A fine pairing of Russian souls ignite in lovely ‘Eugene Onegin’

Talk about kindred spirits. Although the novelist and poet Alexander Pushkin died just a few years before the birth of composer Peter Illyich Tchaikovsky, the two men clearly were made of the same cloth. For proof that they shared a unique melding of Russian soul you need look no further than Lyric Opera of Chicago’s exquisite production of “Eugene Onegin,” the Tchaikovsky opera based on Pushkin’s verse novel — a work widely considered among the greatest achievements in Russian literature.

There are echoes of another, somewhat later Russian soul in this production, too — that of playwright Anton Chekhov, whose sense of the innate anguish in life, with its pain and futility, its often thwarted quest for love and happiness, and the abiding sense of missed opportunity were of the essence in all his work. And it this feeling, which might best be described as autumnal depression, that infuses every aspect of the opera’s score, as well as this Lyric production, which was originally created for New York’s Metropolitan Opera by director Robert Carsen, and is enhanced by Michael Levine’s poetic, gently raked set and the rich, painterly lighting of Christine Binder.

Carsen has framed the story here so that it is told in retrospect, with Onegin (Polish baritone Mariusz Kwiecien), who we will come to know mostly as a sophisticated, somewhat cynical young man from Saint Petersburg, seen standing behind a scrim and holding the pages of a letter as the overture unspools. Onegin is now in the autumn of his life and you can feel his intense sense of regret.

Then the veil lifts, and the story begins to unfold from the start. The tall trunks of white birch trees reach into the sky as a peasant woman sits at a table and peels potatoes, and we hear a song of love and sorrow in the distance. The light is orange and autumn is in the air; it is harvest time.

We are at the rural home of Madame Larina (mezzo Katharine Goeldner), a widow and the mother of two very different daughters: Tatiana (Puerto Rican-born soprano Ana Maria Martinez), a shy, bookish young woman, who devours romantic novels, and her flirtatious sister, Olga (Russian mezzo-sorprano Alisa Kolosova).

Olga’s suitor, the poet Vladimir Lensky (American tenor Charles Castronovo), is another serious romantic, and his adoration of his free-spirited fiancee, sung with great beauty and passion, suggests an overwrought spirit. Onegin, the friend he has brought along to the celebration, could not be more different and is bluntly dismissive of life in the countryside. As for the innocent Tatiana, she is clearly smitten at first sight by this dashing stranger. And after their first encounter she heads to her bedroom and throws all caution to the wind by penning a letter to Onegin in which she declares her love with a painfully open heart. That letter is the source of a magnificent aria, and Martinez’s rendering of it — both vocally and dramatically — is superb, bursting with all the ardor, confusion and self-awareness of first love.

Kwiecien’s response to Tatiana also is superbly rendered, suggesting that Onegin is not so much cruel as he is brutally honest. He is well aware of his lack of interest in commitment and traditional family arrangements, and while he senses Tatiana is a person of value, he makes it clear to her that he desires life elsewhere. He also advises her to keep her heart more protected.

Onegin encounters Tatiana again some months later at her “name day” party. But he now flirts with Olga (who flirts right back), and this sends Lensky into a jealous rage that ends with a fatal duel — a stunningly staged event in the blue light before dawn. Onegin now must live with the knowledge that he has killed his friend, and Kwiecien shows us he understands this very well.

The opera’s second half unfolds several years later, at a lavish ball in the palace of Prince Gremin (the formidable Russian bass Dmitry Belosselskiy). An older but distinguished man, he is, unbeknownst to Onegin, Tatiana’s husband, and Belosselskiy, with a bearing of great solidity, sings with winning power and heart about the happiness his wife has brought him. When Onegin and Tatiana have some moments alone it is obvious a certain fire still exists between them, but Tatiana’s goodness prevails, and Onegin is left to face the fact that his youthful arrogance sealed his lonely fate.

Throughout there is a wonderful sense of the contrast between Russian country and city life, with splendid portrayals by mezzo Jill Grove, as Filipyevna, that salt-of-the-earth nanny character so crucial to any Russian story, a stylish turn by Takaoki Onishi as a young Captain, and the buoyant chorus that shifts easily (with help from Levine’s costumes) from one world to the other.

Tchaikovsky’s lyrical score magically suggests the quality of speech, and is played with great sensitivity by the ever lustrous Lyric Opera orchestra, led by Alejo Perez. The only thing missing here are buckwheat blini served in the lobby.