The Cambridge Introduction to Marcel Proust - Adam A. Watt [21]
A landmark of the period that I would like to consider in conclusion is the phenomenon that were the Ballets russes [Russian Ballets], brought to tour in Europe under the directorship of Sergei Diaghilev from 1909 to 1929. Proust’s twin loves of music and theatre were satisfied by the lavish productions that showcased dancers such as Vaslav Nijinsky, Ida Rubenstein and Anna Pavlova. Proust greatly admired Wagner’s operas, conceived as Gesamtkunstwerks (total works of art), often taking several days to perform. The Ballets russes offered a quite different spectacle in terms of pace, duration and intensity; they did share, however, the totalizing ambition of Wagner’s operas, albeit on a smaller scale. They brought together the foremost composers of the time, Debussy, Stravinsky, Satie and Ravel, with sumptuous sets and costumes by avant-garde artists and designers, amongst them Léon Bakst, Henri Matisse and Coco Chanel. In 1917 Proust attended a performance of Parade, a new ballet with a scenario written by Jean Cocteau, music by Éric Satie, sets and costumes by Picasso and programme notes by Guillaume Apollinaire. Proust’s passion for music had led him, the previous year, to pay a string quartet to play works by Beethoven, Franck and Fauré for him as he lay in bed, an enraptured audience of one. He now had the apotheosis of high art before him on the stage of the Théâtre du Châtelet: art that challenged conventions, crossed boundaries and evinced the remarkable multiplier effect that collaboration across different media could have in the artistic sphere. This dynamic interplay is transposed into Proust’s novel where the language and techniques of different art forms are used metaphorically as a sort of multiplier that enriches our understanding of the objects of the Narrator’s and others’ attention. Seen through a painter’s eyes the statuary of the Balbec church is read like an illustrated bible; Elstir’s paintings offer the Narrator (and his readers) a model of the functioning and structure of metaphor; the minutest detail of Vermeer’s View of Delft offers the dying Bergotte momentary recognition of how he should have written his novels; and listening to Vinteuil’s bewitching, previously unknown septet alerts the Narrator to the profound sensitivity and vision of the unassuming piano teacher whom he imagines like Michelangelo, having painted the sublime strokes of his ‘musical fresco’ with ‘wild joy’ (C, 287; P, 1794).
When we consider the relation of Proust’s novel