THE IMPACT OF A MIRACLE
by Marina Kochetova
On November 23, an essay dedicated to the 100th anniversary of Maya Plisetskaya was published on the pages of the online newspaper Nasha Ottawa. As the author of the piece, I shared my impressions and the emotions I experienced from coming into contact with a true Star, beside whom I was fortunate enough to sit in the Tsar’s Box of the Mariinsky Theatre during the ballet The Little Humpbacked Horse, set to the music of her husband, Rodion Shchedrin. On that unforgettable evening, Shchedrin himself (that is how Maya Mikhailovna preferred to call him, not by his first name) was also present in the Tsar’s Box…
On December 16, composer Rodion Shchedrin would have turned 93. However, he passed away four months earlier, at the end of August. This makes it the right moment to share, even if briefly, my fleeting yet unforgettable impressions of him as well.
I was never an ardent admirer of Rodion Konstantinovich’s work. To be honest, I had only heard his ballet music, written specifically for M. Plisetskaya. That extraordinary evening, Shchedrin deliberately remained in the shadow of his brilliant wife. He behaved with great modesty, almost shyly, gazing at her with tenderness and loving eyes, as if they were still in their honeymoon rather than having decades of life together behind them. He even declined to come on stage for the curtain calls so as not to overshadow the Great Ballerina.
As I mentioned in my essay about M. Plisetskaya, my presence in the box was connected to a short visit to the ballet administration of the Mariinsky Theatre, with which I have a special relationship. The next morning after the performance, I went there to attend classes and rehearsals. Suddenly I was told, “You can see classes and rehearsals anytime. Better go to Mariinsky-2 (at that time the theatre’s new building, and my pass allowed me to enter any building freely). In half an hour there will be an interesting event — the official opening of the Shchedrin Hall.” And so I went. Admission was free; no tickets were sold. As they say, it was an intimate gathering of insiders.
At the entrance to the hall, I saw Shchedrin speaking with some guests. To my amazement, he recognized me! He personally greeted me with a handshake and asked whether I had enjoyed the ballet the night before. He had no idea who I was, but he remembered me because we had been sitting next to each other in the box the previous evening. One does not enter the Tsar’s Box by chance, so he likely assumed I had a direct connection to the theatre — an assumption seemingly confirmed by my presence at the opening of the chamber hall bearing his name. To my great surprise, after discussing the ballet, Rodion Konstantinovich asked whether I was attending his opera The Lefthander that evening. I answered honestly that I was taking a late-night train to Tula, to which I received an unexpected reply: “But The Lefthander is from Tula! You absolutely must see and hear this! Come to the same box — I’ll make sure you are admitted!”
When I returned to the ballet administration an hour later, everyone somehow already knew that Shchedrin himself had spoken to me personally. “Well, Marina, you’re something else! Why didn’t you say so earlier? It turns out you know Shchedrin?!” That’s how rumors are born… I explained what had really happened and told them about the invitation to the opera. I was advised not to refuse, but to quietly leave after the first act so as not to miss my train. That is exactly what I did. Shchedrin is not “my” composer, and opera is not my genre. Yet a sense of belonging enveloped me from head to toe. Shchedrin is regarded as a legendary figure — a brilliant 20th-century composer capable of creating an entire universe from just seven notes.
Fate has granted me many exclusive encounters with true Stars of the highest caliber. After each such meeting, I always arrive at the same conclusion: the higher the bird flies, the more modest it behaves; the more delicate its manner of communication, the more benevolent its attitude. Among ordinary mortals, unfortunately, everything is exactly the opposite… Think about that, people.