Last Updated on July 2, 2026
Terfel Returns with a Monumental Boris
4.5 out of 5.0 stars
Director Richard Jones’ take on Modest Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov is having its third outing at the Royal Opera House; previous productions were in 2016 and 2019, with Bryn Terfel reprising his role as the haunted Czar.
Mussorgsky drafted his own libretto for Boris Godunov from Pushkin’s drama and Karamzin’s History of the Russian State, composing an initial seven-scene version between 1868 and 1869. This original score and the one used for Jones’ production focused on Boris’ psychological unravelling, the scheming around him, and his relationship with the Russian populace. There was no conventional love plot, which led to the opera being rejected by the Imperial Theatres in 1871. In response, Mussorgsky created a revised version of Boris Godunov (1871–72), expanding the structure to nine scenes, adding a love story and reworking several existing scenes. The revision moved somewhat away from stark realism toward a more lyrically “operatic” style, yet it preserved the speech-derived vocal writing, raw harmonies and dark Asiatic sonorities that made the work so radical. The revised version premiered at the Mariinsky Theatre in St Petersburg in 1874, marking Mussorgsky’s only completed opera to reach the stage.
As with Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin, another Pushkin adaptation, the narrative is set in seven episodic scenes, giving the work an epic, filmic quality. Russian Tsar Fyodor has died, leaving the country uncertain and unstable. The people are bullied into begging Boris, Fyodor’s pre-eminent Boyar (a Baron), to accept the crown. However, rumours persist that Boris had Fyodor’s young son Dmitry killed to clear his path to power. In the Kremlin, Boris Godunov now rules but is plagued by guilty visions of the murdered child, destabilising political shenanigans and news of famine and unrest across his realm.
In the Chudov Monastery, the monk Pimen tells the younger Grigory how Dmitry died and notes that the boy would be Grigory’s age, prompting him to flee and pose as the miraculously alive Tsarevich. As Grigory gathers support in Lithuania and Poland, Boris’s mental state collapses, and Pimen relates a miracle at Dmitry’s grave that convinces Boris his guilt is divinely exposed. In a great council scene, Boris bids farewell to his own son Fyodor, names him heir, and dies, leaving Russia to face invasion and civil turmoil.
Director Richard Jones approaches Boris Godunov from a Symbolist and anti-realistic perspective. He takes the motif of a spinning top, the toy Dmitry was playing with when he was murdered, and places it on the main curtain before the production starts. The point being that the spinning always comes to an end, normally with a sizeable wobble before it grinds to a halt. The top appears regularly, either being spun by Dmitry, whose murder is replayed several times with cartoonish hooded assassins, and, at one point, it spins impressively across the stage, seemingly floating. It’s an effective metaphor for Boris’ unravelling.
Set designer Miriam Buether has little option but to create minimalist sets for Boris Godunov that act as frames for the action. There is a floor-level box embossed with repeated images of bells, a central motif of the Kremlin and Imperial Russia that symbolises faith and power. On occasion, an upper level emerges, seemingly in one of the Kremlin’s domes, so separating the ruling classes from the masses.
Costume designer Nicky Gillibrand dresses the mob in seemingly authentic blue, brown, grey and black robes, tunics and trousers. The crowd often moves as one, an amorphous blob that sometimes splits into competing factions and then coalesces.
Boris’s coronation is a riotous spectacle, with the music and costuming combining to overwhelm the senses in a cacophony of sound, colour, power, and glory. Boris is dressed in a golden, heavily embroidered, and bejewelled robe, with the assembled clerics wearing outfits that combine imagery from Russian icons with colour palettes from Versace. The Boyars are decked out in natty maroon trousers with stripes down the sides that owe a debt to Adidas tracksuit bottoms. They also share the same barber, with a cut best described as interesting.
House favourite and operatic superstar Bryn Terfel delivers a monumental and masterful performance as Boris Godunov. Aristotle argues that “tragedy is the arousal of pity and fear”, and Terfel’s Boris evokes both emotions as he disintegrates into a hallucinatory state. Because Terfel plays the grizzled older man so effectively, I was alarmed to realise he is 4 years younger than me! If his bass-baritone lacks the lower-end resonance of a full baritone, Terfel can still roar like a lion, dominating the stage but also capable of a gentle, caressing tone when addressing his children. His acting is first-class, and I’m looking forward to seeing him return as Captain Balstrode in Peter Grimes in May.
I’m a big fan of Polish bass Adam Palka. Palka gave a stentorian performance as Anna’s father in Don Giovanni at Covent Garden in 2022 and, in contrast, created a wonderfully playful Méphistophélès in Gounod’s Faust. He gives Pimen the monk the right balance of faux humility and scheming guile with a voice that shakes the foundations of the opera house.
Ukrainian baritone Andrii Kymach delivers an unapologetically muscular performance as Andrei Shchelkalov, the clerk of the Boyar’s council; American tenor Jamez McCorkle makes an impressive Royal Opera debut as the young pretender to the throne, Grigory Otrepiev, with a voice that was impassioned and flexibly expressive, and tenor John Daszak is suitably insinuating as shifty Prince Shuisky.
There is fine casting in the smaller roles too, with characterful performances all round. Russian bass Alexander Roslavets as Varlaam and Scottish tenor Alasdair Elliott as Missail make an appealing pair of drunken monks; mezzo-soprano Susan Bickley is underused as the bustling hostess of the inn, and Chinese tenor Mingjie Lei impresses as the Holy Fool, unable to submit to the pressure of power with his autistic sense of honesty.
Mark Wigglesworth conducts the Royal Opera House Band with style and a strong sense of control, from the opening mournful bassoon motif to the overload of the coronation. If his reading didn’t have the vitality of Abbado’s, it was well measured with a visceral edge. The Royal Opera chorus is one of the stars of the show, veering from the rich sonority of the peasant mob to celestial liturgies and Orthodox chants. Give them a raise!
This is an opera that gives us some insight into the tortured nationalist religiosity of the Russian soul, the people dominated and manipulated by centuries of repressive and brutal rulers, backed up by a church that pivots to power. Plus ça change. Boris Godunov is a gripping production with top-quality singing all around and is well worth a visit. It runs for well over two hours without an interval, so factor that in!
29 January–18 February 2026
Royal Opera House
Bow Street
London
WC2E 9DD
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