Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev is a wonderful activity that I share with my daughter.
Once a week, before his bath time, we put him in ballet mode.
Sitting very still in her chair, she waits for the sound to come with a smile.
It's the anticipation and the joy.
An activity that stimulates their imagination and motor skills.
It allows us to be united, in silent complicity.
A story told by a symphony orchestra.
Peter and the Wolf is the perfect piece for discovering the psychological depth and mystical power of music.
It is also a childlike approach to the inexplicable.
Prokofiev's *Peter and the Wolf*: What does it sound like?
“You’re Peter and I’m the cat,” says my daughter.
That means we are sounds, too.
That we are also emotions and destiny.
Because the characters are represented by musical instruments.
So they're always something more.
They're there.
They're moving around on stage.
They interact.
They do things.
At the same time, they are also music.
And there, in its simultaneous existence as sound, its life is something else entirely.
An invisible and sensory existence.
They are happy.
They're afraid.
They have secret dreams.
The characters in *Peter and the Wolf* and their associations with musical instruments
Pedro: strings (violins, violas, cellos, and double basses).
Introduce the main topic.
He is cheerful, fearless, and brave.
He teams up with the cat to catch the wolf.
Gata: clarinet
He shares the main theme with Pedro.
Then a duplication occurs that leads to a difference.
When you switch instruments, its appearance changes.
Cheerfulness becomes elegance.
Fearlessness, mystery.
Courage, ingenuity.
Let's just say the cat is mysterious, clever, and elegant.
Little Bird: flute
The flute has a way of evoking the image of wings.
The little bird comes and goes.
Always.
From Pedro's shoulder to the branch, keeping the cat's claws at bay.
Between playfulness and caution.
Its theme is ethereal, graceful, and light.
Duck: oboe
The duck is scared.
He walks slowly, with his head down.
He's afraid of the cat and, above all, the wolf.
The slowness of its flight makes him suspicious.
He's clumsy and loves the water.
The song is sad, deeply nostalgic.
Grandpa, the bassoonist
He's angry.
Pedro disobeyed him: he left the house.
The theme is both serious and humorous, oscillating between anxiety and comedy.
The wolf in his life is an abstract fear.
In a way he hasn't yet realized, his grandson embodies his family's highest values:
Courage, loyalty, and empathy.
The Wolf, Three Horns
A gloomy, sinister, ominous theme.
The embodiment of terror.
When the worst happens.
And then, too, the possibility of the extraordinary opens up.
Hunters, kettledrums
Fast, agile, loud.
For Grandpa and the little bird, they bring relief.
For the cat and Pedro, strategic support.
They are accompanied by dogs.
His entrance is heralded by a fanfare on the trumpets.
Sergei Prokofiev: His Life Through His Writings Peter and the Wolf
Prokofiev fell into a trance.
He wrote Peter and the Wolf in four days,
It was commissioned by the Moscow Central Theater for Children's Culture.
He was 45 years old.
It was 1936.
He had just returned to Russia after living in France for several years.
Stalin was at the height of his power.
A program designed to introduce children to musical instruments was the kind of “utilitarian” music that the regime loved.
In addition, he needed to improve his image.
His Cantata for the 20th Anniversary of the October Revolution had been rejected by cultural officials, who considered it too experimental.
Prokofiev was immersed in two massive projects:
His opera The Player and his ballet Romeo and Juliet.
Peter and the Wolf was a haven in his life.
She reunited him with his two children.
I asked them what they imagined while I was writing.
Perhaps that is why her version of the story is gentle and delicate.
The tragic ending fades away.
The duck doesn't die.
A sneeze brings the wolf back to life.
Peter and the Wolf: a musical fairy tale for the whole family
When the clarinet plays, my daughter dances.
Look, Dad, I'm the cat.
Embrace agility and elegance.
If the strings ring out, she stands still.
It's your turn, Pedro: dance!
In my own clumsy, heavy-handed way, I do my best to convey a cheerful boldness.
And when Peter and the Wolf ends, it means it’s time for water.
Just like the duck, Dad.
It's gotten dark.
In the bathtub, my daughter's voice takes on a different tone.
He takes a shower while humming the oboe melody.
It distorts the intended meaning:
Turn sorrow into joy.
And she goes to bed with her imagination filled with musical dreams.
Author:
Hugo Roca Joglar (1986) is a Mexican writer who talks about music all the time. The work that earned him the 2021 José Rubén Romero National Fine Arts Prize for Fiction (I Can See the Future: There Is a Murder) is full of sonic explorations, and the chronicle that won him the 2014 National Journalism Prize (What Love Tells Me) brings Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 3 to life in a cantina in Irapuato.
