Phantoms of the Opera

The neo-classical façade of Bishkek’s ballet and opera house looks a little out of place surrounded as it is by concrete, Soviet municipal architecture and the characterless front of the Hyatt hotel. The opera house stands as a solitary reminder that the Russians did not arrive in Kyrgyzstan only in the wake of the Communist Revolution; the city had been a Russian garrison since the middle of the 19^th century. A love of the Russian ballet and European opera has endured despite a century of dramatic social and political change.

The Soviet Union, already a generation into the past, also left its indelible mark on Bishkek’s opera house. As you climb the stairs from the main lobby to the balcony, the ceiling is painted with a brilliantly coloured fresco. However, whereas one might expect the usual buxom nymphs, bacchae or cherubs to be frolicking across the ceiling, instead you are met by the smiling faces of the Soviet Union's numerous ethnic groups - the happy peasant is alive and well.

The Cold War’s separation of the USSR from western Europe influenced not only the fabric of the opera house but also the productions on its stage. Touring companies came only from within the Soviet Union and the new works premiered almost all originated in Moscow. Operas with supposedly bourgeoisie plots or morals were out of favour; in fact, Mozart’s famous opera The Magic Flute did not get its Central Asian premiere until it was performed in Bishkek in 2002.

Even today, the cast of the ballet gives testament to Central Asia’s turbulent past. Among the ballerinas are not only Kyrgyz and Russian dancers but also, quite unexpectedly, Koreans. Koreans were forcefully resettled from the most eastern parts of the USSR to Central Asia in a bid to prevent them joining forces with the Chinese and conspiring against Moscow. Although many of Kyrgyzstan’s ethnic minorities have emigrated since independence in 1991, the existence of a disproportionate number of Korean restaurants in Bishkek is a reminder of their former presence. 

Last but not least, the phantom of the USSR stalks the opera house bar in the form of Georgian champagne. Incredibly cheap, incredibly sweet and not always all that palatable, Georgian wines and champagnes were the mainstay of a Russian or Central Asian cellar throughout the 20^th century. Trade embargos prevented European, Californian or South African vineyards selling wines to the USSR, so the Soviets were entirely at the mercy of the Georgian growers. Whatever they grew, regardless of quality, was quickly sold and the habit has not yet been kicked: warm, sweet champagne remains the drink of choice in the opera house bar.