MOUSSORGSKY

THE MARRIAGE

(one act, cast of four, MTBB)

Your first question no doubt will be, where is the Pocket Philharmonic? For the moment, it’s me. Moussorgsky left his one-act opera The Marriage with just piano accompaniment -- and this is the way it was performed several times by the composer himself, not at the piano, but singing the leading role. Significantly, Moussorgsky never married, and this work may reflect some of his own personal ambiguities on the subject. Though I would guess that the resemblance between the composer and the hero of tonight’s opera stops there.

The title, of course, gives you an idea of what the story is about, but it might be as well to tell you what it is not about -- it’s not a tale of unbridled passion, nor of careless rapture, nor of reckless abandon. The title should perhaps be qualified: “Marriage -- Russian Style.” Far from the usual operatic Romantic lover, the hero is not a prince, nor a dashing adventurer, nor a hand-some tenor. The truth is -- well, he’s a civil servant, employed in a grubby government office, with the sort of mentality that could be produced only by long years of petty routine, of living alone and brooding. And he’s no longer exactly young.

But he’s decided to get married. Or has he? He has gone so far as to put the affair into the hands of a matchmaker, Fiokla, who has located what would seem to be just the right person, the perfect match -- a young lady in her early twenties, beautiful, rich, intelligent, sympathetic, charming, sweet and domestic. But our hero is not altogether sure this is what he wants.

The lights go up on a scene of squalor and disarray -- in short, a bachelor’s living quarters. The most prominent object is a chaise lounge. Almost everything else is located on the floor -- a pipe, a bathrobe, a stack of newspapers, a pair of worn out slippers, and a few dirty dishes.

You may have gathered that the language will not be elevated or poetic. Unlike practically every opera composed up to this time, it is not in verse, but rather the language of ordinary conversation. And Moussorgsky intended for his music to reproduce faithfully the natural inflections and modulations of everyday speech.

The play that it is based upon, by Nicolai Gogol, is in two acts. Moussorgsky set only one. Why did he stop there? The fact is that he was well pleased with the result and had every intention of going further, but life sometimes interferes in unexpected ways. It was just at this time that he came across a new subject that wouldn’t leave him alone. For years afterwards he remained obsessed with it, unable to work on anything else. It was called Boris Goudonov. But Pocket Opera is going to hold off on that one for a while.