The opera departs from Pushkin's original story quite significantly.
In both versions Hermann, a young soldier, is haunted by the rumor of a mysterious secret of an unbeatable sequence of cards. In Pushkin, he stops at nothing to learn the secret from the elderly countess who is said to know it, including seducing her ward Lizaveta to gain access to her. His dreams seem thwarted when he frightens her to death before she can reveal it, but he is then visited by her ghost, who orders him to marry the girl and play the cards exactly. The countess has the last laugh however when the final card turns out to be not the promised ace, but a winking Queen of Spades, which drives Hermann mad and sends the ward into a dull marriage to "a very amiable young man in the service of the
state." Michael Dungan reads Tchaikovsky's more romantic interpretation of the story (from a libretto by his brother Modest) as a response to the composer's empathy with the central character. Over the years Hermann's passion and shame has been read as a masked response to Tchaikovsky's homosexuality. But as Dungan notes, homosexuality was less socially taboo in nineteenth century Russian high society than might be presumed, and it is more likely that his empathy was rooted by a simple sense of connection with the soul of a fellow gambler. The opera softens the characterization of Hermann by making his affection for Lizaveta more genuine and having the latter engaged to an aloof aristocrat whom she does not love. The action follows much the traditional trajectory of a standard opera, yet the composer enjoys several subversions in his incorporation of unexpected musical moments which cast tonal complexions on the drama, including a quasi-parodic ballet and a masked ball at the beginning of Act Two, of which Dungan observes "Unsuspecting audience-members, returning to their seats after the interval, could be forgiven for wondering if they had somehow wandered into the wrong theatre. Mozart seems to have replaced Tchaikovsky as the curtain rises to an introduction and chorus " Opera Ireland's current production of The Queen of Spades is a sumptuous affair. It is a grandly realized spectacle directed with energy and depth by Dieter Kaegi, lustrously designed by Joe Vanek, and it features an unforgettable performance from Irish opera legend Veronica Dunne as the countess. Though her singing voice is now frail and cracked, Dunne is still a commanding stage presence. Her dramatic characterization far exceeds the expected