NAPOLEON, BLOWN APART
By SHIRLEY FLEMING
Dmitri Hvorostovsky in "War and Peace" at the Met.
February 16, 2002
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OPERA REVIEW
PROKOFIEV'S gargantuan mid-'40s opera, "War and Peace,"
opened at the Metropolitan Opera on Thursday in its company
premiere in the kind of blockbuster production Tolstoy's great
tale of the Napoleonic Wars
demands.
The production is shared with St. Petersburg's Mariinsky Theatre,
which clearly was not about to shortchange Russia's most renowned
novelist. Cannons thunder, lightning flashes, women are raped,
soldiers are bayoneted, unnumbered regiments clash across the
stage. On a superb white horse, Napoleon surveys the wreckage.
Such was the pandemonium of war that on Thursday, one overzealous
"soldier" - French, suitably enough - fell into the
orchestra pit. (No harm done: Met general manager Joseph Volpe
brought him on stage at the end, looking sheepish, and he got a
round of applause.) The opera, like the novel, balances the
intimate with the grandiose.
Prokofiev devotes roughly the first two hours to the love story of Natasha and Prince Andrei, and the surrounding glamour of aristocratic social life (sumptuously depicted here), and the final segment - nearly as long - to the war. It makes for an uneven evening, as the female characters disappear for the most part after intermission, and they are missed. Still, this remarkably strong cast, which included many Russians, never let the tension lapse.
Unquestionably, the star of the evening, in her Metropolitan
debut, was soprano Anna Netrebko, an Audrey Hepburn look-alike
who delivered an enchanting Natasha in all her freshness,
wistfulness, petulance and vulnerability. The voice could soar or
drop to a whisper; it was a beautifully rounded portrayal.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky conveyed the philosophical remoteness of
Prince Andrei with a fine sense of naturalness, and Samuel Ramey
was an imposing presence as the Russian commander Kutuzov,
although the voice sounded a bit worn in his long soliloquy
toward the opera's end. Gegam Grigorian took the role of Pierre,
singing well, if failing to project the personal appeal inherent
in Tolstoy's affectionate portrayal. Conductor Valery Gergiev led
a no-holds-barred performance.
(C) The New York Post, 2002