I stumbled through the door, moments before a very heavy rain cloud decided to let go of its cold and wet weight. It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. The light was already dimmed when I arrived at my chair covered in red velvet. The screen started to light up, which wasn't very shocking since we all had made our way to a cinema after all. What was surprising were the sounds which were coming our way. An African inspired rhythm, then a flute with percussion, alternating with a jazz combo, and a few seconds later a full orchestra sound embraced us. All of this might sound quite random, but it wasn't. What they all had in common was their melody: the Boléro by Maurice Ravel.
Somehow the lives of composers always seem to be tragic. Or maybe life is just tragic for everyone in one way or the other but a composer's tragicness is simply more tangible. It often flows directly into their music, music we can still hear today, making it eternal in a way. Pain which never subsides since the music never gives up, never not wants to be heard. In Maurice's case, music which often and all over the world will always be heard.
The film depicts Maurice's life, tracing his journey in the music world. He wants to get recognition as a composer so he competes 5 times in the Prix de Rome competition, yet he never makes it to the second round. The judges simply aren't impressed. His mother never stops believing in him though. She tells him to keep going, to keep pursuing what moves his soul. She passed away in his arms.
We jump forward in time to the moment where Maurice meets the ballet dancer and choreographer Ida Rubinstein, who during a party asks him to compose the music for her ballet. Maurice accepts the offer but struggles immensely to put some notes on a sheet of paper. He is looking for a spark of inspiration. A melody. An opening. A rhythm. Anything. Yet he finds nothing. All the while he has to witness a man not caring for the women he loves dearly. Ida visits Maurice at home, 2 months before the premiere. Maurice has not written anything yet but pretends he has almost finished the piece. He doesn't want her to freak out, but he underestimates Ida, she knows perfectly well what is going on. She says she wants the compositions to last for 20 minutes. Maurice wants 15. Ida tells him that she doesn't negotiate. They settle on 17. Perhaps Ida recognises his struggle as an artist herself. Or she thinks of him as a friend. Pushing him so he feels challenged, but trying at the same time to not make him feel desperate.
Maurice finishes the piece and is relatively happy with it but then things escalate quickly. During the rehearsals Maurice is shocked with Ida's choreography, which is quite.. uhm... eccentric. Or as Maurice calls it, vulgair. They have a fight. Ida screams "IT IS MY BALLET"! Maurice can't argue with this so he takes out his anger on someone else: the conductor. "And you! You call yourself a musician? You can't even keep the same tempo until the end of the piece even though that has been clearly indicated!". Maurice asks his assistent to tell the director of the hall that he doesn't agree with the performance but he decides to attend the premiere after all. The woman he loves has to convince him to stay though, he almost left half way through the performance. That would have been a shame though, because then he would have missed out on the reaction of the audience which is extremely positive. In fact, they adore it. After the performance Maurice apologises to Ida and they become friends again. However, Maurice was overwhelmed by the success of his composition. Everyone seemed to know his melody. People whistle it while passing him by on the streets of Paris which makes him a bit sad. He fears that this piece will be his only legacy, even though there are so many more melodies and compositions he wrote. Compositions he was more proud of. The movie continues by telling the story of Maurice's neurological illness which make him loose his memory and force him to stop composing. He undergoes an experimental surgery, but doesn't survive. There he is, laying in an hospital bed, his eyes closed, with a bandage draped around is head. A tragic ending for a marvellous composer.
The movie ends with the following sentence in bold white letters on a black screen:
The Boléro is performed once every 15 minutes all across the world.
I understand why. It is a powerful work. Almost meditative. To me it feels like it is consistently telling the listener to keep going, to keep moving forward. You can't escape. Slowly but surely you get drawn into the rhythm, until you feel like you are the rhythm. The rhythm has found its way into your being. Just like Maurice found his way into everyday life many decades after his death.
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