Pomade kiraly uj ruhaja (review)

This is a Magyarized treatment of Hans Christian Andersen's famous fairy tale "The Emperor's New Clothes." György Ránki (1907-1992) originally conceived it as a one-acter with narration connecting the various fast-moving scenes. Its instant success in 1950 encouraged the Hungarian State Opera to commission Ránki to expand the work into three acts, adding a romantic subplot and replacing the spoken narrations with recitative passages. In this form the opera failed, but Ránki drew two very successful orchestral suites from the material to which the public eagerly responded. (His experience parallels that of Ránki's onetime teacher, Zoltán Kodály, whose Háry János Suite is enjoyed by a huge worldwide audience barely aware of the opera that was its source.) Acknowledging the failure of King Pomade's inflated three-act version, Ránki undertook a final stage revision in two brief acts amounting to seventy-four minutes or so. It was broadcast in 1979 and, in all likelihood, yielded the present recording—a detail left unclarified by the otherwise informative booklet annotations.

Ránki was a survivor of Hungary's turbulent years of Nazism and Communism, during which his musical activities were largely limited to film scores and radio. His idiom is basically neoclassic, with a characteristic ironic bent suggesting Stravinsky and Prokofiev, but its Hungarian coloration, instantly revealed in the brief Prelude, clearly points to a strong identification with Kodály.

King Pomade is Andersen's "Emperor," an intellectually challenged, fashion-obsessed despot surrounded by cowardly and terrified courtiers. (The opera was written during Stalin's rule, but apparently Hungary's then Communist government didn't get the message.) Ránki's gift for orchestral color is imaginatively manifest in the mini-ballet as the king admires his elegant wardrobe of Scottish plaids, festive Arabian attire, and decorative Chinese robes, all displayed against the appropriate musical background. As preparations anticipate the festive gala honoring the king's name day (track 17), the frantic activity begins with a characteristic boogie-woogie musical pattern that soon escalates into the style of Khatchaturian at his catchiest. This is music for entertainment, to be sure, strongest in its orchestral elements. The few arias are brief and well written for the voices, the ensembles are clever, but the recitatives are secco to the point of aridity.

The poetic text (by Amy Károlyi) comes across with a clarity and pungency the rough English translation cannot quite capture. The cast features front-line Hungarian artists of a generation ago. In the title role, József Gregor, a natural comedian, revels in his Osmin-like cavernous register. As the two impish con artists Dani and Béni, bent on creating a magic attire that is visible only to people of exceptional gifts and brilliance but not seen by mere mortals, tenor Sándor Palcsó and baritone József Dene are perfect. Baritone Zsolt Bende delivers the dress-master's entertaining patter song with verve. Except for the tremulous Eva Andor (as the jester), all the other interpreters contribute to a smooth ensemble under Géza Oberfrank's nimble direction.

In its present condensed form, King Pomade's New Clothes, if properly staged, with a brief interlude separating the two acts, could provide lively entertainment. The recorded version, in excellent sound, is worth exploring.