Mozart & Salieri, Ukrainian Style

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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