"VERY NICE!!!!!"
The libretto was in place, the music was composed, the costume
designs were well on their way to completion, and thus, The
Sleeping Beauty entered active production in early 1889.
And in so doing, it provides us with one of the more complete
stories of the workings and reworkings of the Maryinsky Ballet
when involved in the creation of a major new work. Popular tastes
were going to have to be addressed if the production were to
have any chance of a success, and since the opening of private
theaters in Russia, the foreign dancer was well-attended in the
land. At first it was thought that a very good result could be
had in signing Virginia Zucchi to create the title role, but
Zucchi had proved temperamental, even bad-tempered in dancing
roles in the Imperial Theaters; it was with a great deal of relief
that management could turn to a dancer unfamiliar to Petersburg
audiences, but with a record of success with Russian audiences-the
notoriously tough Moscow! This dancer was Carlotta Brianza.
The rehearsals began with Petipa
and Tchaikovsky working very hard on refining the ideas which
the balletmaster had originally written out for the composer.
Tchaikovsky was not terribly ruffled by Petipa's instructions,
deeming them little more than advisory. He often did not do as
he had been bidden, and the rehearsal period was the choreographer's
time to demonstrate that he had meant business about what he
wanted! Of course, he was not hidebound, and some of Tchaikovsky's
ideas appealed to him, and they stayed, no matter what the scenario
said. Give-and-take was the rule in this rehearsal period, with
the entire artistic staff functioning as a team, and creating
art successfully, by committee.
Petipa addressed the issue of further
casting, on the level beneath that of the stars (ever-faithful,
ever-popular Pavel Gerdt was a natural for the Prince) by inviting
the sensational Enrico Cecchetti to add his inimitable mime ability
and virtuoso technique to the roles of Carabosse and the Bluebird,
respectively. Cecchetti had danced at the Maryinsky before and
was well-liked in Petersburg. He had an unusually large number
of featured dancers to cast, given a pas de six in the prologue,
interim dances in the hunting scene, and the great divertissement
in the last act, and all were filled from Maryinsky resources.
The only cavil that some seem to have had with his casting seem
to have stemmed from apparent nepotism. The Lilac Fairy, a plum
role, was given to his daughter, Marie. Now, Marie was not a
very accomplished classical dancer, but her mime was very strong
indeed, and perhaps he thought that he could get away with it,
but lingering stories exist of the grumbling that existed over
this one bit of favoritism. In fact, Marie was to appear in a
tutu in the prologue, dancing a variation notoriously easy, while
in the first and subsequent acts, she appeared wearing a costume
described as a "chemise", a sort of nightgowny thing,
and wearing heeled pumps. In the 1970s, when the Kirov was starting
to get its archives under control for the first time in years,
a photograph of Marie surfaced, showing her in the post-prologue
costume. Several companies responded immediately to this new
information, not waiting for the rest of the story to emerge-they
immediately upped the number of good fairies in the prologue
from six to seven!
Petipa also was being influenced
in the composition of the dances by his avocations. While arranging
the pas de six, the balletmaster attended a popular series of
scientific lectures, and one featured a large static- electricity
generator which charged batteries, deflected compasses, and did
all those electric things that had been entertaining folks since
the days of Benjamin Franklin nearly 150 years earlier. (Franklin
read with interest of the Petersburger who attempted his kite-flying
in a thunderstorm and was killed as a result. "Better him
than me" was the attitude, for Franklin had never once performed
the experiment!) One moment in the demonstration came when the
lecturer, well-insulated from the ground, extended a finger toward
the generator's discharge end, and a large, noisy, showy, but
harmless spark jumped from the latter to the former. Eureka!
The "Finger Variation" for fairy Violente was born!
As the rehearsals progressed, other
structural changes were admitted. The beautiful entr'acte (intended
for Maryinsky concertmaster Leopold Auer) that Tchaikovsky composed
to bridge the Panorama scene with the awakening was cut in order
to make the work shorter. The great march which opens Act III
has penciled into the margin in Petipa's hand, "Cut the
march. Everybody's onstage. It's too long!" So, measures
65-72 and 81-8 and their repeats were out! For some reason, the
sarabande intended to be danced by quadrilles of Turks, Ethiopians,
Africans, and American Indians in the style of the ballet de
cour changed the middle two races into Romans, Persians, and
(east) Indians. Probably this change reflects what costumes were
available to "borrow" from other productions. Petipa
appears to have also listened to his dancers. As originally scheduled,
the Bluebird and Princess Florine and Cinderella and Prince Fortune'
were to dance a pas de quatre to the music now well-known as
the "Bluebird pas de deux". Cecchetti is said to have
leaned on Petipa a bit to expand his role and give him a solo
variation in a full pas de deux. The choreographer approved of
the idea, and switched off poor Cinderella and her prince to
a comic duet which has been lost except to notation. The Princess
Florine and her pet Bluebird, however....
For all the unity of composition
of the other aspects of the production, it must have been at
least interesting to watch the scenery being put together, for
no fewer than five designers are listed as originators. At least
one of these designers, Ivanov, was commander of the Finnish
Guards, whose soldiers were routinely used by the Maryinsky as
stagehands. George Balanchine remembered them forming up to march
off after performances of Le Corsaire, where they manhandled
the shipwreck scene to memorable effect! With all the great popularity
of Beauty today, it seems odd that it should have met with such
a namby-pamby acceptance at its premiere on January 3rd (Julian-Russian)/15th
(Gregorian-Western), 1890. While it wasn't disliked, it was damned
with faint praise by press and public alike. Tchaikovsky's diary
recalled that when presented to Tsar Alexander III, his Majesty
had complimented the composer, "Very nice!!!!!(5 exclamation
points in the original)