PROKOFIEV: Ivan the Terrible (arr. Stasevich), Op. 116 – Arnold Voketaitas, narrator/ Claudina Carlson, mezzo-soprano/ Samuel Timberlake, bass/ St. Louis Symphony Chorus and Orchestra/ Leonard Slatkin – Vox NX-3045CD (72:23) (10/26/24) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
In 1944 director Sergei Eisenstein (1898-1948) realized a cinematic commission from Soviet dictator Josef Stalin to commemorate the historical Ivan Grozny, Tsar Ivan IV “the Terrible,” whom Stalin admired for his decisiveness and ineluctable force of will. While the Russian Revolution of 1917 had destroyed the actual descendants of the Royal Family, their usefulness as cultural icons could serve as political propaganda for national aims. The original film concept involved a trilogy from Eisenstein, centered on the years 1533-1565, covering Ivan’s youth and ascendancy to power in 1547 at age 16; the Boyal conspiracy to dissolve his power; and the Tsar’s last days of paranoid autocracy. Besides assembling a talented cast led by Nikolay Cherkasov in the titular role, Eisenstein once more called upon the musical gifts of Sergei Prokofiev, with whom he had, in 1938, collaborated on the film Alexandre Nevsky.
Given Prokofiev’s penchant for epic, operatic scoring, he invited librettist Vladimir Lugovskoy, whose comprehensive knowledge of folk tunes and liturgical, Russian Orthodox chants would add authenticity to the vast score. In a Wagnerian manner, Prokofiev invented a series of leitmotifs to characterize the dualism in Ivan’s personality: his grandly imposing regal self and the intimately personal, often tormented human being. In 1961, Abram Stasevich (1907-1971) adapted Prokofiev’s cinematic structure as an oratorio in 25 sections, using the film script and employing a narrator who would describe and comment on the action and also serve in the role of Ivan. The Stasevich arrangement evolved after Stalin himself discredited Part II of the trilogy and ordered the project scrapped.
Part I had received censure from Andrei Zhdanov, spokesman for the Central Committee of the Communist Party, which had initiated a series of attacks on independent writers, poets, thinkers, and film-makers, that ensured that Eisenstein’s career was at an end. Stalin had wanted heroic iconography to replace historical accuracy, calling the depiction of the Oprichniki, the equivalent of the personal Praetorian Guard to Ivan, “a band of degenerates, similar to the American Ku Klux Klan,” rather than as a progressive army of loyal militia. Ivan himself should have been a man of indomitable will and character, not a weak, spineless doubter in the manner of Hamlet. The condemned part of Ivan the Terrible was released for public view in 1958, by permission of Nikita Khrushchev. With the death of Sergei Eisenstein, Prokofiev felt his cinematic work finished forever, and he too came under censure for “structural formalism,” a condemnation he did not shed until after his death in 1953, on the exact day of Stalin’s own death.
For this March 1979 performance Leonard Slatkin chose to present the narration in English, while the sung portions reman in Russian, thus preserving continuity and linguistic authenticity, at once. The grund-gestalt or grounding context Prokofiev establishes immediately, in the theme for the Overture, the leitmotif that reappears at key moments in the unfolding drama. Horns and battery proclaim the arrival of a new Russian autocrat, Ivan, while the chorus engages the context of an uprising in the making, “a black cloud” infiltrated with Boyar treachery. Shrieking, high pitched woodwinds and brass accents announce the “March of the young Ivan.” The mezzo-soprano Carlson intones with the chorus “Ocean-Sea,” a longing to engage in Baltic trade so Russia may enjoy the commercial means that lead to prosperity.
Ivan announces his intent to rule without the Boyars, “I will be Tsar.” This and the following three scenes depict Ivan’s coronation, The Kyrie Eleison proclaims that a single power shall direct all military efforts, and even those monies held by religious monasteries must be directed to Russia’s defense. “The Simpleton” introduces the counter-theme of political and psychological treason, a dissonant and manic exercise, as Yefrosiniya plots to overthrow Ivan so his own idiot son Vladimir might rise to the throne. Prokofiev utilizes two traditional wedding songs for “The White Swan,” celebrating the marriage of Ivan and Anastasiya. The “Song of Praise” sets a serene, almost bucolic reverence in the atmosphere, a revelation of the tender human being in Ivan, apart from the resolute monarch. Ivan warns the conspiratorial Boyars that “the sword you shall know,” invoking the scene “On the Bones of Foes.” The sudden appearance of “The Tartars” announces a campaign, in modal, “oriental” harmonies, against Moscow by the Golden Horde. But Ivan decrees that his army shall march against Kazan, the Tartar capital. The militant chorus intones the justice of Ivan’s cause.
Sergei Prokofiev,
circa 1918
Similar to the “Battle on the Ice” in Alexandre Nevsky, the sequence “To Kazan” offers an extended, darkly realistic portrait of the Russians hauling cannons in step with a grim Marca brutale. The low woodwinds add to the lugubrious colors in the hushed chorus, particularly since in the film men place coins in a great dish, and those which remain unclaimed later testify to the body count. A virile trumpet blast announces the assault on Kazan after explosions below ground have destroyed the Kazan defenses. The next scene, “Ivan Pleads with the Boyars,” plays as a martial dirge, the ailing Ivan’s attempting to ensure his son Dimitri’s succession to the throne. Those loyal to Ivan’s heroic vision must kiss Dimitri’s cross.
In “Yefrosiniya and Anastasiya,” the pathos deepens, since Anastasiya has been poisoned, now that the traitor Yefrosiniya is fully committed to the Boyars’ revolt. The most macabre section, “Song of the Beaver,” Yefrosiniya intones an evil lullaby for her half-wit son Vladimir, fervently rejoicing in the murder of Anastasiya. A muted chorus reveals “Ivan at the Coffin of Anastasiya.” Next, the murderous Oprichniki vibrate with blood lust, vowing to “sweep clean all evil-doers.” The female vocal music that rises echoes with the opening of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. The thumping beats mark Vladimir’s destruction, just at the moment his mother feels gladness at Ivan’s death. The bass aria “The Song of Feodor Basmanov” bristles with the rhythmic energy we know from Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, now moving to the equally feral “Dance of the Oprichniki,” a festival for brass and battery effects.
Slatkin next opts to include the “Polonaise” from the original film score, a moment of courtly gallantry, despite the ironies involved. The “Finale” achieves an appropriate apotheosis, chorus, brass, and bells resounding in the best Mussorgsky tradition. Ivan’s image now is illumined “on the bones of foes, on their funeral pyres.” The narrator proclaims, “A mighty mission shall I complete,” and the attendant fanfares affirm that Ivan’s destiny has been fulfilled. For that matter, so has director Eisenstein’s cinematic vision found a fitting, epic response.
–Gary Lemco
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