"...the tranquil eternal meadows spread at their base, whereon flocks graze, and shepherds pipe and dance." –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Almost ninety years ago, pandemonium erupted at the Theatre des Champs-Elyses in Paris. The opening of Stravinsky's symphony/ballet, Le Sacre du printemps (The Rite of Spring), was by some respects, a complete flop. Fellow composers had convinced Stravinsky that he needed to take his idea of a "primitive spring sacrifice" and complement the music with a presentation in dance. The unbelievable account of that evening is recorded here:

According to one eye-witness, the audience – driven berserk by Nijinsky's "perverse" choreography – raged uncontrollably over what it felt a blasphemous effort to destroy music. Nijinsky's future wife witnessed an elegantly attired damsel slap a young man hissing nearby, this effrontery provoking him to exchange cards with her escort. As the ballet concluded with the Sacrificial Dance – tremorous paroxysms seizing the hitherto immobile Chosen Victim - alarm echoed through the gallery: "Un docteur... un dentiste... deux docteurs." Nijinsky, straddling and offstage chair, continuously bellowed out ("like a coxswain," Stravinsky recalled) a barrage of counts to maintain the dancers' metrical synchronization, while the impressario Diaghilev, fearing public panic, ordered electricians to turn the houselights on and off. Jean Cocteau noted that Diaghilev, Stravinsky, and Nijinsky, huddled together in the Bois de Boulogne during the wee later hours, wept at the debacle. (More juicy details here...)

The original intentions for this premiere were to captivate the audience with a ritual dance of Slavonik traditions to gain favor from the God of Spring. Like the dissonant themes, strange rhythms and earthly cycles throughout The Rite of Spring, the piece itself has endured a wild and chaotic ride starting with that explosive premiere in Paris.

The world of classical music sat up and took notice when Stravinsky dared to venture head-on into conflict and turmoil. This was new and fascinating stuff, regardless of what strange interpretive dances may have plagued that opening night. Walt Disney even found the symphony to be a perfect fit in the 1940 release Fantasia, in which Leopold Stokowski led the Philadelphia Orchestra in a colorful story from Earth's beginnings to the rise and fall of dinosaurs.