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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

Mozart & Salieri, Ukrainian Style

14 September, 1999 - 00:00

There are those whose talent is perfect, self-sufficient,
and whose creations are priceless. Regardless of whether their accomplishment
is accepted by contemporaries, relatives, or friends, these people cannot
exist other than on the creative side because their talent was given them
from heaven, it is stronger than the bearer, never listens to reason, and
never yields to age or health. It refuses to be held in check, and if it
is not given expression its bearer stops living.

The sad fact remains that Anatoly Solovyanenko's life and
death are but more evidence of this.

He seemed to have everything: boundless talent, success,
thirty years on the operatic and concert stage, along with international
acclaim. He was awarded a prestigious prize at home, but it was also at
home that he found himself doomed to oblivion. He was separated from the
theater and practically denied contact with the Ukrainian public. And he
wanted to sing for that public more than anything else. This was when he
was still in his creative prime.

«He was in an excellent vocal shape,» recalls Ivan Ponomarenko,
soloist with the National Opera of Ukraine. «He could have done so much
more interesting and creative things for our theater. But they are not
used to caring for talent in this country.»

Anatoly Mokrenko, manager and creative director of the
National Opera, is more laconic: «He made an excellent career at our theater.
He sang all the best parts in the repertoire. Solovyanenko was oblivious
to his age. Pensions are not paid without reason, but he continued to sing,
went on many concert tours, and finally his health finally gave way.»

His son, Anatoly Solovyanenko, Jr., is very frank, youthfully
and emotionally straightforward: «The doctors said he died of a heart attack.
Postmortem showed seven cicatrices, meaning he had sustained seven microinfarctions
without being hospitalized. Yet he never complained. He exercised, jogged
and liked to quote his vocal teacher Oleksandr Korobeichenko: ‘A singer
has to be healthy as a horse.' As for his vocal shape, he received concert
offers from the world's leading companies. Shortly before his death my
father returned from a tour of the United States and Canada where he had
twelve solo concerts. Spectacular publicity abroad never diminished the
bitter realization of his being unwanted at home. Father dedicated the
best thirty years of his life to Kyiv's Opera Theater. Yes, he tendered
his resignation, but his hand was forced. After the director general's
post went to Anatoly Mokrenko, the National Opera seemed to lose all interest
in national names. Actually, they got rid of Hisela Tsypola according to
the same scenario. In fact, the management did everything possible to make
my father throw in the towel. No posters with his name were printed. He
could be preparing an operatic part and then learn that someone else would
be singing it. He would come for the performance only to be informed about
his last minute replacement.

«He was paid a presidential stipend the last six months,
and before that he was an ordinary pensioner with a monthly allowance of
49 hryvnias 50 kopiykas. But what depressed him most was his being creatively
unclaimed in his own land. This and many other events added those cicatrices
to his heart.

«I think the last straw was the reprisal staged against
me during the entrance exams at the Musical Academy. It was a blow aimed
at me but hit my father. He did not make any calls, pulling strings before
the exams, because he thought I was fully prepared to take that crucial
step, because getting enrolled in the academy meant quitting the university.
He was very perplexed by my failure and you know the outcome. He had always
dreamed of someone in the family following in his footsteps. Andriy went
into business. He lives and works in Canada, so I was father's only hope.»

Should one carry out an investigation to discover those
who are really to blame for the great singer's untimely death? Are there
guilty parties? Even if one did and if there are, this would be only part
of the truth. In a society where an individual is habitually neglected,
with such neglect being encouraged on high, there is always a Salieri for
every Mozart.

Such tragedies will recur, so long as cultural policy is
based on the yes-man principle, geared not to supply cultural needs but
to oblige those in power. And the latter have no need of spectacular, self-sufficient
personalities. All they need is the right kind of entourage capable of
building their virtuous image. They have no need for idols embodying the
spirit of the nation. Thus, such personalities need not be fostered, encouraged,
or helped in other ways. The authorities prefer idols created from their
midst.

Perhaps if Anatoly Solovyanenko made phone calls, visited
bureaucratic offices, bowed and scraped, the past five years would have
taken a different course for him. He never did because he hated backdoor
diplomacy.

A year ago, television made people remember him. He was
back with concerts, much to audiences' delight (two concerts a year, better
than no concerts at all). But he still felt that suffocating atmosphere
of indifference. True, he was assigned a privileged stipend (after all,
he had international acclaim). So looking for whomever is to blame for
his untimely passing would make little sense, if any.

HE WAS REALLY HAPPY ONLY ON STAGE

The following is Anatoly Solovyanenko's last interview
with our paper on July 28 (24 hours before his death). It is a truthful
story about him. And in many ways about us.

The Day : Mr. Solovyanenko, you are a frequent
visitor at the Russian and Italian embassies. Why do you appear on the
Ukrainian stage so seldom?

A. S. : I am an actor and I am ready to perform
wherever people appreciate my craft. Unfortunately, Ukraine has not shown
any motherly love to me over the past several years. I have never tried
to pull strings or ask favors. I work under one- time contracts. A friend
in need is a friend indeed. The National Opera appears not to need me,
but they still remember me in Russia and Italy. I was even offered permanent
jobs there. But my heart belongs to Ukraine, and I cannot bring myself
to leave my native land. Twice a year I appear in solo concerts in Kyiv.
Not much, but renting audiences costs too much. I am planning to fly to
Italy several weeks from now for a series of concerts. In September I will
be performing at the Metropolitan Opera. Most importantly, I am planning
a concert tour of Ukraine, called Golden Voices of the Slavic Peoples.
If the project comes off as planned, this tour will be organized jointly
with the Ivan Kozlovsky Charitable Fund, which I head, and we will stage
a series of concerts in different countries.

The Day : What about your idea about a
series of television or radio programs dealing with classical music? Will
it happen?

A. S. : Not in the immediate future anyway. I have
recorded one program, «Reminiscences on Music,» with UT-1 where I try to
share certain ideas uppermost on my mind. Spirituality is what will save
this world. One must not forget one's roots and folk songs. Listening to
classical music purifies the soul. Regrettably, there are practically no
telecasts of operatic performances. A whole generation has grown up without
ever having gone to the theater. A huge stratum of world musical culture
remains unexplored. Any boy in an Italian street will sing an aria from
Aida
or
Tosca
for
you. And here? At best you will hear a primitive tune from the hit parade.

The Day : Next year marks the centennial
of Ivan Kozlovsky's birth. Is the Premier Fund making any arrangements
for the occasion?

A. S.: The house where the singer was born has been
restored jointly with the local authorities. A photo album is practically
ready, containing unique photos of Ivan Kozlovsky. I hope to organize an
international Ivan Kozlovsky vocal contest.

The Day : Where are you planning to vacation
this summer?

A. S. : I have been vacationing for the past five
years. Retired, you know. And I want to work! I can wait for a concert
invitation for months on end, mostly from the former Soviet and Western
states, and very seldom from Ukrainian agents. This makes me very sad.
Is it true that my Ukrainian audiences no longer need me? I have released
three CDs with Ukrainian, Russian, and Italian folk songs, paying all the
expenses, but you aren't likely to spot them on the street music stands.
This isn't the selling kind of commodity. I think that there is a serious
decline in the Ukrainian arts. Hit parades predominate on television, radio,
and in the press. I can't listen to or watch all this tastelessness! Sorry
for griping, but it's painful.

I must hurry while I am still in good vocal shape. One's
voice is a very fragile instrument, and singing is an inseparable component
of one's life. I am really happy only onstage.

№34 September 14 1999 «The
Day»


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