The life circumstances of Czechoslovakian composer Bohuslav Martinů made him an exile twice—first by choice, then by force; he ultimately became a wanderer. In 1923 he won a small scholarship to study in Paris and ended up making the French capital his home for seventeen years. Blacklisted by the Nazis, he and his wife were forced to flee in 1940, arriving in New York in 1941 after a series of delays. Never entirely comfortable in the United States, Martinů spent the seven years following World War II in and out of the country, unable to accept a position in 1946 in Czechoslovakia owing to a slow recovery from a bad fall and other personal considerations. With the help of a Guggenheim fellowship he relocated to Paris in 1953, then lived briefly in Nice, later in Italy, and twice more in the U.S., not to mention many shorter sojourns in various places. He finally “settled” in Switzerland, where he died in 1959.

La revue de cuisine (The Kitchen Revue; 1927) was the product of Martinů’s happy, early years in Paris, where he became caught up in the flood of musical activities there—the jazz craze, the irreverent music of Les Six, and the various styles of Stravinsky, whom the Czech composer greatly admired. Commissioned by Božena Nebeskâ, Martinů composed a witty one-act ballet originally entitled Pokušení svatouška hrnce (Temptation of the Saintly Pot) to a naive scenario about kitchen utensils by choreographer Jarmila Kröschlová. The scoring for a sextet of clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, violin, cello, and piano not only approximated the jazz bands of Parisian clubs and cafés, but also reflected the period’s new reduced scoring for theater pieces. At the same time it answered criticisms that his earlier ballets were too densely scored.

The ballet was first performed in Prague in November 1927, but it was the first performance of the suite from the ballet, now titled La revue de cuisine, that brought the composer great recognition. Performed on Alfred Cortot’s concert series on January 31, 1930, the suite was immediately accepted for publication, the publisher Leduc agreed to publish several other of Martinů’s works, and a repeat performance was requested by the elite Parisian Chamber Music Society.

The lighthearted plot of the ballet concerns a Pot and a Lid, whose marriage is threatened by the Twirling Stick’s seduction of the Pot. The Twirling Stick has attempted to interest the Lid in the Dishcloth, who makes eyes at the Lid, but is challenged to a duel by the Broom. The Pot soon begins to long for the Lid, who has rolled into a corner. Miraculously, a big foot brings about the happy ending by kicking the Lid back onto the stage, enabling the Pot and the Lid to make up. The jazz-infused suite of four movements reflects the merry and sometimes satiric elements of the plot without following its twists and turns.

An idiomatic trumpet fanfare opens the Prologue’s jaunty march. Shifting meters throw the introduction slightly off kilter before the main part of the march settles in. The middle movements were inspired by dances popular in Paris in the 1920s: the seductive Tango is replete with traditional mournful touches; the Charleston lets loose merrily after a clever wind-up. Another march, the Final, concludes the suite, bringing back cleverly rearranged themes of previous movements.

Martinů was extremely proud of the score of La revue de cuisine, which he considered on a par with his quite dissimilar First Symphony from the standpoint of technical perfection. The difference in applying that technique, he realized, was subconscious assuredness in the case of Le revue, whereas the technique for the First Symphony resulted from conscious striving.

—©Jane Vial Jaffe