Israel Nestyev's biography of Prokofiev (Oxford University Press)—still, for all its propagandizing, the most comprehensive we have—regrets that his music for the film Ivan the terrible was never turned into a concert work; and in the same year that the book was published, 1961, Abram Stasevich made just such a version. It has been recorded before—by EMI with the Philharmonia and Muti (HMV SLS110, 4/78—nla) and by Vox with the St Louis Symphony Orchestra and Slatkin (3-VCL9004X, 2/82—nla)—but the present version derives from the 1984 Sofia Festival.
What Stasevich did was to take all the better and more substantial pieces, put them back in the chronological order which Eisenstein's flashbacks disturbed, and link them with a narrative. It is here spoken by Boris Morgunov in a manner suggesting that the old Russian tradition of ham acting is still alive and well despite the various reforms of the Russian theatre; but then, all who have been seized by Eisenstein's film will find it a valid counterpart to his memorable sequences of grimacing, frowning, leering, snarling, ogling, grinning, sneering boyars and people. Whether or not the result is a valid work of art is highly disputable. Stasevich would probably not claim more than to have rescued for music-lovers some of Prokofiev's more vivid snatches of musical imagery; and in any case, the Russian film-makers have a better respect for the musicians they employ than the Americans do. There is some real music here. Prokofiev always meant to rewrite it into something more substantial, and he did go so far as to re-use some of the music. We must, therefore, not complain too much of disjointed numbers held together by a rather trivial narration, but enjoy what there is here preserved.
And there is certainly some good quality Prokofiev to enjoy. The scenes that come off best are the warlike or aggressive ones, including those concerned with the Siege of Kazan (nice to think that the troops included young Varlaam, later to turn up with his campaign reminiscences in Boris Godunov). There is also a vivid description of the founding of the Oprichniks, true ancestors of the KGB. The charming women's chorus about the turtle-doves praising young Ivan does not come off as it might as all the choruses are rather dimly recorded (whereas the narrator seems to be seizing us by the shoulders and bawling directly into our faces). The orchestral playing is fair, and fairly recorded both on LP and on CD. One incidental superiority of the LP is the insoluble one of the accompanying booklet, a mingy little affair on CD. It does, however, have the same contents, namely a text in French and English (no Russian) with a prefatory essay by Odile Martine translated, not always felicitously, by David Giles: ''remarquable'' and ''inoubliable'' both come out as ''incredible'', and the narrator's role ''a la maniere du choeur antique'' is given as ''in the style of an antique choir'' instead of ''chorus''.'