It’s rather a paradox. The opera is entitled Eugene Onegin, but the focus, both musical and psychological, is on Tatiana. Onegin largely serves as a means to illuminate her character development from a naïve dreamer to the aristocratic embodiment of moral rectitude. In this production, which featured fine vocal and dramatic work by Mariusz Kwiecien as Onegin and Anna Netrebko as Tatiana captivates the audience and – as she is wont to do – steals the show.

Tchaikovsky also focused on the character of Tatiana and the reasons for that seem to be as much biographical as operatic. When he was writing his 4th symphony, Tchaikovsky received a letter from a young woman he did not know saying that she loved him; he wrote back telling her to control her feelings. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?  Subsequently, at the suggestion of friends, he decided to write an opera based on Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin. He started with the letter scene, becoming deeply emotionally invested in the character of Tatiana. (Indeed, he made her one of the most psychologically complex and convincing female characters in opera) As he was working on this scene, he received a second letter from his admirer threatening suicide. Mortified that his behavior resembled that of Onegin, he agreed to meet her. And, despite being unable to reciprocate her feelings, they married, to his everlasting regret.

Netrebko is a remarkable artist who graces every production in which she appears. But I have never seen her better than she is here. Her Tatiana is truly unforgettable. It is more than a performance; it is a portrayal. She embodies Tchaikovsky’s heroine in her moods, in her psychological complexity, and in her transformation from a shy young girl who lives in the fantasy world of romantic novels to a mature woman with a regal bearing whose morality remains above reproach, even in the face of her undying love for Onegin. In the letter scene, Netrebko sings with blazing intensity, gorgeous coloring, and artful phrasing. Beneath Tatiana’s reserved demeanor is a world of yearning, of dreams, and a grand passion all projected onto Onegin, a man she doesn’t even know. A man, who – by any objective standard – is an utterly inappropriate target of her ardor. Netrebko’s gorgeous pianissimos signal a vulnerability which resurfaces at the end of the opera when she sings quietly about happiness having once been within their reach.

Netrebko is such a charismatic singer and she was to have met her match in this opera as originally cast with Dmitri Hvorostovsky as Onegin. But it was not to be. Hvorostovsky has had to withdraw from staged performances as he continues to undergo medical treatment. Mariusz Kwiecien, who was Onegin when this production premiered in 2013, sings the first three performances before Peter Mattei takes over the balance of this run. Kwiecien sings with a fine resonant baritone. He acts well but he simply lacks the electrifying presence to match Netrebko. He portrays Onegin as selfish, prideful, rather bored, and detached. He finds spending time with his invalid uncle to be tiresome. He exhibits a gratuitous, almost accidental cruelty as he destroys his best friend Lenski – first with his careless flirtation with Olga and then with a bullet. The contrast with the desperate, raw emotion he displays at the end of the opera makes that last scene all the more shocking.

Alexey Dolgov is touching as Lenski, with his clear, attractive voice. His “Kuda, kuda,” accompanied in Mozartean style by a solo oboe, is stunning and shattering. His phrasing is very expressive. He is so ardent, idealistic and achingly vulnerable. Dolgov’s Lenski is hopelessly romantic in every sense of the word.  

The other singers are excellent. As Olga, Elena Maximova sings with great style and lyricism. She convinces as a rather flighty extravert – truly the antithesis of her sister, Tatiana. Elena Zaremba sings with a rich full mezzo and is as the mother Madame Larina. Her reminiscences about reading Richardson’s epistolary novel as a young girl – memories she no doubt shares with her daughter – may explain Tatiana’s decision to write Onegin a letter instead of speaking to him in person. As the nurse, Larissa Diadkova, creates a fully formed and beautifully sung character. As Gremin, Štefan Kocán sings very low bass notes with ease but his voice is rather monochromatic.

The Met chorus is as always superb whether they be peasants or aristocrats in elegant dress. The Met Orchestra under the brilliant baton of Robin Ticciati does full justice to the wonder that is Tchaikovsky’s score. It is a gorgeous tapestry of orchestral colors, motifs that are repeated and transformed, and musical evocations of feelings and psychological states.

The production, by Deborah Warner, is stylistically inconsistent and occasionally incoherent. The first act is full of domestic detail. The last two acts are stylized, minimalist, and elegant. The desolate duel scene, beautifully designed by Tom Pye, evokes the cold hand of fate about which Onegin and Lenski sing in a sotto voce duet. Fate has brought them to this place and there is no way back. Paula Williams, the director for this revival, deserves great credit for the detailed character creation by both principals. The lighting by Jean Kalman is splendid with a particularly arresting scene depicting the morning sun shining through the windows of the Larin home, in the room in which Tatiana falls asleep after writing her letter to Onegin.