Tchaikovsky
Mazeppa – Opera in three Acts to a libretto by Victor Brenin after Pushkin’s poem Poltava [sung in Russian with English surtitles]
Mazeppa – David Stout
Kochubey – Luciano Batinic
Lyubov – Sara Fulgoni
Mariya – Rachel Nicholls
Andrei – John Findon
Orlik – Andreas Jankowitsch
Iskra – Sam Utley
Drunken Cossack – Benjie del Rosario
The Grange Festival Chorus
Orchestra of English National Opera
Mark Shanahan
David Pountney – Director
Francis O’Connor – Designer
Tim Mitchell – Lighting designer
Lynne Hockney – Choreographer
Reviewed by: Curtis Rogers
Reviewed: 28 June, 2025
Venue: The Theatre in the Woods, West Horsley Place, Surrey
Ivan Mazeppa (or Mazepa) was hetman (regional governor) of Ukraine towards the end of the 17th century, initially enjoying the support of Peter the Great, before throwing in his lot with Sweden against the rest of Russia. As such he has been hailed (and vilified) as a proto-freedom fighter for Ukrainian independence.
The parallel with events today hardly needs drawing out, and David Pountney doesn’t labour it in his new production for Grange Park. It opens in a dark, tense atmosphere, in what we assume is a generalised historical period. However, that isn’t to create a false sense of security before anything as sensational as the infamous chainsaw concept of his previous production for English National Opera back in the 1980s, though the dungeon scene is graphic enough (with Mazeppa’s imprisoned opponent and would-be father-in-law Kochubey having his eyes gouged out). But, with a twinkle in his own astute dramaturgical eye, Pountney still finds room for some provocation and sardonic humour. A collage of images and objects bandied around during the symphonic interlude in Act One tethers the drama to recent decades in Soviet/Russian/Ukrainian history, before a long-haired, leather-clad Mazeppa rides in on a motorbike, like a punk rock countercultural hero. Appearances aside, the production elicits from David Stout an eloquent and often thoughtful introspection in his performance, especially in his long monologue in the middle of Act Two (which, here, comes straight after the interval, and makes for a sobering, well-structured resumption of the drama).
The tragedy of armed conflict is the cause for other acerbic, surreal humour: the war dead (from the Battle of Poltava) in Act Three are brought on in coffins but rise out of them in soldierly uniform and gas masks and perform a macabre dance, before returning to the coffins. When Mazeppa’s lover Maria arrives in the ensuing scene, out of her mind, the wrapped-up blanket she carries holds only a clump of ashes rather than the baby we might expect, though it prepares the mood for the opera’s lyrical conclusion with her lullaby over Andrei’s dead body, the man her father Kochubey had intended that she should marry.
A subdued but unmistakable tension is sustained throughout the opera’s near three-hour duration, both in the choreography between the characters and in the score, but it all winds down logically and cathartically in that lullaby. Mark Shanahan leads the ENO Orchestra in a probing account of the music that resists making instant, bold effects but holds its broader structure in view, whether in the orchestral interludes or the sung scenes. The often-lucid timbre engages the attention.
Countering Mazeppa’s generally calm authority are the powerful, but not strident performances from Luciano Batinic and Rachel Nicholls as Kochubey and Mariya respectively, the latter striking a vivid contrast between her generally assertive character, and the moving restraint of her lullaby. As her mother, Lyubov, Sara Fulgoni is darkly focused, expressing determined purpose. A nasal tinge from John Findon somewhat compromises Andrei’s striving character, though Benjie del Rosario’s Drunken Cossack is deliciously outlandish. This wonderful opportunity to see a powerful opera, even if the last Act sprawls, and regardless of any contemporary political resonances.