Prokofiev Suite

These are excellent performances of exceptionally interesting repertoire. Prokofiev himself arranged 19 numbers from his Cinderella ballet for solo piano, so he surely would not have objected in principle to their reworking for two pianos; nor in practice, I suspect, because Pletnev’s arrangements are fabulously idiomatic and the playing here has all the requisite sparkle and drive. Shostakovich’s Op 6 Suite is far too seldom heard. True, it is an apprentice piece and open to criticism – both the first two movements peter out rather unconvincingly and the blend of grandiosity à la Rachmaninov and academic dissection of material à la Taneyev is not always a happy or very original one. But as a learning experience the Suite was a vital springboard for the First Symphony a couple of years later and there is real depth of feeling in the slow movement, as well as intimations elsewhere of the obsessive drive of the mature Shostakovich. What a phenomenally talented 16-year-old he was!

In his ballets the great Soviet composer Sergei Prokofiev continues the long and famous tradition of Russian ballet music, which culminated in the immortal ballets of Tchaikovsky (Nutcracker, Swan Lake). Prokofiev’s genius for characterisation produced such classical “hits” as the Montagues & Capulets (often used in films, commercial and even sporting events!), and the Love Scene of Romeo and Juliet. Also the Cinderella-Waltz from the Cinderella Suite became an evergreen. The ballet Stone Flower is the last Soviet ballet Prokofiev wrote, and although it is little known, it contains music of great beauty and power on an equal level as the famous ballets.

Prokofiev arranged excerpts from his ballet Cinderella for solo piano as three separate suites: the Three Pieces Op. 95, Ten Pieces Op. 97, and Six Pieces Op. 102. Here Olli Mustonen fashions his own extended suite that starts with Op. 95 intact, continues with Op. 97 reordered minus one piece, and concludes with three of the Op. 102 selections. In the main, Mustonen’s amazingly worked-out pianism toes the fine line between brilliant individuality and irritating self-absorption. In Op. 97, for instance, the pianist brings remarkable crispness and élan to the frolicking triplet figurations throughout Fairy Spring and the Grasshoppers and Dragon Flies, and rubs our noses in the Autumn Fairy’s dissonant accents. At times, however, interpretive tics transform the music’s rhythmic profile and thematic resourcefulness into mannered mush. The Op. 95 Pavane is a case in point.

Rather than play any single complete suite (of the three) that Prokofiev extracted from the complete ballet, Myung-Whun Chung makes his own selection of numbers, roughly following the plot line and including music representative of all the major characters. Although some other collections offer more music, this hour of Romeo and Juliet makes a satisfying presentation on its own. What makes the performance special is the spectacular playing of the Dutch orchestra. Frankly, it's never been done better. From the whiplash virtuosity of the violins to the bite of the trombones and the firm thud of the bass drum, this is the sound the composer must have dreamed of.

Aside from having been published consecutively, there isn't much to link Prokofiev's Waltz Suite, Op. 110, with his Symphony No. 6, Op. 111. The waltzes are delightful, charming, elegiac, a little bit creepy, but always ingratiating. The Symphony No. 6 is powerful, lyrical, tragic, very scary, and always monumental. The only thing they really have in common is Prokofiev's skill as an orchestrator and his powerful idenity as a composer. In this 1994 recording by Theodore Kuchar and the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine, both works are fully characterized and completely compelling. The waltzes are fey and affectionate with dancing rhythms and enchanting melodies. The symphony is massive and frightening with achingly beautiful themes and deeply tragic structures.

Throughout his career, Sergei Prokofiev wrote a large number of works for the stage – some of them highly successful, others less so. Whichever the case, Prokofiev would rarely miss the opportunity of recycling the score in one way or another – staying more or less close to the original in an orchestral suite or using it as material for a completely new work, such as the Third and Fourth symphonies (based on the ballet The Prodigal Son and the opera The Fiery Angel, respectively.) The present disc combines suites created from Prokofiev’s very first opera (The Gambler, 1915–17) and his very last ballet (The Stone Flower, 1948–53). Based on a short novel by Dostoyevsky, The Gambler doesn’t have separate numbers that can easily be detached.

Is Prokofiev's Scythian Suite a deliberate parody of Stravinsky's La sacra du printemps? On the basis of Valery Gergiev's recording of it, yes, it is. Gergiev's interpretation is comic and a big, brutal slapstick Stravinsky with bone-crushing percussion and brain-rattling brass, with squealing winds and skittering strings. Gergiev's rhythms in "The Enemy God" and the "Dance of the Black Spirits" have the subtlety of a pie in the face and his colors in "Night and in Procession of the Sun" have the nuance of a pratfall. Gergiev's interpretation is not only the funniest ever recorded, it is also the most accurate representation of the score and the best ever recorded.