Philadelphia Orchestra's "Rite of Spring' (1st review)

Le Sacre du Printemps debuted in the spring of 1913, in Paris. Mindful of every element in that sentence, this weekend Yannick Nézet-Séguin revived Stravinsky's ballet to commemorate its centennial, supervised a staging with the theme of "Spring Awakening" and paired it with a piano concerto by Ravel. For good measure, he opened the program with a Bach-Stokowski transcription.

You might wonder: Aren't the Frenchman Ravel and the German Bach far removed from the Russian landscape of Stravinsky's work? Yet the matchups were cleverly appropriate. All three pieces are linked with the history of the Philadelphia Orchestra and, specifically, its music director from 1912 to 1936.

Leopold Stokowski gave the American premieres of both the Stravinsky and the Ravel compositions and, of course, conducted the world premiere of Stokowski's own Bach orchestration.

French connection

Yannick's juxtaposition made us notice the French coloration in Le Sacre du Printemps, especially in its many lyrical moments. Try to forget, for a moment, that Stravinsky was born and raised in Saint Petersburg, Russia. After he moved to Paris, he immersed himself in that city's innovative culture. There he composed his ballets The Firebird (1910), Petrushka (1911) and finally The Rite of Spring. With the coming of the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia he chose to remain in Paris. Most of his compositions during that time were given French titles: Histoire du Soldat, Les Noces and Renard.

While Stravinsky lived in Paris, in the early 1920s, Leopold Stokowski funneled him regular support through a pseudonymous benefactor.

Conversely, in the opening bars of Ravel's piano concerto we heard sonorities similar to those in the quiet parts of Le Sacre du Printemps (the parts before the off-kilter thump-thump-thumps begin). Later in the Ravel piece we heard allusions to Gershwin. Nézet-Séguin deliciously expounded the concerto's pleasures, abetted by the suave Jean-Yves Thibaudet as soloist.

Stokowski tackles Bach

The Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor was the first Bach composition orchestrated by Stokowski, himself a former organist. He rehearsed it with the Philadelphians for a full season, making changes in the instrumentation, before he led it for public consumption in 1922.

"We used to play that at rehearsals just for the fun of playing it," Stokowski once told me. "I just loved to hear it. It's just such grandiose, such noble music."

That's true whether it's played by the pipes of an organ or pipes like a flute. Yannick led a full-throated rendition that utilized 105 musicians in the Orchestra.

Evoking pagan Russia

The 1913 premiere of The Rite of Spring was choreographed by Vaslav Nijinsky, with stage designs and costumes by Nicholas Roerich. The performance evoked prehistoric pagan Russia, where a maiden was sacrificed each spring. In fact, the work's subtitle was "Pictures of Pagan Russia in two parts." The ballet wasn't performed again until 1920, when Léonide Massine choreographed a new interpretation.

Stokowski led the American premiere of the orchestra-only version in 1922 and the fully-staged ballet in 1930, with Massine recreating his 1920 choreography, Roerich designing new sets and Martha Graham starring as the Chosen One who dances herself to death. The costumes were traditional Russian peasant garb.

Now the ballet has been re-imagined abstractly, without the Russian scenery or costumes, as a depiction of winter followed by the coming of spring. Bob McGrath's New York-based Ridge Theater Company staged it with dancers, video projections and a spectacular aerialist, Anna Kichtchenko. She made use of Verizon Hall's great height, soaring above the Orchestra while entwined with a white silk scarf— moves that matched Stravinsky's equally spectacular music.

Visual distractions?

The first half featured black-and-white film projections by Bill Morrison, using archival footage of frigid Arctic scenes (icebergs, etc.). The second half revealed colorful photos of flowers while a lead dancer in plain attire struggled for a sense of self among four dancers in brightly colored costumes— a letdown, because the women's actions weren't clearly defined or excitingly executed.

Nézet-Séguin led a richly colored interpretation that stressed the score's lyricism more than its propulsive elements. The instrumental solos were meticulously projected.

Some people in the audience complained that the visual elements distracted them from the music. That's why I'm going back to see the piece on March 2, when it will be repeated without the theatrics.♦


To read anotherfreview by Dan Corem, click here
To read another review by Merilyn Jackson, click here.