Khovanskygate is about the dreadfulness and possible glory of being Russian

Within the space of a few weeks we have had the rare chance of seeing the two great torsos of Russian opera, Borodin’s Prince Igor, unfinished because the composer was often otherwise engaged, and Musorgsky’s Khovanshchina, unfinished because its composer died of drink. Prince Igor at the Coliseum was musically magnificent, and dramatically utterly absurd, ‘self-parody’ that did not do justice to its low-jinks. By contrast, Birmingham Opera Company’s Khovanskygate is musically at least as superb, and dramatically gripping though questionable. As is usual with BOC, the location is unorthodox, in this case an immense tent in the middle of Cannon Hill Park. No seats, except for the disabled, and a lot of being shoved around by members of the chorus or other performers. I’m not sure why we always have to move around so much, but it is a long-established tradition of BOC’s, to make us all feel part of it, I suppose.