Boris Godunov at Aotea Centre

Reviewed by WILLIAM DART

The NBR New Zealand Opera has just achieved what might have seemed impossible - a homegrown Boris Godunov.

Director Matthew Richardson gave Mussorgsky's opera the cut and thrust of alt.theatre - laid out through the eyes and commentaries of the monk Pimen.

The old man typed away through the opening prelude, and the later scenes, introduced by his unscrolling type, often had the urgency of a CNN scoop.

As part of the ingenious Soviet bureau update, the Aotea stage was dominated by Giles Cadle's resourceful set of two criss-crossing ramps, recalling the brutalist architecture of '60s Russia.

There were imposing tableaux, the most thrilling being the lowering of the huge marble coronation medallion (albeit cut short by an over-eager curtain); the most chilling when the churchmen took their place in a line-up of military men.

There was spectacle, too, with the lustily voiced chorus, whether trudging up the ramps or clustering together in a mass of outstretched arms.

While movement director Patrik Sorling played a part in the chorus' success, it was Richardson's skill which illuminated the more intimate scenes, particularly those between Pimen and Grigor, and Boris and his family.

The mighty Vladimir Matorin was Boris. The full wonder of his vocal and theatrical skill was revealed in Scene 5, where he shifted, within minutes, from solicitous father to tormented murderer.

Here was a dramatic truth that would have had Stanislavsky's approval, and a vocal subtlety that could have transferred to a lieder recital.

The closing scene belonged to Boris, too, in this original 1869 version of the work, and, as the great man broke apart, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop on the Aotea carpet.

Apart from Matorin, the casting was local and even the youngest singers were top-notch. Brendon Mercer's Missail revealed an unexpected talent for knockabout farce, and Paul Chappory's Simpleton rose above a bizarre costume to touch hearts.

Jud Arthur as Varlaam, that feisty "monk of the road", was at his very best, having a field day with his bloodthirsty Ballad of Kazan.

Richard Greager, who has so often been the company comic, brought a Cold War chill to commissar Shuisky.

Returning to New Zealand from his American successes, Simon O'Neill was a stirring, heroic Grigory and Grant Dickson's carefully measured Pimen embodied the many sorrows of beleaguered Russia.

The production judiciously added a few moments from Mussorgsky's 1872 revision to give women cast members more to do.

Helen Medlyn was almost unrecognisable as the Innkeeper and made much (perhaps a little too much) of her duck number. Jenny Wollerman was a tragic Slavic princess as Xenia, and Flora Edwards' gamy Nurse threatened to steal the show for a while in Scene 5.

If Kristen Darragh's Fydor is any indication of the talent this company is nurturing, then New Zealand opera is in excellent hands.

Add to all this our splendid Auckland Philharmonia, competing bravely with boisterous bevies of recorded bells, and conducted by the masterly Nicholas Braithwaite, and it was an evening to remember.

If you miss it, you're missing history - not of Russia, but of Auckland theatre.