The ballet Pulcinella by Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971) from 1919–1920 is a post-war work of an entirely different kind. Unlike many other compositions reacting to the First World War, Pulcinella does not resort to pathos, grieving, or expressive gestures. Stravinsky was reacting to the post-war situation indirectly by moving away from emotional immediacy and consciously returning to the music of the past. The resulting composition is one of the most original musical reactions to the end of the war, and it ushers in a new creative period in Stravinsky’s career, now known as Neoclassicism.
The stimulus for the ballet’s creation came from Sergei Diaghilev, the founder of the Ballets Russes, with whom Stravinsky had already been collaborating before the war. The results of their partnership, which began in 1909, included The Firebird, Petrushka, and The Rite of Spring—works that radically transformed both modern music and ballet. After the war, however, the ballet
company was facing financial and organisational difficulties, and Diaghilev was looking for a new artistic direction, so in 1919 he showed Stravinsky musical sources from the early 18th century that were attributed at the time to Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, and he proposed using them for a ballet based on the character Pulcinella, a traditional figure of the Italian commedia dell’arte. Stravinsky’s initial reaction was cautious; he was hesitant to engage in the mere arranging of old music. It was only after he had studied the material in more detail that he realised he could use the music of the past as the basis for a new compositional process. He retained the melodic outlines, bass lines, and formal models, but he transformed the rhythms, harmonies, and orchestration. Instead of a return to the Baroque, the result is a dialogue with the past, where the old and new continually collide.
The Ballets Russes gave the premiere of Pulcinella on 15 May 1920 at the Paris Opera with Ernest Ansermet conducting, choreography by Léonide Massine, and stage design by Pablo Picasso, whose cubistically stylised costumes and sets made a strong contribution to the work’s overall aesthetics. Stravinsky later characterised this collaboration with his usual detachment: “Picasso accepted the commission to design the décors for the same reason that I agreed to arrange the music—for the fun of it.”
The ballet’s simple, episodic scenario is based on situations typical of the commedia dell’arte—mistaken identity, jealousy, feigned death, and a final reconciliation. Rather than a psychological drama, we have a stylised play with masked characters. Musically, Stravinsky conceived the ballet for singers and instruments, with three vocal soloists (soprano, tenor, and bass) singing Italian texts borrowed from period sources and making conscious reference to musical practice of the 18th century, when the boundaries between ballet, opera, and cantata were often blurred. The transparency of the modest orchestral forces employed here contrasts deliberately with the monumental sound of Stravinsky’s pre-war ballets and of the Rite of Spring in particular. The 21 brief, self-contained numbers create a linked sequence of contrasting dance and vocal scenes. Besides the short concert suite that Stravinsky himself fashioned from the ballet in 1922 and that is often played separately, the complete ballet music is also sometimes performed without staged action, and that version will be heard today.
At the time, the reception of Pulcinella differed vastly from the tempestuous reaction to The Rite of Spring: instead of a scandal, the new ballet provoked intellectual discussion about originality, authorship, and attitudes towards the music of the past. Stravinsky later commented on the importance of Pulcinella with detachment: “Pulcinella was my discovery of the past, the epiphany through which the whole of my late work became possible. It was a backward look, of course—the first of many love affairs in that direction—but it was a look in the mirror, too.” In this sense, Pulcinella is the post-war work par excellence—not an evocation of wartime experiences, but rather a light-hearted, ironic, and yet decisive turn that profoundly shaped the course of 20th-century music.