Oligarchs and Kossacks unite, for the Royal Opera House has a treat in store for all those with a penchant for exquisite Russian music. Pyotr Tchaikosvky, renowned for his fine symphonies and ballets (Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, and The Sleeping Beauty – currently showing at the Royal Opera House), was a composer of great depth and variety.

His fifth and most celebrated opera, Eugene Onegin, returns to Covent Garden and weaves together the charms of rural life and the fashionable St Petersburg imperial court, allowing the audience to clearly experience the tensions between the contrasting worlds of peasants and princes, which form the psychological fabric of the opera. But first, Vanessa Threapleton-Horrocks gazes to the east, beyond the EU boundaries, to discover a little bit more about that distinctive Russian psyche…

Russia evokes a sense of austerity married with intricate grandeur – consider Moscow’s Grand Kremlin Palace (now seat of the Russian Federation’s Government), St Basil’s Cathedral with its multi-coloured Quality Street-esque domes, and St Petersburg’s The Hermitage (formally the Romanov’s Winter Palace ) – and a vastness, (aside from its generous share of mineral wealth and billionaires) augmented by extreme bands of wilderness: from the Taiga forest in the extreme north, to the Great Steppe country in the south-west, with the lofty Caucasus and ancient Ural mountain ranges separating the European and Asian lands. There is certainly something epic to behold in a country which spans 11 time zones and accommodates the most expensive city in the world ( Moscow ) alongside the largest forest reserves. Surely such a background prepares a composer to write a grand theme for an opera…
Why then did Pyotr Tchaikovsky, writing during the extravagant reign of the Russian Tsars, feel the time was right to experiment with a very different kind of operatic approach?

Considering the grand canvass of the opera world, it is difficult to conceive of anything less than pomp and pageantry, furnished with sumptuous sets in the realms of fantasy (Mozart’s Die Zauberfloete, Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffman), mythology (Wagner’s Ring Cycle, Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas) or describing the tales of Egyptian kings and queens. The music itself is stately, colourful, sonorous, and highly charged; the venues, correspondingly opulent and grand. In Russia , great pride was invested in entertaining the people with their own patriotic stories of civil battles and national marches, of Tsars and Tsarinas. Tchaikovsky acquiesced this need in his early operatic works with limited success, but he decided that selecting a down-to-earth story with realism of character and content was his goal, even though he knew that his ambitions were going against the grain of national expectation.

Eugene Onegin, the narrative poem by Alexander Pushkin, hailed as the greatest Russian poet, was recommended by a professional singer acquaintance in May 1877. At first, Tchaikovsky thought it unsuitable material for an opera, until he reached Tatyana’s Letter Scene, and from then on, he was hooked, almost immediately setting the scene to music.

Tchaikovsky and Pushkin had much in common, aside from their artistic endeavours. Both were members of the minor gentry, found it awkward to function in social settings and could be described as outsiders ultimately punished for their beliefs: Pushkin for his outspokenness on religion and politics – his time in exile resulted in the creation of his greatest work, Eugene Onegin - whilst Tchaikovsky’s largely indiscreet homosexual tendencies – such relations were viewed as a cardinal offence in Tsarist Russia and punishable by death – were always in grave danger of tipping the balance against his favour. In fact, a school of thought believe his mysterious death has more to do with an honorary suicide than contracting cholera from unboiled water, as the official line states.

Tchaikovsky too, composed his most popular material during a turbulent point in his life. The opera was written in an eight-month period covering the engagement to a former pupil, Antonina Milyukova, whose courtship bears an uncanny parallel to the workings of the Onegin story – Tchaikovsky received a letter from Antonina confessing her love for him, hoping it may enhance his moral standing in society, they married soon after. Unfortunately, the marriage was a disaster and they separated just nine weeks after, leaving the composer suicidal. He suffered from a nervous breakdown before rehabilitation commenced abroad in Clarins, Switzerland.

Tchaikovsky finished the score in February 1878, and in a cautious move guessing the public reaction to farmers and peasants dancing and singing on stage as opposed to the grander characters and stories expected, described his new work as "Lyrical Scenes in Three Acts", not an opera thus justifying its humble beginnings. In fact, Tchaikovsky delivered strict instructions that the premiere in March 1879 should utilise students from the Moscow Conservatory, not fully-seasoned opera divas; a slimmed down orchestra; and the smaller, more understated Maly Theatre was chosen as the venue, snubbing the very grand Bolshoi.

But it wasn’t long before Tchaikovsky’s newest and most original opera, with a few necessary and conventional tweaks (e.g. incorporating the ecossaise (formal dance) in the St Petersburg ball scene in the final act) to ensure its longevity and ultimate immortality, gleaned the plaudits and the popularity it deserved. Its fame quickly reached other European opera houses and it is documented that the composer was amused by a German interpretation of the opera in Hamburg , impressively conducted with zest by the young Gustav Mahler. Ever since, it has established itself firmly in the operatic pantheon.

This is the first revival of the late Stephen Pimlott’s March 2006 production directed by Elaine Kidd for the Royal Opera House. Pimlott’s vision sought to portray the opera through the eyes of its heroine, Tatyana Larin, by galvanising Tchaikovsky’s opera with yet further poetic references from Pushkin, including elements of Tatyana’s eerie dream depicting strange bestial and childlike creatures, representing her psychological development and hinting at the rite of passage transition from girl to adulthood.

Anthony McDonald’s set constructs a stark world with minimum fuss in interiors and furnishings yet gilded with lavish touches – from an inspiringly stately scene for Tatyana’s name-day celebrations filled with colourful, rich 1820’s costumes for the chorus - and sacrificing stage space for a pond in the opening morning scenes with singing youths on the Larin estate, later reflected by a frozen lake dotted with flares in the evening closing scenes in St Petersburg. Here, Prince Gremin’s court assembles on the ice-rink instead of the more formal (and conventional) ballroom scene. Meanwhile, from the pit, the gravity and splendour of Tchaikovsky’s score pleasingly punctuates the on-stage action.

The popular and experienced Canadian baritone, Gerald Finley, takes the title role. He has previously provided the Royal Opera House with excellent Figaro and Count Almaviva roles in Le Nozze di Figaro and here he brings both the virile arrogance of a (serious) Figaro together with the aristocratic formalities of a Count Almaviva to his scorching performance as Eugene Onegin.

The authentic Slavic voice is found in Marina Poplavskaya’s elegant rendition of Tatyana (who shares the role with her fellow compatriot, Hibla Gerzmava, during the run), the moral, bookish provincial girl whose celebrated Letter Scene (Act I Scene II) is the heart of the opera, convincingly pours out her adolescent first flushes of love for Onegin in both a hesitant yet impulsive manner, by turns.

Polish tenor, Piotr Beczala, sings the poet Lensky whose ardent avowals of love for the vivacious tease, Olga (Ekaterina Semenchuk) are believable but he lacks the intense passion to create a more striking build-up to the fateful duel against Onegin. But the final aria of note belongs to Tatyana’s husband, the dignified and warm Prince Gremin performed by the towering German bass, Hans-Peter Koenig. Koenig made his debut at the Royal Opera House earlier this season playing Sarastro in Mozart’s Die Zauberfloete. Despite his sheer size and thundering low tones, there was great delicacy and feeling in his Hymn to Love (Act III, Scene I) which touched hearts well beyond the stage.

Here in London , Tchaikovksy’s pure and simple vision has been found and beautifully brought to life.