Speaking of Diaghilev by John Drummond, Faber & Faber, 382pp, £20 in UK
In this book John Drummond explores the phenomenon of Serge Diaghilev, one of the most extraordinary artistic directors of the century (Sacheverell Sitwell said that Diaghilev very much disliked the word "impresario", with its implication of management rather than creativity). He mounted exhibitions, concerts and operas but was most famous for his Russian Ballet, which performed from 1909 to his death in 1929.
He grew up in a world where "Uncle Petia" was Tchai,kovsky and his aunt's accompanist was Mussorgsky ("Tomorrow I'm going to sing. Don't forget to send for Mussorgsky"). The presence of these figures deeply affected Diaghilev and contributed enormously to his insight into artistic matters. His confidence was such that he felt able to ask Stravinsky, Debussy and Ravel to modify their work - rather like having a word with God.
Among those who promote the arts he possessed those rare qualities of innate understanding and ability to recognise work of real value. He revolutionised dance, theatre design, lighting, and was a catalyst for some of the greatest music of our time. What is there to say about the judgment of someone who employs as his set designers Picasso, Matisse, Utrillo and Braque? He commissioned Stravinsky, Debussy, Ravel, Satie, Poulenc, Prokofiev and Richard Strauss. His choreographers included Fokine, Nijinsky and Balanchine. How tame things are now by comparison. Collaboration on that scale and level has not happened since and seems impossible for the foreseeable future.
John Drummond was for many years Director of the Edinburgh Festival, the BBC Proms and music on BBC Radio 3. He has clearly been inspired by Diaghilev's role, has a vivid sense of things, is passionate, amusing and worth listening to. He describes Diaghilev's ad hoc existence of risks, triumphs and disasters: al-ways a free agent, policy made by him, not even the bank intervening. On public funding in England Drummond says:
Increasingly these timorous would-be supporters, and I can- not exclude from this stricture the Arts Council, shelter behind words such as `accessibility'and `accountability'. They justify their own lack of vision by refusing it to others. But if giving the public what it already knows is all that can be done, you are already in a spiral of decline.
All the subsidy in the world won't fill an imaginative vacuum, which is where I think modern dance is at present. Choreographers like Merce Cunningham and Pina Bausch are rare. Overwhelmingly we have choreographers whose every gesture is deeply felt and mediocre. I suppose one has to subsidise worthy (vaguely) ventures in the hope that someone will eventually appear who can avail of the financial support. In the meantime many sincere, flailing bodies have to be borne.
Drummond interviewed the surviving members of the Ballets Russes and his book is valuable for this, though they don't say anything terribly unexpected, though amusing sides to Diaghilev's concern with image become apparent. Some of the company who were not Russian were given Russian names by him; stars are not called Hilda Munnings. She first became Munningsova and then Sokolova. The Irish woman Edris Stannus from Baltyboys chose her own name, Ninette de Valois. Diaghilev hated it - "Half tart, half royal family of France." She went on to found the Royal Ballet and was certainly a force - more a good general than a great artist, according to Drummond. A dancer told me how aghast the company was when at a rehearsal of a Fokine ballet Dame Ninette rounded on them and shouted: "You don't have the Fokine style!"
For us now the most important, notorious event in the history of the Ballets Russes was the premier of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. It managed to be both a great work of art and a great scandal, changing utterly the position of music in the 20th century. There is an intriguing ac-count of Drummond's meeting with Stravinsky (yellowish Chilprufe vest under his pyjamas) in a Paris hotel. "Ask me questions, my dear." He recalled his first meeting with Diaghilev in the latter's St Petersburg flat. A "haughty servant opened the door and said "Sit down and wait."
Laughter could be heard from an inner room. Time passed.
You know, I was young, but al-ready impatient. I grew restless. After twenty minutes I got up and moved to the front door. As I grasped the handle, a voice behind me said "Stravinsky, pridite, pridite", come in. I went in. You know my dear, I've often wondered, if I'd opened that door, whether would have written Le Sacre du Printemps.
He agreed to co-operate with Drummond for a fee of fifty guin-eas, but in the end was too ill to.
A young, sweaty, hot, insecure Cecil Beat on left this image of Diaghilev:
Very grand seigneur. Immaculate. He moved slowly. He had to turn his whole head round, his whole body round, if he wanted to look over his shoulder. He spoke quietly. He was rather like a sort of chinchilla. He was pale, grey, and had marvellous pale-grey hair, pale-grey suit with pearl-grey stud. He had a mouth rather like a shark, and a marvellous poreless complexion, and was extremely suave. I don't know bow anybody in the heat of the day in Venice could retain such serenity.
CDs of Gerald Barry`s opera The Triumph of Beauty and Deceit and of his Orchestral music will be issued this month.