Prokofiev Suites

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.

Of the major works of Sergei Prokofiev, none (apart perhaps from Peter and the Wolf) have become so well loved by a wide audience as the ballets Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet. From the stage productions, to the orchestral suites, to the piano versions, many of these pieces are universally recognised.

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.

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.

Libor Pešek offers a fulsome selection of Romeo and Juliet excerpts–more than 71 minutes’ worth. Rather than the usual suites, Pešek’s selections follow the order of their appearance in the full ballet, thereby creating a cogent narrative (as opposed to Prokofiev’s own suites that, while not necessarily following the story line, are nonetheless dramatically effective). Pešek proves a fine ballet conductor, ever alert to the music’s rhythm, energy, and color. He beautifully shapes Folk Dance, Friar Lawrence, and Juliet’s Funeral, taking care to highlight rhythms and accents while pointing up the music’s drama. The balcony scene flows smoothly yet surges with unabashed feeling at the climaxes.

Captured in the Maly Hall of the Moscow Conservatory where much of Prokofiev's work was first heard, it's surprising to find so many aspects of the composer's style represented, from the Romanticism of the early Ballade through the spiky dissonances of Chout to the elegiac, unfinished Solo Sonata. Aided by characterful piano-playing by Tatyana Lazareva, Ivashkin's recital compares most favourably with his similar programme on Ode for which he was accompanied by a more reticent pianist; although the earlier disc includes the Concertino movement in the guise of Rostropovich's cello quintet arrangement, the absence of the Chout transmogrification makes the Chandos collection appear better value.

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.

It was George Szell who made the Cleveland Orchestra into a highly responsive virtuoso body, and when he died in 1970 he was in due course succeeded by Lorin Maazel, himself a renowned orchestral trainer. Here is Maazel's first Cleveland recording, notable for a quite outstanding quality of orchestral playing. The strings in particular have a remarkable depth of tone, though they play with great delicacy when it is needed; but then the orchestra as a whole plays with extraordinary virtuosity, tonal weight and exactness of ensemble. If the woodwind have a somewhat piquant blend this suits the music, which throughout is admirably served by Maazel's highly rhythmic, dramatic conducting.