Sergei Prokofiev Research Articles

Paul Wittgenstein and the Performance Of Disability

Paul Wittgenstein's one-handedness has typically been framed as a physical limitation at odds with an able-bodied ideology driving musical performance. Contemporary reviews, for instance, frame the pianist's disability as a tragedy heroically transcended during the course of virtuosic performance; others suggest that Wittgenstein successfully "passed" as two-handed. A study of Wittgenstein's numerous one-hand arrangements reveals similar narratives: the pianist often attempted to imitate the sound of two-handed piano music, and many of his own keyboard exercises train his one hand to assume the load of two. The "deficiency" model can be seen most dramatically in three attempts to arrange Witt-genstein's commissions for left-hand piano into a more "normal" performance medium: Sergei Prokofiev's expressed (but abandoned) interest in arranging his left-hand piano concerto for piano two-hands, Alfred Cortot's completed draft of a two-hand arrangement of Ravel's Concerto pour la main gauche, and, most significantly, Friedrich Wührer's highly successful two-hand arrangements of Franz Schmidt's left-hand pieces for Wittgenstein, which explicitly adopt a program of "strengthening" and "filling in" the supposed weaknesses of a disabled performance medium. Yet, despite the stigma it may have accrued, one-handed pianism is but a more prominent, more public example of the "bodily limits" all performers must confront; similar discourse surrounds the deficiencies of small hands or stiff fingers, for example. For the performer's body must negotiate its corporeal finitude with the complex demands of the musical score. As seen here in the career of Wittgenstein, an aesthetics of disabled performance presents this dialectic in heightened microcosm.

A Dialogue Begins: Nadia Boulanger, Igor Stravinsky, and the Symphonie de psaumes

IN THE FINAL WEEKS OF SEPTEMBER 1929 Nadia Boulanger retreated to her summer home in Gargenville, France, to afford herself a few moments of peace. She had spent the summer, as she had every summer since 1921, teaching at the Conservatoire americain at Fontainebleau, and the following academic year would be exceptionally busy because Boulanger had agreed to take over the late Paul Dukas' music history courses at the Ecole normale de musique in Paris. Boulanger therefore seized the opportunity to sequester herself at Gargenville and permit herself some time to prepare her courses, entertain friends, and provide lessons to those students invited by her to loiter during the intersessional period. In the middle of this activity, on September 26, 1929, a letter from Igor Stravinsky arrived, stating that the composer was looking for Boulanger. (1) Stravinsky had recently returned to Paris after a summer vacationing with his family in Culoz. There he had composed portions of his latest work, the pseudo-piano concerto Capriccio, and commiserated with Sergei Prokofiev, Ernest Ansermet, and Pytor Souvtchinksky. The vacation ended with the sudden news that Stravinsky's impresario for twenty years, the mercurial Sergei Diaghilev, had died on July 19. After returning with his family to their home in Nice, Stravinsky departed for Paris, perhaps to seek comfort in the arms of his lover, Vera Sudeinkina. In addition, it seems that Stravinsky felt the need to impose some sense of order on his personal life, and so he requested an audience with Boulanger concerning his son Soulima. (2) Stravinsky's message precipitated a house call at Gargenville, during which time the composer asked Boulanger to assume the musical education of his middle child. Boulanger accepted, and within two weeks the eighteen-year-old Soulima Stravinsky had been packed off to Paris, far from the watchful eyes of his parents. (3) Over the course of the 1929-30 academic year Boulanger grew close to Soulima, serving as a sort of surrogate parent for him. This brought her into closer contact with Stravinsky's immediate family and, eventually, into the creative circle of the composer himself. (4) The resulting familiarity between Boulanger and Stravinsky led these two musicians to engage in their first project together: the editorial revision and analysis of the Symphonie de psaumes. The details of this project had never been published, remaining hidden until I recently discovered them in documents at the fonds Boulanger archive of the Bibliotheque nationale de France and the Stravinsky Sammlung of the Paul Sacher Stiftung in Basel, Switzerland. (5) Bringing these materials together, I enter the musical conversation between Boulanger and Stravinsky in the early 1930s. First, I reconstruct the particulars of Boulanger's and Stravinsky's editorial work on the Symphonie de psaumes from August through October 1931, which resulted in the publication of the composition's miniature score. Second, I examine the analytical materials Boulanger and Stravinsky exchanged in June 1932 in order to consider how they reflect the inner workings of the Symphonie de psaumes and Boulanger's most famous teaching concept, the grande ligne. In so doing I redraw the connections between Boulanger's and Stravinsky's professional activities between 1930 and 1932. Executing this rehabilitation comes with its own difficulties, however. It has been all too easy for me when exploring the relationship between these two icons to struggle between serving two masters. Especially seductive has been the pull to give value to Boulanger's musical activities only because of what they tell us about Stravinsky and not necessarily because of what they tell us about her. In lieu of succumbing to either of these pitfalls, I have chosen to center this article on Boulanger in order to reinterpret, in Suzanne Cusick's words, woman's work and the culturally feminine so that they cease to be marginalized and devalued, but might be re-interpreted as important elements of musical culture. …

Chronological Framework

Chronological Framework James H. Krukon Harlow Robinson. Russians in Hollywood, Hollywood’s Russians: Biography of an Image. Northeastern University Press, 2007. 314 pages; $29.95. A specialist in Russian language and history at Northeastern University, Harlow Robinson has written major monographs on composer Sergei Prokofiev and impresario Sol Hurok. Here he focuses on the cinema. Russians in Hollywood seeks to trace both “the history of the evolution of the American cinematic image of Russia, and . . . the participation of Russians in the Hollywood film industry” (p. 4). To tell this story, the author uses a chronological framework, occasionally jumping forward in time out of thematic considerations. The approach makes sense because, as Robinson says, the U.S. film industry arose around the same time as the revolutions of 1917, which made Russia even more fascinating to Westerners and caused talented Russians to flee the country, many eventually finding refuge in Hollywood. Not surprisingly, the U.S. film industry’s attitude toward the U.S.S.R. reflected the ups and downs of American-Soviet relations. Initial suspicion gave rise to greater sympathy with the establishment of official diplomatic ties in 1933. This good will disappeared due to the Non-Aggression Pact and the Soviet attack on Finland in 1939, only to return on an exaggerated scale during the Second World War. With the onset of the Cold War, U.S. films began displaying a decided hostility toward the Soviet Union. In those days “the only good Russian as far as Hollywood was concerned was one who wanted to defect to the capitalist West” (p. 148). In general, U.S. films since then have never entirely shed their negative image of Russia and Russians. Certainly that image was occasionally humanized, as in the case of Dr. Zhivago (1965). Likewise the U.S. peace movement and U.S.-Soviet détente resulted in a more ambivalent and uncertain cinematic portrayal of Russia, making James Bond an ally of Soviet agents to fight other enemies. Even with the demise of the Soviet Union, though, films about Russia (admittedly fewer than before) tend to depict it as scary and unstable, and Russians themselves often appear greedy and untrustworthy. In other words, the absence of ideological struggle has actually made it more difficult for Hollywood to deal with post-Soviet Russia. Robinson concedes that his selection of Russian-oriented films is idiosyncratic, but he succeeds in including many familiar titles (The Scarlet Empress [1934], Anastasia [1956]), as well as some obscure works he finds noteworthy, for example, Forty Shades of Blue (2005). His choices deal with the Soviet Union as well as its pre-revolutionary era, including adaptations of Russian literary classics, such as War and Peace (1956) and The Brothers Karamazov (1958). Moreover, he showcases comedies along with dramas, for example, Ninotchka (1939), One, Two, Three (1961), The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming (1966), and Love and Death (1975). In addition, Robinson’s interest in music yields frequent observations on the scores of the films. The treatment of “Russians in Hollywood” unfolds alongside the author’s look at the movies in which they sometimes appeared. Russian émigrés began heading to Los Angeles, among other destinations, almost immediately following the Bolshevik coup and often took bit parts in movies. In fact, the most famous Russian-born actors working in Hollywood in the 1930s and [End Page 100] 1940s—several with experience gained at the Moscow Art Theatre—were relegated to supporting roles. Yet they are remembered as some of the greatest character actors in the movies, among them Akim Tamiroff, Vladimir Sokoloff, Mischa Auer, Maria Ouspenskaya, Gregory Ratoff, Michael Chekhov, and Fyodor Chaliapin, Jr. Not until Yul Brynner in the 1950s did a Russian-born actor emerge as a leading man. Robinson’s profiles of these memorable performers are as succinct as his movie analyses. He makes room for those behind the camera as well, including directors Lewis Milestone and Rouben Mamoulian, composer Dimitri Tiomkin, and cinematographer Boris Kaufman (brother of Soviet avant-garde documentarian Dziga Vertov). Robinson also surveys the California sojourns of more high-toned artists such as Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Rachmaninov, and Sergei Prokofiev. Years after émigré ranks had been...

Prokofiev's piano sonatas: a guide for the listener and the performer

Boris Berman, renowned concert pianist and teacher, is one of the world's foremost authorities on Sergei Prokofiev. In this book, he draws on his intimate knowledge of Prokofiev's work to guide music lovers and pianists through the composer's nine piano sonatas. These cherished works, composed between 1910 and 1951, are today considered an indispensable part of the repertoire of every serious concert pianist. The book, written with a deep appreciation of Prokofiev's style and creativity, looks at the sonatas within the context of Prokofiev's complete oeuvre. For each sonata, Berman provides general information about the work and a discussion of the composition's details and features, and in a section entitled Master Class he offers suggestions for interpretation and specific advice for performing. Berman also corrects for the first time various misprints in published scores and includes a helpful glossary of musical terms.

The Art of the Ballets Russes Captured: Reconstructed Ballet Performances on Video

It is impossible to underestimate the influence of Sergei Diaghilev (1872-1929) on twentieth-century ballet history. But it may be easy at times to underestimate his uncanny ability as an impresario to bring together artists from diverse backgrounds and aesthetic and unite them with a common goal of artistic excellence. Established in 1909, the Ballets Russes made an extraordinary impact on Parisian life and monopolized the audiences' attention for almost two decades. More than simply being a ballet company, it promoted and facilitated the interaction of some of the most avant-garde artists of the time. During their twenty-year run (the company disbanded in 1929 after Diaghilev's death), the Ballets Russes collaborated closely with dancers, choreographers and visual artists that included George Balanchine (1904-1983), Vaslav Nijinsky (1890-1950), Tamara Karsavina (1885-1978), Mikhail Fokine (1880-1942), Leonide Massine (1896-1979), Leon Bakst (1866-1944), Georges Braque (1882-1963), and Pablo Picasso (1881-1973). Some of the musicians who either lent their scores to be choreographed or created music particularly for the Ballets Russes included Maurice Ravel (Daphnis & Chloe), Claude Debussy (Jeux), Richard Strauss (Josephslegende), Erik Satie (Parade), Manuel de Falla, Sergei Prokofiev, Francis Poulenc, Darius Milhaud, and, of course, Igor Stravinsky. The latter's groundbreaking collaboration with Diaghilev led to three landmark works, all inspired by the composer's native Russia: Firebird, Petrushka, and the notorious Rite of Spring. THE WORLD OF ART By the time Diaghilev realized his interest in the arts at the dawn of the twentieth century, the world of the romantic ballet had virtually been dead for years. At its zenith, it was represented by works such as La Sylphide and Giselle, made popular in Europe in the 1830s and 1840s mainly thanks to the superhuman accomplishments by ballerinas like Marie Taglioni (the first Sylphide), whose graceful ballons and ethereal dancing on pointe (a novelty at the time) ideally embodied the concepts of the otherworldly and the supernatural. The geography of European ballet history in the later part of the nineteenth century makes for a fascinating read. In spite of the immense popularity that it enjoyed in France until the middle of the nineteenth century, the formulaic and predictable aspects of ballet that once made it popular, now failed to sustain the public's taste for the exotic and the extravagant (which, interestingly enough, both ballet and opera shared). Around that time, Marius Petipa (1818-1910), the greatest choreographer of the time, had moved to Russia, where he established the standard for classical ballet with a series of legendary creations that included Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty. In 1869, he was appointed chief ballet master in St. Petersburg and was single-handedly responsible for defining classical ballet, as well as for putting the Russian Imperial ballet at the forefront of European ballet in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Ironically, France would regain its former ballet glory through the opposite trajectory, this time via Russia with the help of the Ballets Russes. (1) Diaghilev was neither a dancer, nor a choreographer, nor a composer, nor did he aspire to become the great impresario of a Russian ballet company that would take the Parisian audiences by storm and that would have a tremendous impact on twentieth-century ballet history. It was rather through Mir iskusstva (The World of Art), the group and art journal he founded in 1898, that his artistic aspirations became manifest. With the help of artists who shared his symbolist aesthetic, such as Alexandre Benois (1870-1960) and Leon Bakst, he put on art exhibitions in St. Petersburg and Paris, and soon it became apparent that his goals would be better served with him as the intellectual force behind the talent and aspirations of young artists he would help promote. …

The Caucasian Connection: National Identity in the Ballets of Aram Khachaturian

The ballets of Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978) occupy a special place in the history of Soviet ballet and of Soviet music. Considered along with Dmitri Shostakovich and Sergei Prokofiev as one of the leaders of Soviet music, Khachaturian devoted many years to the creation of ballet, although in the end he produced only three ballet scores: Schast'e [Happiness], completed in 1939; Gayane, completed in 1942; and Spartak [Spartacus], completed in 1954. Of these three, Gayane and Spartacus (both repeatedly revised) were notably successful, both immediately acclaimed as important new achievements in the development of an identifiably Soviet ballet style. Taken on tour abroad by the Bolshoi Ballet in a revised version, Spartacus also became one of the most internationally successful ballets written by a Soviet composer, although it never came close to equaling the international recognition eventually achieved by Prokofiev's Soviet ballets Romeo and Juliet or Cinderella. Gayane was not widely staged outside the USSR, but some of the music from the ballet, arranged into three orchestral suites by the composer, became very popular internationally—particularly the “Sabre Dance,” which became the single most recognized piece of Khachaturian, recycled repeatedly in Hollywood film scores.

Mischa Mischakoff: Journeys of a Concertmaster (review)

TWENTIETH-CENTURY BIOGRAPHY Mischa Mischakoff: Journeys of a Concertmaster. By Anne Heiles. (Detroit Monographs in Musicology/Studies in Music, no. 46.) Sterling Heights, MI: Harmonie Park Press, 2006. [xxi, 316 p. ISBN 0-89990-131-X. $65.] Illustrations, appendices, index, compact disc. What do the St. Petersburg Orchestra, the Warsaw Philharmonic, the New York Symphony Orchestra, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the NBC Symphony Orchestra, the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra, the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, and the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra all have in common? They were all led by concertmaster Mischa at one point during his seventy-year career. As indicated by its title, Mischa Mischakoff: Journeys of a Concertmaster illustrates Mischakoff's journey from his home in Russia, where he was a student at the St. Petersburg Conservatory to the United States, where he served as the concertmaster of the orchestras listed above. Written by Mischakoff's daughter, Anne Heiles, this sole biography of reads like a who's of twentieth-century musical life in Russia and the United States. In his role as student, teacher, soloist, concertmaster, and chamber musician he worked with many conductors and instrumentalists, many of whom are even better known than today. This is due in large part to the fact that even though he also had an extensive career as soloist and chamber musician, Mischakoff personified the concertmaster as specialist . . . and was the first prominent US concertmaster to do so (p. xx). His colleagues who chose careers primarily as soloists or chamber musicians retain greater recall by the musical (and nonmusical) public today. The author weaves Mischakoff's story using information from several sources, including, of course, personal knowledge of the subject, interviews with and his contemporaries, books, newspaper articles, reviews, and scrapbooks compiled by himself that documented his career. Along with reproductions of repertoire and personnel lists, correspondence, and programs, the narrative is enhanced by numerous photos, many inscribed personally to Mischakoff, depicting him with his musical colleagues. An overall strength of the book is found in the rich detail Heiles provides about supporting characters, often including birth and death dates and personal history. While this is an immense addition to the context of the narrative, at times it seems as if there is more ancillary detail than first-person information from himself. Each chapter describes a phase in Mischakoff's life in a geographical and chronological manner. The first two chapters provide background on his childhood and training in Russia and Poland. studied with Leopold Auer's assistant Sergei Korguyev at the St. Petersburg Conservatory and felt that would have been better off had I gone on to Auer, though, when he offered to teach me (p. 12). It is hard to imagine how he would have been more successful, but was modest about his abilities and preferred the supporting role of the concertmaster to the spotlight of the soloist even then. We see that from the time he was a student worked with such significant musicians as Sergei Prokofiev, Alexander Glazunov, Gregor Piatigorsky, Jascha Heifetz, and Nathan Milstein. The author also strives to provide historical background in order to illustrate the events of her father's early life, but for those less familiar with the events of the Bolshevik Revolution and World War I, some of the motivations of the political figures who interacted with might seem unclear. The second chapter describes how defected from Russia to Poland with Piatigorsky during a concert tour and later came to the United States. The next chapter illustrates Mischakoff's arrival in New York in 1921. There he was reunited with many of his family members who were also professional musicians in various orchestras throughout the city. …

The Life and Times of Andrei Zhdanov, 1896-1948 (review)

Reviewed by: The Life and Times of Andrei Zhdanov, 1896–1948 Robert E. Johnson (bio) Kees Boterbloem. The Life and Times of Andrei Zhdanov, 1896–1948 McGill-Queen’s University Press 2004. xxiv, 600. $55.00 As the archives of the early Soviet era grow more accessible, Andrei Zhdanov, a member of Josef Stalin's inner circle from the early 1930s to his premature death in 1948, becomes a prime candidate for close study. He shares with just one other Stalinist leader (Nikolai Ezhov) the dubious distinction of having the Russian suffix 'shchina' attached to his name. In popular speech this is a pejorative device, used to describe the bad times associated with a prominent person's leadership or policies, as in 'Pugachevshchina' – the bloody Cossack/peasant uprising of the 1770s led by Emilian Pugachev. The 'Zhdanovshchina' was a notorious campaign of the late 1940s that imposed strict conformity on the arts and promoted xenophobic Russian patriotism. Its targets, whom Zhdanov described as 'rootless cosmopolitans,' included such prominent figures as poet Anna Akhmatova and composer Sergei Prokofiev. Zhdanov himself, however, came to prominence much earlier, and played many other roles within the Soviet leadership. Using a wide range of published and archival sources, Kees Boterbloem tries to trace his protagonist's contributions to the industrialization drive of the First Five Plan, the Great Terror of 1937–38, foreign relations, and the defence of Leningrad during the Second World War. [End Page 556] At first glance Zhdanov seems an unlikely candidate for leadership. His middle-class background resembled that of the 'Old Bolsheviks' – most of whom were purged in the 1930s – more than most of his peers. He had an undistinguished record during the years of revolution and civil war, but rose quickly through the ranks of the Communist party, first in the city of Tver' and then in Nizhnii Novgorod, a more important industrial centre. He proved adept at upholding the (constantly shifting) Party line on such matters as industrialization and agriculture and denouncing its critics. By 1925 he was a member of the Central Committee of the Communist party, and in 1929 he had his first solo audience with Stalin. Early in 1934 he was elevated to Moscow, and in December he succeeded the assassinated Sergei Kirov as head of the Leningrad Party organization. From this point onward Zhdanov took part in almost every major development in domestic and foreign policy. He co-signed decrees, served on numerous drafting commissions, helped to orchestrate the monstrous purges of 1937–38, and delivered countless formulaic speeches setting forth Stalinist policies. Unfortunately the surviving records make it almost impossible to determine what his own specific contributions to any of these may have been. Even the Zhdanovshchina itself may have been the work of others. Other scholars (W. Hahn) have surmised that Zhdanov tried to cushion the impact of the campaign that bears his name. Kees Boterbloem rejects this hypothesis, but the evidence for and against remains sketchy. A fuller (and bolder) exposition would have been welcome. Similarly, he could have attempted a more conclusive account of bureaucratic cronyism and patronage – the 'families' of Stalin's entourage and the rivalries between them. The qualities that made Zhdanov a survivor – obsequious subservience and chameleon-like adaptability – would likely not have served him well as an independent leader. At certain points he appeared to be Stalin's chosen heir. But the Leader, especially in the last decades of his life, was constantly shifting favour among his associates, slapping down any who seemed to be showing ambition or independence. Zhdanov died of heart failure in 1948 at age fifty-two, at a moment when his political fortune seemed to be waning. Despite the book's weighty documentation, Boterbloem's Zhdanov remains a two-dimensional figure. The author can track the number and duration of Zhdanov's meetings with Stalin or other leaders, but usually has no record of what was said. At various points he resorts to something resembling old-fashioned Kremlinology, studying the order of signatures on a decree or of speeches at a Party conference to trace Zhdanov's fluctuating fortunes. The book's greatest strength is its documentary base, but its numerous lists...

Prokofiev's Ballets for Diaghilev (review)

Prokofiev's Ballets for Diaghilev. By Stephen D. Press. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. [xvii, 294 p. ISBN 0-7546-0404-0. $99.95.] Illustrations, music examples, bibliography, index. From specialists in Russian music to devotees of ballet, most music lovers are acquainted to at least some degree with Sergei Prokofiev's mature ballets of the Soviet period. Masterpieces such as Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella have graced theater playbills and concert programs with welcome regularity, while our piano students have stumbled their way, with varying success, through Dance of the Knights. The body of scholarly literature on these works has also been growing steadily. Yet relatively little attention has been paid until recently to Prokofiev's early-fire-Romeo-work in the genre of ballet. Russian scholars may have been prevented from investigating the topic by the ideological trappings of a carefully constructed myth, still relatively intact, about a repentant modernist who did not truly find his voice as a composer until he was back on his native soil. Western researchers, meanwhile, have tended to dismiss the composer's early ballets as ineffectual, clumsy clones of Stravinsky's contemporaneous masterpieces. (Richard Taruskin, Stravinsky and the Russian Traditions: A Biography of the Works through Mavra [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996], 1511.) Consequently, Prokofiev's Ballets for Diaghilev by Stephen D. Press is, shockingly enough, the first book-length study in any language of the composer's early work in ballet. As such, the volume is a long overdue and much welcomed contribution to Prokofiev scholarship. Press's work focuses on Prokofiev's three major Western ballets-Chout, Le pas d'acier, and L'enfant prodigue-as well as on his early aborted attempt, Ala i Lolly, known today only in its orchestral reincarnation, the ever popular Scythian Suite. While stylistic analysis constitutes an important part of the content, the volume's main theme is the young composer's complex relationship with the Ballets Russes circle and its charismatic leader, Serge Diaghilev. The author argues that Diaghilev not only brought Prokofiev into the modern ballet universe, thus providing the means of his success in the West, but also-over years of patient guidance-educated his brash but inexperienced compatriot about the intricacies of effective ballet writing. Essentially, Press believes, he made the composer into the master of the genre that we know today. Furthermore, in so doing, the impresario molded Prokofiev's overall compositional style, steering it towards the so-called new simplicity-a more consonant, melodious, and classical (rather than neo-classical) style that characterizes the composer's Soviet-era works, starting with Romeo and Juliet. The book benefits tremendously from its extensive use of primary sources, including press reviews, correspondence, extant sketches of the music, and Prokofiev's newly published diaries that cover the discussed time period and are quoted liberally throughout the volume. These documents, some of which have only recently been made available for study, will broaden the reader's understanding of the composer's life and work. They also do much to enrich and enliven Press's narrative, as is particularly evident from perusing an extensive biographical essay that opens the book. In it, the author discusses Prokofiev's years abroad and his relationship with Diaghilev and his circle, from their first interactions prior to World War I through 1929, the year of the impresario's death. This engaging account uncovers few substantial facts, but does correct several old misconceptions about Prokofiev's Western career, some of which stem from the composer's own Autobiography penned in the Soviet Union years later. The first chapter thus provides a nice framework for the rest of the volume. I only wish that this monograph-sized opening could be made easier to digest by providing subheadings, especially since all other chapters, some substantially shorter than this one, include them. …

: Darius Milhaud: Modality and Structure in Music of the 1920s . Deborah Mawer. ; The Music of Sergei Prokofiev . Neil Minturn.

: Darius Milhaud: Modality and Structure in Music of the 1920s . Deborah Mawer. ; The Music of Sergei Prokofiev . Neil Minturn.

Darius Milhaud: Modality and Structure in Music of the 1920s Deborah Mawer The Music of Sergei Prokofiev Neil Minturn

Darius Milhaud: Modality and Structure in Music of the 1920s Deborah Mawer The Music of Sergei Prokofiev Neil Minturn

Betrothal in a Monastery. Sergei Prokofiev

Journal Article Betrothal in a Monastery. Sergei Prokofiev Get access Joe K. Law Joe K. Law Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar The Opera Quarterly, Volume 16, Issue 2, Spring 2000, Pages 319–322, https://doi.org/10.1093/oq/16.2.319 Published: 01 March 2000

The music of Sergei Prokofiev

The music of Sergei Prokofiev

War and Peace. Sergei Prokofiev

Journal Article War and Peace. Sergei Prokofiev Get access Roland Graeme Roland Graeme Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar The Opera Quarterly, Volume 14, Issue 1, Autumn 1997, Pages 145–148, https://doi.org/10.1093/oq/14.1.145 Published: 01 October 1997

A Kapustnik in the American Opera House: Modernism and Prokofiev's Love for Three Oranges

No one knows for sure why Sergei Prokofiev decided to go to America. Political intervention in the arts at home does not appear to have been the initial impetus. Despite the White Russian sentiments of many artists, Bolshevik cultural commissars such as the critic and Prokofiev supporter Anatoly Lunacharsky of the Department of Education did not seem any more inclined to ban theatrical works on the basis of content directly after the Revolution than before it.1 A case in point is the first Russian performance in 1926 in Petrograd2 of The Love for Three Oranges, an opera that, though it apparently draws much of its satirical humor by poking fun at the aristocracy, contradicts itself in the end by praising the very group it set out to satirize. In his autobiography, Prokofiev explained that it had not been his intention to mock anything in particular. reviewers..,. wanted to know whom I was laughing at: the audience, [Carlo] Gozzi, the operatic form, or those who had no sense of humor. They found in the Oranges mockery, defiance, the grotesque and what not; all I had been trying to do was to write an amusing opera.3 Prokofiev's remarks on the reception of this 1926 performance suggest that his idea of amusement may have been very different from that of his Bolshevik supporters. It was apparently different from that of their American counterparts as well. Some of the opera's Chicago and New York critics felt duped by an apparent black comedy appearing to masquerade as a simple children's fairy tale. Some also felt it went beyond where an operatic work should go in its exploitation of the fantastic and grotesque.4 Unlike America, Russia had a long tradition of grotesque comedy. One distinctly Slavic version was known as the kapustnik. A kapustnik (literally, cabbage patch) consisted of improvised skits that often lampooned local themes or matters. Some of Moscow's finest actors and actresses offered kapustniki during the annual Lenten season theater blackout. These included parodies of events in history or of plays produced throughout the

Sergei Radlov: the Shakespearian fate of a Soviet director

First Published in 1996. Professor Zolotnitsky provides a picture of the life and work of Sergei Radlov - one of the most outstanding interpreters of Shakespeare on the Soviet stage in the 1930s. Sergei Radlov started as one of the left-wing directors among the disciples and companions of Vsevolod Meyerhold in post-revolutionary Russia. He directed Jack London, Ernst Toller, Evgeni Zamyatin and updated Aristophanes. In the latter he did modern operas, such as The Love for Three Oranges by Sergei Prokofiev and Der ferne Klang by Franz Schrecker.

The last impresario: the life, times, and legacy of Sol Hurok

This engaging new biography from the author of Sergei Prokofiev fuses a major cultural history of the U.S. with a larger-than-life portrait of Sol Hurok--the man who almost single-handedly introduced American audiences to ballet and brought live dance, music, and theater to small towns and cities across the country. Photos.

War and Peace. Sergei Prokofiev

Journal Article War and Peace. Sergei Prokofiev Get access Dennis W. Wakeling Dennis W. Wakeling Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar The Opera Quarterly, Volume 7, Issue 1, Spring 1990, Pages 227–230, https://doi.org/10.1093/oq/7.1.227 Published: 01 March 1990

Judgements of Value: Selected Writings on Music

Part 1 Personal: critic's task Egon Wellesz as musician and teacher. Part 2 Composers: Giacomo Meyerbeer Carl Maria von Weber Scriabin and Russian Renaissance Sergei Prokofiev Gounod's influence on French music Faure and Hellenistic element in French music. Part 3 world of Music - articles from The Daily Telegraph: styles - art nouveau, pastoralism, pastiche and eclecticism, neo-classicism, baroque opera - The Fiery Angel, Fidelio, Simone Boccanegra, Cosi fan tutte politics and avant-garde - composers and influence of politics, for people - or the people, when theatre takes over from music composers and musicians - Clement Harris, Edward Dent, Hubert Parry, Modest Mussorgsky, Alexander Dargomyzhsky, Francois Couperin, Maurice Ravel, Albert Roussel, George Frideric Handel critical considerations - surprise, novelty, values that pass, humour, competitions, projection in performance, Italy. Part 4 Songs and singers: Schumann's songs Claire Croiza Pauline Viardot. Part 5 On air - contributions to BBC: three broadcast operas - Les Dialogues des Carmelites, Iphigenie en Tauride, Orfeo short thoughts - understanding music, shape and sound, words into music, fast and slow inner thoughts - acquiescence of Jesus. Part 6 Poets and poetry: music in German Novelle, E.T.A. Hoffman, Joseph von Eichendorff, Eduard Morike, Giacomo Leopardi. Part 7 Religious thinkers: Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, Francois de Salignac de la Mothe Fenelon, Friedrich von Hugel, Soren Kierkegaard.

Sergei Prokofiev: A Biography

The prolific creator of such classic popular works as Romeo and Juliet, Cinderella and Peter and the Wolf, Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) was one of the most important composers of the 20th century. This biography offers a detailed portrait of a complex man whose character, and music, combined the traditional and contemporary. Drawing on access to previously unknown or unavailable Russian-language sources, including extensive archival material, Harlow Robinson traces Prokofiev's extraordinary life from the fairy-tale world of Tsarist Russia, through his many years abroad in America and Europe, to his perplexing permanent return to Moscow in 1936 under the Soviet regime. He died on the same day as Josef Stalin, his principal persecutor, in the final irony of an intense and enigmatic career.