The Sanguine Fan of Elgar's Falstaff

Film Score Alternative

by Andy Goldsbrough

The music of Edward Elgar (1857-1934) begins where much of the music for Golden Age Hollywood does, with the orchestral pieces of the late romantics: Mahler, Richard Strauss and, before them, Schumann and Wagner. Elgar inherited the dramatic use of melody, the adventurous harmonies and extended orchestrations then elaborated upon and furthered these ideas to create his own, distinct style. Less brazen than Korngold, Elgar's style became almost too distinctive and to many he has been pigeon-holed as the resolutely Edwardian, English composer with all of the pomposity, stiff-upper-lip restraint and imperial baggage that comes with it.

He wrote music for many state occasions or along nationalist themes: the many marches (Empire, Imperial, Coronation etc...) being the most obvious examples. The 1st 'Pomp and Circumstance' March (later arranged with lyrics, "Land of Hope & Glory," by Arthur Benson) is almost certainly Elgar's most famous work and is included annually in the traditional and somewhat embarrassing spectacle that is the Last Night of the Proms. (The "Proms" being the long series of Promenade Concerts currently in mid-season in London.) These short, formal pieces have provided Elgar's detractors with much ammunition over the years but they are good at what they are meant to be and are probably misunderstood by some. They certainly should not be criticized as a result of any misuse and overexposure they have suffered.

But Elgar also wrote many other works, in a full variety of genres and forms, his style seeming more dignified and stately, more original and personally expressive. Warmly appreciative of his friends and surroundings, he often found inspiration there: each 'Enigma Variation' is guided by the personality of its dedicatee and his English countryside music has become quite archetypal. His apparent "English" sound has undoubtedly been a hurdle to his greater appreciation in wider Europe and America. Consider the example of Miklos Rozsa's writing. That composer, when working on his historical epics, would often undertake detailed study of the musical language of the relevant temporal and geographical region. (Either as the result of scholarly curiosity, professionalism or, as Andre Previn once suggested [1], an attempt not to be bored with the project.) His score for IVANHOE is one of my favorites but tends, in my humble experience, to be less popular among US fans. (This argument is equally applicable to Rozsa's writing more generally: it is pointed, angular and European (Hungarian, in fact), much less lush than that of, say, Alfred Newman.)

But let us not forget that music is supposedly a universal language(!), and if it seems reasonable to suggest that Elgar would be most at home, and hence at his best, when tackling an English subject in an English setting, then this is where to listen to him. With "Falstaff -- A Symphonic Study in C minor" (Op. 68, 1913) this certainty appears to be the case and it ranked as one of the composer's favorite projects.

The title character is that found in Shakespeare's plays: "Henry the Fourth, Parts I & II" and "Henry the Fifth." Falstaff is the great comic creation, sporting a great intelligence and wit but he is also a cheat, a liar, a glutton, a dishonorable, boastful coward and much more besides. It is these traits, together with the deeper (failed?) humanity of the character, that Elgar's music attempts to capture in a series of episodes to which the composer himself provided a written analysis [2] with the intention of allowing the audience to follow his thoughts more clearly. As a result the work is comparable with the early symphonic poems of Richard Strauss (Don Juan, Don Quixote, Till Eulenspiegel) and important in the evolution of film scoring. More than anything else it reminds me of a symphonic John Williams but less direct. There is broad, confident and developing use of extensive, likeable thematic material in many arrangements with orchestrations that are sometimes bold, sometimes sprightly, at other times crafty.

The first section concerns Falstaff and his relationship with the king's son, Prince Henry a.k.a. Hal. Elgar introduces his principal theme for Falstaff and then two further motifs for that character. The first theme recurs throughout the work is various guises, here initially presented descending in the bass. It captures Falstaff's intrinsic qualities by being unprincipled and indulgent. The further tunes characterize Falstaff's moods and behavior as he converses with Hal. He is initially jesting and then more persuasive. The Prince responds with a 'courtly and genial' melody. Whatever the discussion is about, Falstaff appears victorious with a triumphant statement of his primary material.

We next find Falstaff, Hal and friends in the Boar's Head Tavern, in which several scenes of the "Henry IV" plays take place. Elgar writes music depicting a number of events that occur in the course of these scenes. In this Tavern Falstaff is king: the women entertain him and everyone listens to and applauds his swaggering and dissembling. As is fitting the music begins raucously with previously presented material for Falstaff mixing with new, not just for him but the Tavern setting and hostess women also. Falstaff boasts that, before coming to the Tavern, he had snatched a purse at Gadshill. The music quietens as Hal and others, who are now plotting to rob Falstaff, amble around outside. Tension builds as strings scurry and muted horns call out before Prince Hal's theme rushes in quickly to grab the monies that Falstaff possesses. Falstaff makes an escape and we end up back at the Tavern again where the women sing to him with grace about their human virtues. Falstaff answers them with a bassoon solo that is at first arrogantly dismissive but then becomes 'more incoherent, vague, and somnolent' as the character falls asleep, snoring loudly.

Following this is a short dream interlude (not found in either of the plays) in which Falstaff recalls his time as a boy when he was page to the Duke of Norfolk and wonders how different his life might have been. As such the music contrasts with that of the preceding section, opening with gentle string trills and continuing in laid-back reverie.

The next movement begins with Falstaff again in witty voice but he is soon interrupted by a martial fanfare that introduces a battle march. But the violence soon subsides into warmer, more lyrical music for the countryside that could be labeled as typically Elgarian. Similar music is heard for a second, dreamy interlude, this time presenting a theme for an orchard. The tempo picks up again as news reaches Falstaff that the King has died. Hal is to be crowned monarch and Falstaff hurriedly rides to London, excited about possible future advancement for himself.

Fast forward to coronation day and Hal, soon to be Henry V, approaches. Clanging trumpets and music of 'stern, military character' precede a majestic, 'glittering' statement of his theme. The music representing Falstaff attempts at cajoling and persuasion returns as he tries to win the favor of the new king. But the over-bearing, over-confident Falstaff of old has no success and his further pleas become more desperate then pitifully resigned. Finally the King rejects him with a 'rudely blasted... furious fanfare.' Falstaff lies a broken man, his memory drifting across the scenes of his life, recalling the corresponding musical fragments. As his mind falters so does the orchard dream music, and, as death begins to come, Falstaff remembers the 'courtly and genial' Prince, as he used to know him, one last time. But the King is given the last word: 'the veiled sound of a military drum; the King's stern theme is curtly thrown across the picture.'

'The Sanguine Fan' (Op. 81, 1917) refers not to one of the many of us cheerfully optimistic enthusiasts of film music but to the manually operated cooling device with a picture design in blood-red by Charles Condor. From that beginning comes a work which demonstrates Elgar's success on a subject further afield since the fan depicts a forest landscape; to the left of which is a scene from Greek mythology with Pan (the source of the word: panic) and the nymph Echo (the source of another word!); and, to the right, several couples from France in the era of Louis XV. A statue of Eros the God of Love stands between them in the center. This prospect was expanded into a scenario (by Ina Lowther) for a ballet for which Elgar wrote approximately 18 and half minutes of dramatic music. The composer manages to skillfully weave together and explore the disparate elements of the storyline, combining excitement with coherency.

The scene is set with a minuet of 18th century character into which a man comes to wait next to the statue of Eros. Two ladies enter and soon a lovers theme has been introduced as the man makes off with one of them. Echo, represented by flute, wakes Pan, the inventor of the syrinx (pan-pipes) for which Elgar substitutes the clarinet. These two instruments are given a significant work out as the piece unfolds. Pan is initially angered but, after Echo dances coquettishly for him, soon falls in love with her and proceeds to sing himself happily to sleep with a cello.

All is not well with the human lovers as the man returns. They have quarreled and he directs a curse at Eros' statue. Echo steals Pan's pipes and reprises her dance in flirtation with the man. Pan stirs from sleep and, in a jealous rage, terrifies the male mortal, who flees to the shrine of Eros, with an orchestral fortissimo. But the God of Love is not happy with him either and strikes the man down with a bolt from his torch. Echo returns to Pan, who eventually forgives her before carrying her off into the forest. The lady mortal re-enters the glade and kneels to mourn beside her expired lover. Pan, in the grand tradition of Greek gods being arrogantly playful, disrespectful and/or downright cruel to mortals, tosses a look back over his shoulder and laughs.

I am only aware of one recording of 'The Sanguine Fan' (a work which remained unpublished during the composer's lifetime - in fact it was performed twice then not heard of again for over 50 years) but fortunately it is recommendable and cheap: English Northern Philharmonia and David Lloyd-Jones (Naxos 8.553879). It also includes the 30+ mins of 'Falstaff' and Elgar's 'Elegy' for strings.

Further to the above, numerous good records exist of 'Falstaff,' for example.

Also good and not too costly is Daniel Barenboim conducting the London Philharmonic (Sony SBK 63020). This disc also includes Elgar's 'Imperial March' and 'Sea Pictures.'

Historically: John Barbirolli's pairing with the 'Enigma Variations' has had many admirers (EMI CDM5 66322-2).

Arguably the best modern digital recording is by Simon Rattle and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra who include not only the 'Enigma Variations ' but cram full the CD with the quite rare 'Funeral March' and incidental music to 'Grania and Diarmid' (EMI CDC5 55001-2).

[1] In 'No Minor Chords.'

[2] Published in 'The Musical Times' 1 Sept. 1913, before 1st performance (1 Oct). Any phrases in quotes originated from this article and were subsequently used in the references given below.

"Edward Elgar -- A Creative Life" (Jerrold Northrop Moore, 1984, Oxford University Press)

"The Dent Master Musicians -- Elgar" (Robert Anderson, 1993, JM Dent - Orion Publishing Group)