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Fiennes’s Authentic Onegin Paris
Opéra Bastille
01/26/2026 - & January 29, February 1, 6*, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21, 24, 27, 2026
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin, Opus 24
Ruzan Mantashyan (Tatyana), Boris Pinkhasovich (Eugene Onegin), Bogdan Volkov (Lensky), Marvic Monreal (Olga), Alexander Tsymbalyuk (Prince Gremin), Eva Susan Graham (Larina), Elena Zaremba (Filipyevna), Peter Bronder (M. Triquet), Amin Ahangaran (Zaretsky), Mikhail Silantev (Captain)
Chœurs de l’Opéra national de Paris, Ching Lien-Wu (chorus master), Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris, Semyon Bychkov*/Case Scaglione (conductor)
Ralph Fiennes (director), Michael Levin (sets), Annemarie Woods (costumes), Alessandro Carletti (lighting), Sophie Laplane (choreography)
B. Volkov (© Guergana_Damianova/Opéra national de Paris)
Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin is the composer’s most popular opera and arguably the most popular Russian opera in the entire repertoire. This is understandable, as it’s rich in melody, emotionally engaging arias and wonderfully orchestrated dances (Act II’s Waltz and Act III’s Polonaise). It also affords the set designer a dazzling ball in Act III, a more modest Saint’s Day party in Act II, scenes in the Russian countryside, as well as a memorable letter scene, where Tatyana pours her heart out in an unprecedented declaration of love.
It’s loosely based on Pushkin’s verse‑novel about a blasé nobleman’s tribulations due to his dispassionate view of life. The opera emphasizes Tatyana, the young dreamy provincial, who’s smitten at first sight with Onegin, only to be patronizingly rebuffed. Slightly less prominent than the two protagonists is Lensky, a poet and Onegin’s best friend that the latter kills in a duel provoked by his cavalier flirtation with Olga (Tatyana’s sister, who’s also Lensky’s fiancée). As such, Onegin affords huge possibilities for singers and directors. Indeed, two of today’s most brilliant directors have produced interpretations of the work: Robert Carsen, for New York’s MET, Toronto and other venues, and Christoph Loy, for Madrid. Unlike other works, which can alter epoch and place, Eugene Onegin is inextricably linked to early nineteenth century Imperial Russia (it’s notable that Loy transposed the action – without specifying details – to an Ingmar Bergman-inspired setting, a Nordic location nonetheless).
British actor-director Ralph Fiennes, admired for his performance in such films as Schindler’s List (1993), The English Patient (1996), The Constant Gardner (2005), In Bruges (2008), The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) and Conclave (2024), has an obvious affinity for Russian culture. He played the title role in the film Onegin (1999), directed by his sister Martha Fiennes, and he directed the film The White Crow (2018), about Rudolf Nureyev where he played – in Russian – his teacher.
Fiennes’s production, more than any seen in the last decades, captured the Russian sensibility inherent in the opera. As someone with a love of this culture who’s also thoroughly researched it, his take on Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece is sincere and authentic. Firstly, he chose impeccable collaborators, such as Canada’s Michael Levin, frequent set designer for Robert Carsen, including in his memorable staging of Onegin; costume designer Annemarie Woods, a frequent collaborator with such directors as Ted Huffman; and lighting designer Alessandro Carletti, Damiano Michieletto’s associate. The result was even better than I’d hoped.
Fiennes and Levin opted for simplicity and minimalist, though appealing, sets. A visual leitmotif was the Russian forest with its leafless birch trees; this was to appear constantly throughout the first two acts. This reinforced an ambiance of melancholy, a pivotal trait of the Russian soul. The opera opens with the Larin family in the forest, though this could easily be the view from the porch of Tatyana’s family estate. Fiennes emphasized the cordial nature of the relationship between the peasants returning from harvest and their masters. When we moved to Tatyana’s bedroom, a curtain with a birch tree design was used to change scenes, remaining in the background, to accentuate the idea of « North ».
Further evidence of Fiennes’ research was demonstrated in the contrasting manner in which the Larin homes (countryside lower nobility) and those of Prince Gremin (Saint‑Petersburg upper aristocracy) were depicted. Gone was the clutter, the very antithesis of aristocracy, that is too often used to dazzle in some productions of this opera. From a practical viewpoint, ballrooms cannot be filled with knick‑knacks, as they’d hinder the movements of the dancers. The floor of Gremin looked as if it had snow, but it was talcum powder, used to prevent dancers from slipping. The grandness of Gremin’s palace was efficiently telegraphed by the opulence of the elegant walls, modeled after the gold and white walls of the Hermitage.
The most striking image was the duel scene. Usually set in a blindingly white open field of snow whose sole purpose is to contrast with Lensky’s blood, Levin surpassed himself. Instead, it took place on the shore of a frozen lake, with partially submerged birch trees, again invoking melancholy. This was by far the best Onegin duel scene I’ve ever seen.
Even Tatyana’s transformation in Act III was beautifully understated. Most often the modest ingénue seen in Act I is transformed into a glamorous beauty, frequently clad red. Not here. Tatyana’s beauty shone by having her elegantly dressed, but no more so than other ladies invited to her home. Finally, here’s someone who understands the very notion of class (and being British is a good start!). A truly noble lady would not overdress to shine at the expense of her guests.
The uncontested revelation of the evening was Armenian soprano Ruzan Mantashyan, who was an ideal Tatyana. Her timbre is beautiful, with clear high notes, though she lacked bite in the first act, possibly in her attempt to emphasize her youth and innocence (and to contrast with herself in Act III). A talented actress, she deftly conveyed Tatyana’s emotional vicissitudes. At the end of Act I, “Vi mnye pisali... Kogda bi zhizn domashnim krugom,” she is confronted and rejected by Onegin, but leaves with her dignity intact.
The letter scene, “Puskai pogilabnu ya, no pryezhde,” was brilliantly staged. Traditionally set at a desk, occasionally on the young woman’s bed, Fiennes was able to convey the turbulence Tatyana was experiencing by having her start eagerly at her desk, then nervously pace the room and finally and sensually end the scene on her bed.
In the opera’s finale, Mantashyan played – without exaggerating – the reserved grande dame, wife of Prince Gremin. In the opera’s affecting final scene, “O! Kak mnye tyazhelo!... O, szhaltes, szhaltes nado mnoyu,” Tatyana was able to display vulnerability despite her veneer of reserve. In this scene, Onegin implores the now married Tatyana to be his lover. She confronts him, lamenting the lost opportunity of great love, declaring her persistent desire for Onegin as well as the impossibility of betraying her husband. This intense moment is set to the music of Tatyana’s passionate Act I letter scene, albeit in a frenzied rhythm. Mantashyan moved me (and many in the audience) to tears by showing her hesitation as she took her final solemn and honourable stand.
Russian baritone Boris Pinkhasovich is a highly-accomplished singer, recently admired as Ford in Falstaff and as Prince Yeletsky in The Queen of Spades, both in Vienna. Onegin is a difficult role, as he’s an anti‑Don Juan. He refuses to seduce the ingénue Tatyana, but through his constant ennui and lack of direction, he becomes infatuated with her years later. To interpret Onegin, the singer must be charming yet nonchalant, and never detestable. Only a great singer‑actor can win public sympathy playing such an unpleasant character. Pinkhasovich succeeded only partially in this regard. He conveyed all too well the dandy’s nonchalance and ennui, but was not sufficiently dashing, suave, easy‑going or charming. After all, these traits are required to make romantic, dreamy Tatyana fall for him. Nonetheless, the contrast between his cold benevolence in Act I’s final scene, and his emotional collapse in the opera’s final scene were proof of this baritone’s versatility.
Ukraine’s Bogdan Volkov, admired this summer as Alfredo in La Traviata in Berlin and as Lensky in the aforementioned production of Eugene Onegin in Madrid, is endowed with a youthful, appealing lyric voice and boyish good looks. From his first appearance, one felt sorry for him, especially in the company of his brutish friend Onegin. As in Madrid, his famous aria, “Kuda, kuda, kuda vi udalilis,” while outstandingly executed and moving, was perhaps too melancholy. The music and text sufficiently convey the poet’s disillusionment; adding unnecessary pathos is overkill. Nonetheless, this was one marvellous Lensky, both vocally and dramatically. He also received the most applause of the evening.
Maltese mezzo Marvic Monreal was a delightful Olga. Her dark, velvety mezzo contrasted beautifully with Mantashyan’s lyric soprano in their duets and in the ensembles. With such a rich voice, it’s a pity Olga has no solo arias. As an actress, she perfectly conveyed the younger sister’s infectious joie de vivre. Perhaps excessively playful, her Olga contrasted well with her dreamy sister Tatyana. Her flirtation with Onegin during Tatyana’s party seemed natural and spontaneous.
Ukrainian bass Alexander Tsymbalyuk was an adequate Prince Gremin, but possibly the weakest among the lead singers. Heard recently as the Grand Inquisitor in Don Carlos in Paris, and in the same role in the Italian version in Naples, he was miscast in both due to his light timbre for the menacing role and poor French and Italian diction. Here, diction posed no problem, but he lacked the required low notes for his glorious aria, “Lyubvi vsye vozrasti pokorni.” Dramatically, he fared better, ably conveying the Prince’s poise and dignity.
British tenor Peter Bronder was a superlative Monsieur Triquet. A superb character tenor, he captured to a tee Tatyana and Olga’s awkward but amiable elderly French tutor. Tchaikovsky wrote Triquet’s aria “A cette fête conviée, de celle dont le jour est fêté... Brillez, toujours, belle Tatiana” mostly in French. Traditionally, it has been the speciality of French character tenors, who sing it with a delicious sense of elocution (a clin d’œil to singing easily understandable French to his Russian audience at Tatyana’s party). Bronder’s rendition of this aria was delightful thanks to his excellent diction and stylishly elegant singing.
American mezzo Susan Graham portrayed a rather young Madame Larina, Tatyana’s and Olga’s mother. Last heard as Didon in Les Troyens in Chicago in 2016, Graham still enjoys a pleasingly warm mezzo and formidable stage presence. Dignified and naturally elegant, she had as much charisma – if not more – than the leads.
Russian mezzo Elena Zaremba was a delightful Filipyevna, maternal and caring. Recently heard as The Old Countess in Tchaikovsky’s The Queen of Spades in Vienna, Zaremba may be too young to be the old nurse, but thanks to her acting and a convincing limp, she passed for someone twice her age. Her warm mezzo, outstanding diction and impressive characterization made this secondary role seem more important.
The cherry on top of this intoxicating production was American-Russian conductor Semyon Bychkov, at the helm of the Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris. Recently admired at Bayreuth conducting a tremendous Tristan und Isolde, Bychkov, a native of Russia, is obviously a stellar choice, well‑versed as he is in the tradition, and with a powerful affinity for Tchaikovsky. During Act I, he adopted overly slow tempi at times, particularly in Gremin’s aria. However, the brisk tempi in the magnificently choreographed dance interludes were dazzling. He managed to accentuate the tension in such dramatic moments as the duel scene and the finale. Most importantly, he unfailingly supported his fine singers with aplomb, adapting the tempi to suit their needs.
With nearly all elements perfect, from staging, sets, and singing to orchestra and conductor, this was a glorious Onegin for the ages, one I’ll not soon forget. It’s unlikely another director could surpass the genius and sensibility of Ralph Fiennes. Спасибо/ Spasibo!
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