Mamontov's Private Opera: The Search for Modernism in Russian Theater

7 Politics, Repertory, and the Market

208 seven Politics, Repertory, and the Market Throughout this book, we have discussed Mamontov’s aesthetic principles and their application to his innovative approach to the operatic genre, as staged drama realized through visual spectacle. Mamontov had a well-deserved reputation as a fountain of creative ideas, ranging from the reasonable and practical all the way to the wild, unachievable, and just plain ridiculous. Some succeeded brilliantly, making his company ’s reputation; others flopped spectacularly, either in rehearsal, or worse, in front of a live audience. Contemporary press reviews of MPO productions and initiatives are today the most accessible barometer of Mamontov’s public triumphs and his equally public failures. Ideologically biased, politically polarized, acolytes, foes, or allegedly neutral, dispassionate observers, Russian theater critics wrote constantly about the company. To this point, these writings have been invoked as a means of documenting which of Mamontov’s ideas made it onto the MPO stage and became visible (and often controversial) enough to warrant mention in the dailies. Meanwhile, the creative process itself has been analyzed as a kind of art for art’s sake—intensely focused on the nature and expression of its own artistry, impacted by a variety of aesthetic and performative trends in which its participants were involved, but seemingly unaffected by the “reality” of the company’s existence: the constant fluctuations and attendant pressures of the theater market. Mamontov would have loved it, if only it were so. To his grudging acknowledgment and occasional dismay, the reactions of the public and the press intruded constantly on his decision-making process, as well politics, repertory, and the market · 209 as shaping the public face of his company and its historical legacy. The present chapter will examine MPO’s often difficult relationship with the press as a reflection of the complex politics of the Russian opera market in the 1890s. One October day in 1898, composer Nikolai Krotkov, an occasional visitor to these pages, sent a letter to his friend and collaborator, Mamontov , in which he outlined an idea for a fanciful project they might one day undertake together. He rhapsodized: Imagine a theater proscenium; behind it, there are two images of “something ,” one heavy, mediocre, but pompous; another young, full of genius, life, and high aspirations. . . . General character—fantasy, images—light, transparent, the colors of Goethe and Schumann. . . . The breadth and richness of your thought and imagination will find a suitable realization for these two main characters, and will surround them with other, secondary images full of poetry. These are the symbols of artistic growth on the stages of the Bolshoi Theater and the Private Opera. The parallels are masked. What do you think? The form is a one-act fantasy opera with your libretto and my music. Premiere in the near future.1 Had Krotkov truly intended to be cryptic with his allegory, few initiates would have been at a loss to penetrate such a thin disguise. From the moment its doors opened to the paying public, the Moscow Private Opera effectively announced its intention to be treated as a professional, commercial enterprise. As such, it was immediately placed in symbolic opposition to Moscow’s most venerable operatic institution—the mighty Imperial Bolshoi Theater.2 The Bolshoi had every advantage entering this competition: tradition; the prestige of a “model operatic stage” that attracted choice performing forces; an excellent building with superior acoustics; and, last but not least, the limitless financial resources of the Imperial court. Mamontov was keenly aware that his fledgling company was viewed as a brazen upstart defying an operatic Goliath. Carefully and deliberately , he marketed the MPO’s rebel image. The underdog status was relished, trumpeted, used to fire up the troops and shore up support— in a word, to take maximum advantage of the rivalry. His team truly believed they were fighting an uphill battle with the entire Imperial establishment; even the Maly Drama Theater would come under fire should it dare to stage a classical play with a suspiciously operatic sub- 210 · mamontov’s private opera ject. Apart from raising the troupe’s morale, there were also commercial reasons for Mamontov to stoke the fire. After all, the Moscow theaters were ultimately competing for the same audience, as we can discern from the Novosti Dnya review of the opening night of Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Maid of Pskov: There was a large audience despite the fact that on the same night...