On March 23, as part of the “March Music Days” International Festival, one of the most prestigious musical events in Bulgaria, the Ruse State Opera will present the premiere of “Eugene Onegin”—a work that remains a benchmark for psychological depth and musical expressiveness in the art of opera. The performance is a revival of the historic 1956 production that inaugurated the Ruse Opera House—a tribute to memory and tradition, yet also a vibrant dialogue with the contemporary stage.
In this context, we speak with the young baritone Mikhail Motaylenko, who takes on the role of Onegin—one of the most complex and multifaceted characters, inspired by Alexander Pushkin’s eponymous novel in verse and brought to life in the music of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Born in St. Petersburg and professionally shaped by both Russian and Bulgarian cultural environments, he brings to his interpretation both the depth of the Russian musical tradition and the immediate emotionality found on the Bulgarian stage. A graduate of the National Academy of Music, Motailenko built his opera career in Bulgaria, where his active stage career also began.
In our conversation, the artist shares his journey toward the role, the inner world of Onegin, and those universal human themes—the fear of intimacy, missed opportunities, and the search for meaning—that make this opera so relevant today.
Your surname suggests Russian roots, and you speak Bulgarian very well. What is your personal and cultural connection to Bulgaria and to the Russian musical tradition, and how does this influence your approach to the role of Eugene Onegin in Tchaikovsky’s opera of the same name?
Yes, my surname does indeed reveal my Russian roots. I was born in St. Petersburg, and that’s where I took my first serious steps in music. I graduated from the Glinka School in St. Petersburg, where I studied piano. That helped me a lot in building a solid musical foundation and naturally connected me to the Russian musical tradition. But I’m also half Bulgarian—my mother is from Vratsa—so my connection to Bulgaria is completely natural. Later, I came to Sofia and graduated from the National Academy of Music. In fact, it was here that my true journey as an opera singer began. I feel that in a way, I carry both cultures within me. Russian music has a very strong psychological depth, while in Bulgaria I discovered a more direct emotionality and openness. This helps me a lot when I’m working on roles like Onegin.
Have you performed the role of Onegin before, or is this your first encounter with this character? How is your personal process of developing this complex and contradictory character unfolding?
This is my first serious engagement with the role. Of course, I was familiar with the opera before—it’s one of the most significant baritone roles. For me, it was very important to first return to the literature. I love to read, so I turned to Pushkin again. I tried to understand not only what Onegin does, but how he thinks and why he behaves this way. To me, he is not simply a cold or insensitive person. Rather, he is a man who fears true feelings and intimacy. And it is precisely this fear that gradually leads to his tragedy.
You’re working with conductor Grigor Palikarov and director Plamen Beikov on this revival of the State Opera – Ruse’s historic production. How does the creative process unfold between you and the team? Is there a moment during rehearsals that has changed or deepened your interpretation of the role?
When working with Plamen Beikov, we talk a lot about what’s going on inside the characters. During rehearsals, especially in the final scene of the opera, he gave plenty of space to both me and all the performers. Instead of dictating strict rules, he offered us guidance and advice. This created a very lively creative atmosphere. This way, our characters remained as natural and personal as possible, yet at the same time, he managed to imbue them with style and his own distinctive directorial touch. Working with Maestro Grigor Palikarov is also a great pleasure. Even during the very first rehearsals, it was clear just how smart and intelligent he is. His approach to music is very deep and attentive to detail. With him, the orchestra begins to sound in a truly special and very lively way—there is a sense of style, of the music breathing, and of overall harmony between the stage and the orchestra. This creates a very strong foundation for all of us on stage.
Onegin is often seen as the image of the “superfluous man”—a man who has everything but finds no meaning. Do you encounter a similar sense of inner emptiness in modern people, and how does that influence the way you build the role?
Yes, I think this character is very relevant today as well. Today, a person may have many opportunities, many connections, yet still feel empty inside. Onegin is an educated, intelligent man; he has everything—but he doesn’t know what to do with his life. And it is precisely this sense of meaninglessness that makes him so interesting and relatable to the modern person.
At the heart of the opera lies the missed moment—that “too late” that marks Onegin’s life. As an artist and a person, how do you understand the theme of the missed opportunity and the irreversibility of decisions?
I think this is something every person feels at some point. Sometimes we realize how important something was only after we’ve already lost it. For Onegin, this realization comes too late. By the time he understands his feelings for Tatyana, there is no turning back. It is precisely this human tragedy that makes the story so powerful.
Tchaikovsky referred to the work as “lyrical scenes” rather than a traditional opera. How does this more intimate, psychological perspective change your approach to the role of Onegin?
That’s a very accurate description. There’s no grand external drama here—everything is much more psychological and intimate. That’s why the role requires a more nuanced approach. Sometimes the most important things happen in small details—in a pause, in a glance, in the way you say a phrase.
To what extent does performing such a role require personal vulnerability? Do you allow your own life experiences to seep into the character of Onegin?
Yes, I think so. Of course, we aren’t playing ourselves, but we do draw on our own experiences and feelings. Without that personal sincerity, the character can hardly become authentic.
There is a stark contrast between Onegin’s outward reserve and his inner turmoil. As a performer, how do you strike a balance between vocal discipline and emotional candor on stage?
That’s always a challenge. In opera, emotion is very important, but it mustn’t undermine technique. When technique is solid, it actually gives you freedom. Then you can be more sincere and more emotional on stage.
If you were to view Onegin not as a literary character but as a person of our time—what do you think he would be seeking: love, meaning, freedom, or forgiveness?
I think he would be seeking meaning and something genuine. Onegin is a man who is tired of superficial relationships and empty social roles. Today, he would probably seek a deeper connection with people and with himself.
