Foundations V
Le Sacre’s Predecessors: L’Oiseau de Feu and Petrouchka
The fifth in a series
of articles tracing the historic convergence of people and ideas that culminated
in the cataclysmic 1913 premiere of Le Sacre du Printemps, and exploring
the impact of that revolution today.
Previous
Installments:
I.
"Two
Characters in the Cast: Serge Diaghilev and Igor Stravinsky"
II.
"Enter Emile
Jaques-Dalcroze"
III.
"Two Trends"
IV.
Two New Characters
1910 and L’Oiseau
de Feu
The first collaboration between Igor Stravinsky and Serge Diaghilev was the ballet L’Oiseau de Feu ("Firebird"). Diaghilev did all the hiring -- from stage designer to choreographer to composer – allowing him to create his ideal vision of fusion among art forms.
Two of his hiring choices were unsurprising: Alexander Golovin, another in the “World of Art” circle, was chosen as designer of costumes and set décor. Michel Fokine, who’d already choreographed several other works, was hired as choreographer for L’Oiseau de Feu as well.
The choice of Stravinsky as composer, however, was met with skepticism from some company members and associates. He was clearly a newcomer, and his music was “new” as well – so new that many listeners weren’t sure what to make of it. Nevertheless, Diaghilev was confident of his decision, admiring the fresh, original characteristics of Stravinsky’s music.
Stravinsky was pleased with the commission, even though it further delayed composition of Le Rossignol. He recognized Diaghilev’s genius, the development of Russian ballet, and the surge of talented dancers.
All this greatly tempted me to break through the pale and eagerly seize this opportunity of making close contact with that group of advanced and active artists of which Diaghilev was the soul, and which had long attracted me.1
Perhaps seeking reassurance (or overblown praise), Diaghilev invited critic Robert Brussel to hear Stravinsky play excerpts of the work in progress. Brussel’s account of the event is like a description of a great epiphany:
The author, young, slim, and uncommunicative, with vague meditative eyes, and lips set firm in an energetic-looking face, was at the piano. But the moment he began to play, the modest and dimly lit dwelling glowed with a dazzling radiance. By the end of the first scene, I was conquered; by the last, I was lost in admiration. The manuscript revealed a masterpiece…
And now Diaghilev possessed the talisman able to open all those secret doors which hid and closed the future. The influence he wished to wield, the battle he was determined to wage was now his to choose or renounce, for the predestined being had entered his life. 2
(“The talisman,” “the battle,” “the predestined being”… Not too hyperbolic, is it?)
Stravinsky and Fokine worked closely together to coordinate their work, even phrase by phrase. Although Fokine was interested in a more natural, expressive choreographic style than earlier traditional ballet, Stravinsky still considered Fokine’s movement ideas overly elaborate, burdened with superfluous gesture, and too intricate to coordinate well with the music.
At the work’s completion, Stravinsky remained dissatisfied with the relationship between the music and the dance, but L’Oiseau de Feu was a resounding success with the Parisian public, and its artistic synthesis was hailed as a new concept in ballet. Critic Henri Gheon wrote:
L’Oiseau de Feu, being the result of an intimate collaboration between choreography, music and painting, presents us with the most exquisite miracle of harmony imaginable, of sound and form and movement. The old-gold vermiculation of the fantastic backcloth seems to have been invented to a formula identical with that of the shimmering web of the orchestra. And as one listens, there issues forth the very sound of the wizard shrieking, of swarming, sorcerers and gnomes running amuck. When the bird passes, it is truly the music that bears it aloft. Stravinsky, Fokine, Golovin, in my eyes, are but one name.3
As an original fusion of modern arts,
L’Oiseau de Feu stood out from the other works on the program: Scheherazade,
Carnaval, Les Orientales, and Giselle. The 1910 season exceeded the first in
acclaim, and in turn precipitated the next one.
1911 and Petrouchka
The
year 1911 was a significant one for Diaghilev – it was the year he broke away
from the Imperial Theatres entirely. Up to this point, he had been “borrowing”
performers from them. The artists were limited in their availability, which
limited the length of the engagements Diaghilev procured. Other tensions had
already been present in his dealings with the Imperial Theatres, as previously
noted. So, Diaghilev formed his own independent ballet company, and most of the
Imperial Theatre’s best performers were willing to resign in order to join him.
Vaslav Nijinsky, Diaghilev’s lover, protégé, and a phenomenal, acclaimed dancer, was dismissed by the Imperial Theatres due to his controversial costume choice for Giselle: tights without the obligatory “trunks” (or “dance belt"). (This became something of a theme in Nijinsky’s career, as he later scandalized audiences in L’apres-midi d’un faune with not only a revealing costume, but also a phrase of explicitly sexual movement.)
Some believe Diaghilev “arranged” this scandal ("wardrobe malfunction?") in order to free Nijinsky from his contract, thus allowing him to commit to Diaghilev’s new independent ballet company. If so, it still remains unclear whether this was a manipulation on Diaghilev’s part, or an idea Nijinsky agreed to pursue for the purpose of getting fired in order to join Diaghilev's new Ballet Russes.
The idea of Le Sacre du Printemps had already been conceived (discrepancies as to when and by whom will be discussed later), and the work was to premiere in the 1911 season. But before embarking on the arduous composition of its score, Stravinsky began to compose a lighter piece as a diversion. That work became Petrouchka.
Thus instead of Le Sacre, Petrouchka was completed for the 1911 European tour. It premiered in Paris, in a program including Le Spectre de la Rose, Le Dieu Bleu, Narcisse, Sadko, Lac des Cynes, and Aurore et le Prince.
Accounts of Petrouchka’s origin differ. By Stravinsky’s account, it was his idea:
Before tackling the Sacre du Printemps, which would be a long and difficult task, I wanted to refresh myself by composing an orchestral piece in which the piano would play the most important part – a sort of Konzertstuck. In composing the music, I had in my mind a distinct picture of a puppet, suddenly endowed with life, exasperating the patience of the orchestra with diabolical cascades of arpeggios. The orchestra in turn retaliates with menacing trumpet blasts. The outcome is a terrific noise which reaches its climax and ends in the sorrowful and querulous collapse of the poor puppet. Having finished this bizarre piece, I struggled for hours, while walking beside the Lake of Geneva, to find a title which would express in a word the character of my music and, consequently, the personality of this creature.
One day I leapt for joy. I had indeed found my title – Petrouchka, the immortal and unhappy hero of every fair in all countries. Soon afterwards Diaghileff came to visit me at Clarens, where I was staying. He was much astonished when, instead of sketches of the Sacre, I played him the piece I had just composed… He was so much pleased with it that he would not leave it alone and began persuading me to develop the theme of the puppet’s sufferings and make it into a whole ballet. 4
Diaghilev, however, maintained that it was he who first realized the significance of Stravinsky’s piece as a portrayal of Petrouchka come to life. In his account, Stravinsky played the “Konzertstuck” for him without any programmatic association whatsoever; Diaghilev, overcome with excitement, cried, “But that’s a ballet! Why, that’s Petrouchka!”5
This claim is reiterated in Diaghilev’s obituary notice, written by Nicolas Nabokov (composer of Ode), who added:
Thus it was that with his exceptional sensibility, his phenomenal artistic flair, he sensed the characteristics of a whole future epoch… the composer himself did not realize the true importance of his ‘piano concerto’; Diaghilev’s prophetic insight was alone responsible… 6
Petrouchka continued in the conceptual idiom first realized in L’Oiseau de Feu – a union of the arts in ballet. Costumes and décor, designed by Alexandre Benois (yes, another of the “World of Art”), highlighted the essence of the drama. He effectively portrayed the spring fairs of Russia with traditional costumes and evocative settings, including the stage within the stage. Stravinsky was more satisfied with Fokine’s choreography than he had been with that of L’Oiseau de Feu (although he disliked the unchoreographed improvised group scenes).
Nijinsky’s dramatic portrayal of the
title role captured the character of the puppet. Of course, the music was
unquestionably a perfect expression of the drama. Again, Diaghilev had produced
an immensely successful work.
Diaghilev’s company was now renowned throughout Europe. He was prepared to
produce the work Petrouchka had interrupted.
Next time: Perspective on “historical perspectives;” the 1910 view of “modern” music and dance; and why the differences between music and dance matter.