Symphony of Sirens music module

Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) nicely illustrates the possibility that modernism and neoclassicism were not necessarily mutually exclusive, and consequently we will dwell on him as an ambivalent figure who managed at times to thrive amid the vague dictates of Socialist Realism (never forgetting that he also suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as well). Shortly before Prokofiev left Petrograd in May 1918 (arriving in America in September), Vsevolod Meyerhold handed him a copy of the avant-garde journal Love for Three Oranges, named after an eighteenth-century commedia dell'arte play which he urged the young composer to adapt for the operatic stage. Prokofiev began sketching in 1919 and maintained his enthusiasm for Meyerhold's "opera of the future" even as he busied himself making a living through concertizing. After several misfires and disagreements with producers, the thirty-year-old composer finally premiered the work in Chicago late in 1921 (Berlin and Leningrad followed in 1926, Moscow in 1927, but Paris not until 1956!).

Echoing Mayakovsky, this was yet another slap in the face of tradition. Prokofiev dispensed with the usual chorus in favor of groups of onlookers (Comicals, Tragicals, Lyricals, Empty-heads, and Eccentrics) who provide a satirical commentary on the action. Although we have been deliberately avoiding the complications introduced by considering opera (and by extension, theater) in this course, it is worth considering a single scene from Love for Three Oranges, if only to illustrate the importance of irony as a device for retaining both tonality and a spirit of technical innovation simultaneously. Without elaborating on the deliberately ridiculous plot, let me quote from Noëlle Mann's program notes for Act Three, scene 3:

  

Here "even the ubiquitous love-duet falls prey to irony. As the Prince cuts open the third orange, he discovers Princess Ninetta, with whom he immediately falls in love. Their lyrical dialogue, with Debussy-like melodic lines and orchestration is brusquely interrupted by the Eccentrics noisily looking for a bucket of water to prevent the Princess dying of thirst. As the two lovers join in ecstatic happiness, the Lyricals and Eccentrics argue in the background; the heavenly chorus of the lyricals express their relief at having witnessed at last a truly romantic and moving drama, as one should expect on the stage; while the Eccentrics, in a mechanical ostinato [repeated rhythm], ask them to keep quiet for fear of disturbing the lovers. This scene vividly illustrates Prokofiev's visceral dislike of melodramatic situations which, to him, were synonymous with bad taste and tediousness. By treating theatrical effects with irony, he avoided sentimentality and boredom."