned from abroad, he was so shocked and disgusted by what Fitzenhagen had done that he washed his hands of the whole thing, exclaiming, “Let the devil take it; let it stay as it is.” And for the most part it has.

Beyond the minor changes to dynamics and phrasing, Fitzenhagen reduced the number of variations from eight to seven and moved the third variation, along with the cadenza that precedes it and the Allegro that follows it, to the very end of the work. This resulted in two variations of similar character being juxtaposed, a problem Fitzenhagen solved by removing the last variation and tacking its closing paragraphs on to the concluding Allegro vivace. What possessed him to do all of this is not clear, but Tchaikovsky’s exasperated “let it stay as it is” has been taken by many, if not most, modern cellists as license for performing Fitzenhagen’s hatchet job. If you would like to hear the piece the way Tchaikovsky originally wrote it, I can recommend Julian Lloyd Webber’s Philips recording with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Maxim Shostakovich.

The thing is that Elschenbroich’s performance of the work on this disc is really outstanding, which, in part, is what makes the choice between this new Kitaenko release and Pletnev’s a difficult one, for Pletnev offers as a filler for his Tchaikovsky Second the composer’s original first movement to the symphony, which the composer majorly revised a number of years later. The revised version is the standard form in which the symphony is performed today, so it’s instructive to be able to hear Tchaikovsky’s original thoughts.

The current Oehms album concludes with a souped-up version of the famous Andante cantabile movement from Tchaikovsky’s D-Major String quartet in what sounds like an arrangement for solo cello and string orchestra. My guess is that Elschenbroich plays the cello part while the orchestra’s strings play the violin and viola parts, but the cellist is placed so far forward and is so dominant that for much of the time it’s hard to tell what the strings are playing, or if they’re playing at all.

Decisions, decisions. I prefer Kitaenko’s way with the Second Symphony to Pletnev’s, and I’m very impressed by Elschenbroich’s Rococo Variations, though I wish he’d have opted for Tchaikovsky’s original version. On the other hand, Pletnev’s inclusion of the Second Symphony’s original first movement is a valuable addition to his disc. As for the respective orchestras and recordings, both make an equally visceral impact. I suppose the only advice I can offer you is to acquire them both. FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite - Weber: Invitation to the

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Three romantic heroes each with a solitary destiny: Tatiana, a Romanesque young woman seeking absolution, Onegin, a distant dandy hiding emptiness under affected haughtiness, and Lenski, abandoned by his literary idol. Between these three, barren affections presage the inexorable social ruin. All the resources of the Bolshoi Theatre of Moscow are brought to bear to ensure this opera performance is exceptional evening of theatre and song: a vocal line-up of the highest order with notably the baritone Mariusz Kwiecien and the Bolshoi Orchestra and Chorus conducted by Alexander Vedernikov. With a stage setting as sombre as it is effective - a great dining table appears in the middle of a salon - the director Dmitri Tcherniakov separates two different worlds and lends the drama a clarity rarely reached. The exceptional quality of this production, and the great success encountered by its first edition, inevitably led to the remastering in high-definition of this program to celebrate the 10th anniversary of its original release.

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