Dmitri Shostakovich, The Nose (1928)

HOLY CRUD, PEOPLE. Let me tell you about this production. I'm sure it's not the most expensive one I've ever seen--certainly not with those Ring operas--but damned if it isn't the most elaborate and impressive. It was designed by the South African artist William Kentridge, and It involves collages of Soviet newspapers and who knows what all along with a combination of film and stop-motion shadow puppetry to create something the likes of which I've never seen before. I can't imagine what it would be like to see this live; there are parts where I am genuinely unable to conceptualize how this would look in person. One is drowning in words and images in a way of which I hope Shostakovich would have approved.

To me, it certainly seems the perfect marriage of scene and text. As you know, this is loosely based on Gogol's short story (with bits culled from a number of other seminal Russian works); I must admit that I've never read it, but you know what they say: the opera is always better than the short story. And here, it seems to me that the chaotic production is a great complement to the bureaucratic satire of the text.

I will admit it: there's not exactly a lot of what you would call "heart" here, but that seems unimportant, because what is here is just amazing in its own right. Shostakovich's score is, as in Lady Macbeth,spectacular. The fact that he wrote this when he was in his early twenties only doesn't seem mind-blowing because Mozart wrecked the curve. Under the circumstances, the singers themselves seem almost irrelevant. There isn't much in the way of show-stopping arias here; again, that is not the goal. Still, Paulo Szot gives an appropriate air of haplessness to the petty bureaucrat Kovalyov whose nose takes on a life of its own (though one has to note that he very definitely has a nose throughout the entire opera. Is that how it's always done? Not that it bothered me, but you'd think there would be some signifier of his noselessness). The rest of the cast--a lot of Russian nationals--is also great. What did you expect?

And, you know, I say it lacks heart, but that depends on how you define the term, doesn't it? The characters may not be much, but the artistry is still inspiring, and that's a kind of heart too. I've gotta tell you: in these grim times, taking refuge in high art is one of the things--possibly the main thing?--that helps me stay sane. We must remind ourselves: as unbelievably awful as we humans frequently are, we're also capable of transcendent greatness. I hope that's enough to absolve us as a species in the final judgment. The fact that Shostakovich was prevented from writing more operas by an insanely irrational Soviet government is a crime. One of many, of course, but still. I don't want to cause any controversy here, but I'll go ahead and say it: Stalin sucked. He was not a good leader! Crucify me for speaking the truth and give me a high-paying sinecure if you will!