Born in 1840, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky stands as the first Russian composer to make a lasting mark on the international stage. Recognised for his vast compositional output – from ballets, operas, and symphonies to chamber music and even vocal settings of the Russian Orthodox liturgy – Tchaikovsky managed to assimilate the deeply-rooted Russian national style with the compositional influences of Western musical greats, blending his personal, expressive voice with searingly descriptive and evocative programmatic materials set within uniquely-crafted and richly-colourful orchestrations. A lover of dance, Tchaikovsky was at one point accused – arbitrarily – of writing symphonies that were too balletic and ballet scores that were too symphonic, though certainly audiences then and now can appreciate the best of both worlds the composer managed to synthesise in each of his celebrated ballet scores.
Comprising two acts, Tchaikovsky’s beloved ballet, The Nutcracker, gave the composer quite a headache during its gestation. Adapted from E.T.A. Hoffman’s The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, the ballet’s story proved a bit limiting for the composer. When the choreographer Marius Petipa presented Tchaikovsky with the synopsis, annotated with detailed, bar-by-bar musical ideas, Tchaikovsky exclaimed simply, “I am experiencing a crisis”. Initially reluctant to commit to such a project, the tragic death of his sister, Sasha, eventually proved to be the motivator for the distressed composer. Scholars have argued convincingly that the iconic Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker is inspired by Sasha herself, and others have paid witness to countless scenes from the ballet that may allude to their personal childhoods laced within the fantasy and magic of Tchaikovsky’s score.
The Nutcracker and I opens with music taken from the Magic Castle, Scene 10, Act II of the ballet. Arranged for piano by Tchaikovsky himself, the score takes full advantage of the composer’s original writing for harp. The score begins with lilting nostalgia, brilliantly evoking an air of reverie and capturing the ethereal transition from real life to a living dream. The piano colours this feeling of otherworldliness with glistening shimmers, transporting our protagonist into a new realm of “The Magic Castle in the Land of the Sweets” that is filled with infinite possibilities and dreams.
Tchaikovsky’s Miniature Overture is imbued with nimble-footed, festive joy. Its captivating gestures rest most in the treble register, and Stépan Esipoff’s arrangement for solo piano takes full advantage of the composer’s original writing, allowing the sparkling keys of the piano to gleam and flourish with radiant vitality. Setting the scene for the ballet, the twinkle of the piano arrangement invokes a music box, from which a ballerina doll emerges and turns with every glimmering note.
Act I of Tchaikovsky’s ballet takes place at a Christmas party, during which Clara is gifted a Nutcracker. Arranged for piano by Gavin Sutherland, the scene cleverly opens with an allusion to a grandfather clock’s subtle ticking. The melodic gestures build in excitement as Clara’s brother fights with her over the Nutcracker, inevitably breaking it. The sweeping piano lines offer a sense of wizardry as the toy is reconstituted in full, seemingly mending it with a touch of magic.
The ensuing March, arranged for piano by Mikhail Pletnev, offers the iconic theme from The Nutcracker, with its archetypal fanfare utilising triplets to highlight the 4/4 metre. Checking in on the Nutcracker, Clara’s spirits are buoyed by Pletnev’s virtuosic treatment of Tchaikovsky’s writing, with glorious runs in the piano embellishing the main march motif with great aplomb.
In The Battle, Clara is confronted by mice filling the living room, growing larger and larger in size. Sutherland’s piano treatment of Tchaikovsky’s score is particularly effective, taking full advantage of the percussive capabilities of the piano in highlighting drama and danger with repeating, unrelenting rhythmic gestures. With the Nutcracker jumping down to defend Clara, accompanied by descending scales in the piano, Clara eventually joins the fight with bravery and triumph. The propulsive, whirling writing captures the frenzy of combat, full of tension and danger, before the mice scurry away in defeat.
The music takes a turn for the dreamy, as Clara discovers the Nutcracker in human form as the Prince from The Land of the Sweets. Tchaikovsky’s score is lush, and Pletnev’s piano arrangement captures this intimate moment, one full of wonder and fascination. In this Pas de Deux in the Snow, the Prince offers to take Clara to his kingdom, and the piano writing surges and expands with more and more grandiosity and soaring virtuosity as the two take flight. The dimming dynamics echo the glimmering houses below as they fly away into the distance, and the filigreed arpeggiation in the piano sets the mood for all the fascinating magic and marvel that is to come.
Arriving at The Land of the Sweets, Clara is introduced to the Sugar Plum Fairy, who was in charge of the Magic Castle during the Prince’s absence. The iconic Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, which is in fact part of a set of variations in Act II’s Pas de Deux, translates perfectly from Tchaikovsky’s original orchestration to piano. Capturing the sparkle of the original instrument, the celesta, Pletnev seizes its bell-like quality with grace and elegance.
The Tarantella, also drawn from the same Pas de Deux, offers a series of free-flowing triplets. Pletnev’s piano arrangement is particularly effective, taking full advantage of the instrument’s ability to punctuate certain consonances and conjuring excited and passionate discourse between friends old and new.
The “Divertissement”, a sequence of dances associated with characters from different countries, is presented to Clara as a gesture of thanks for saving the Prince. Arabian Dance, with its exotic tonality, features accompaniment similar to a Georgian lullaby. The low, repeated left hand of the piano, as arranged by Esipoff, provides a lush bed of pulsating notes for the plaintive melody. With such an alluring motif, Tchaikovsky paints a colourful world that is at once unfamiliar yet heartwarming.
The Trepak, a Russian dance, begins with a lively steadiness, and with each iteration of the main theme, Pletnev’s piano arrangement adds more and more ornamentation, particularly in the right hand. Its rhythmic constancy quickly subsides as the dance readily accelerates towards a rumbustious finish.
The Chinese Dance, a fleeting moment with plucked accompaniment in Tchaikovsky’s score, features a virtuosic and dynamic flute solo. Mirrored in Pletnev’s arrangement, the low pounding of the left hand on the piano grounds this dance, contrasted sharply by the fleeting melodic flourishes in the right hand. The alternating high and low notes traded between the two hands prove to be more than well-suited for the piano.
Dance of the Reed Flutes presents a trio of flutes underscored by plucked lower strings. Esipoff’s piano version manages to capture the airiness of the flutes, all the while finding the vast timbre difference between the flighty, treble gestures with the trotting, basso figurations. Even an English horn interjection amidst such jaunty writing is captured in tone and colour on the piano.
The Pas de Deux, or a featured duet between two dancers, begins with measured nobility offered by the strings and the harp, here treated beautifully for piano by Pletnev. With the entrance of one of Tchaikovsky’s most sublime melodies and the growing and expanding figurations of the piano, the texture grows in density, echoing the joining of the winds and strings in the original score. A series of featured thematic solos follow as the score takes on a darker turn, all the while building with restless and impassioned intensity at every turn of phrase. The piano captures the brass punctuation at every peak of the melodic climax, and Tchaikovsky’s score, despite momentary repose, continues to surge and swell with virtuosic, pianistic figurations until the breathless final cadences.
Perhaps the composer’s most well-known waltz, Waltz of the Flowers begins with the iconic chorale that leads into a dazzling harp cadenza, here heard on the piano as arranged by Percy Grainger with virtuosity and vast, creative deviation from Tchaikovsky’s writing. With the dance impulses provided by the left hand, the opening chorale adapts the characteristic waltz rhythm with solo interjections from the right hand. As the call and response between theme and filigree builds and intensifies, Grainger interjects with more soloist writing for the piano, offering the waltz a certain ebb and flow of pacing as well as moods, never shying away from pianistic interpolation not found in Tchaikovsky’s score. Effectively turning this Waltz into a concert show piece, as opposed to a form-to-form arrangement, Grainger eventually returns to the source material, though still not lacking in his individualistic interpretation as he concludes the waltz celebrating the piano and everything the instrument has to offer.
The Finale of Act II begins at once with regal, courtly air, and Tchaikovsky spins the main tune into seemingly-endless iterations after iterations. Episodes present various instrumental groups, highlighting their unique colours and sounds that are aptly captured by Sutherland on the piano via a series of pianistic, flourishing figurations. With the return of the main waltz tune, these sweet, idyllic gestures ultimately culminate in a series of rolling, celebratory gestures, spearheading to the conclusion of this particular chapter of Clara’s magical journey and adventure.
By Jules Lai