Jeux: poème dansé

It was unfortunate for Jeux, one of the most finely detailed orchestral scores of the 20th century, that it had to compete from the beginning with one of the most sensational. Commissioned by Diaghilev for the Ballets Russes, Jeux was first performed, with choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky, in the inaugural season of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées on 15 May 1913. Only two weeks later the same company gave the first performance in the same theatre of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring – the notoriously riotous reception of which obliterated every other artistic event in the consciousness of the Parisian public.

Given even the most favourable of starts, however, Jeux was not the kind of score that would have become a popular success. Written in little more than three weeks and cast in one continuous movement, this ‘poème dansé’ has no set pieces and follows no recognisable structural pattern. Even the symmetrical return of the prelude in the closing bars would not have happened if Diaghilev had not decided at a late stage that he wanted the ballet to end in the same way as it begins. It is a score abundant in thematic ideas and yet few of even the most melodious of them are given high-profile exposure or development. While one little theme recurs in an endless series of variants and transformations, the motivation is entirely spontaneous, the atmosphere and events of the scenario reflected in miraculously subtle orchestration, daringly liberated harmonies and infinitely supple rhythms.

Although the composer and the choreographer had difficulty in coming to an agreement about the details of the scenario, they eventually settled for the following:

In a park, at twilight, a tennis ball has got lost; a young man and then two girls come looking for it. The artificial light from the lamp-posts, which spread a fantastic radiance around them, puts ideas of childish games into their heads: they play hide and seek, chase each other, quarrel and sulk for no reason; the night is warm, the sky bathed in a gentle light, they kiss. But the charm is broken by another tennis ball thrown by who knows what malicious hand. Surprised and alarmed, the young man and the girls disappear into the depths of the park at night.

Debussy sets the scene in the park at twilight with a slow prelude of what he calls “orchestral colours lit from behind.” The action begins not with the first, quite short Scherzando episode but only after an early recall of the back-lit colours in the opening tempo. As the Scherzando tempo is resumed and a clarinet introduces the nearest thing there is to a main theme – a playful little tune which is immediately adopted and varied by other woodwind instruments – a tennis ball bounces across the stage, followed by the young man. The two girls make their entry with a new, more sustained melody identified by its violin trills and legato phrasing. Their surprise at catching sight of the young man hiding in the bushes is signalled by loud notes on the trumpets and heavy chords on the strings. With gently caressing harmonies on the strings, however, he persuades them to stay, and engages one of them in a dance which ends with a kiss and a passionate motif high on the strings. In spite of some derision from her companion, he dances with her too, a waltz this time – much to the anger of her friend who, however, is persuaded to stay for a final dance for the three of them together.

To judge by the mounting excitement, the occasional violence of the orchestration and the moment of ecstasy that expands the once playful clarinet theme in expressive augmentation, this threesome is what they wanted all the time. But without warning, on a falling glissando on the violins and tumbling arpeggios on woodwind, another stray tennis ball bounces onto the scene. The lovers take flight and all that remains is the back-lit twilight, now a little darker, in which this erotic little adventure began.