Khovantschina

The Russian film industry has mobilized vast resources to bring Moussorgsky's unfinished opera Khovantschina to the screen, but it has confused further what is already a confused affair.

Moussorgsky left the orchestration of this work even less complete than that of Boris, and the plot is far more complicated and considerably less powerful than that of his earlier chef d'oeuvre. A production of it is therefore obliged, musically and dramatically, to take the utmost care to clear up the murk caused by its incompleteness and intricacy.

Instead of doing this, the filmmakers have contented themselves with a series of unnatural color effects, that are clearly derived from the color sequences of Eisenstein's Ivan the Terrible, Part 2, but lack his incisive organization and satiric overtones.

Furthermore, the singers are encouraged to wear makeup so similar that it becomes almost impossible to distinguish between them, especially between the Czarina's spy, the antagonists, and Prince Golitzin.

Because we don't quite know on sight who is who, we soon begin to lose the threads of the sloppily woven plot. Briefly stated, the opera tells of the rivalry between the princes Khovansky and Golitzin and their attempt to usurp the throne.

Regrettably, two sub-plots constantly break through the surface. One tells of the love of Khovansky's weak-willed son Andrei for Emma and his ex-fiance's enduring passion for him. Martha, his ex-betrothed, interrupts him with a persistence equalled only by that of Donna Elvira.

The other sub-plot, which is partially justified by some noble writing for the bass-baritone, tells of Father Dossifey and his attempt to win peace and prosperity for his flock. In the end, the Czarina--at least, I think it's the Czarina--has him killed for reasons best known to herself.

As an introduction to the opera's music, be forewarned that the singers, all from the Bolshoi Opera Company, while generally competent, lack greatness. The tenors, Golitzin and Andrei, are sung by men with light voices that are just barely under control. Khovansky and Dossifey are handled by baritones of first rank and musical sensitivity who make the most of the eloquent passages that occasionally come their way.

However, all the singers act with the same hamminess that prevails in all too many opera houses throughout the world. It looks silly enough in the opera house, but becomes positively ludicrous when magnified on a large screen.

The orchestra, also that of the Bolshoi, plays its delicate preludes quite capably under the direction of E. Svetlanov, but lapses into a fuzzy lassitude throughout the rest of the work.

In closing, let me forewarn balletomaines that though Maya Plisetskaya, second only to Ulanov in the Bolshoi Ballet, does make an appearance, it is a very short one. For 75 seconds, she dances through a droopily choreographed pastiche of ballet and burlesque. She does not, for quite understandable reasons, seem at all interested in the shoddy proceedings.