SYNOPSIS

The story is set in France, eight years into Igor Stravinsky’s exile, when he is unable to return to Russia. Cut off from his family estates and denied royalties from his works performed at home, he is internationally known yet financially insecure, just surviving while living abroad.

Sighing in despair, Igor is joined by Shum, described as his closest friend, who mocks his inability to earn money through music. A call from the hospital informs Igor that his beloved nanny is dying. He must choose between burial and cremation. Shum insists he can only afford cremation, but Igor pleads with the hospital to wait one more day while he decides.

Within this “day,” years of exile are compressed into symbolic scenes. Igor and Shum recall his early triumphs with the Ballets Russes — The Firebird, Petrushka, and The Rite of Spring. They play chess on an 8×8 board while Igor struggles with the 88 keys of the piano, both metaphors for life’s struggle and order. Shum calls The Rite a disaster, while Igor blames Nijinsky’s choreography. Shum suggests symphonies, but Igor rejects them as relics of the past, unsuited to an era scarred by war. Hoping instead to write something people can play at home, Igor begins composing piano pieces. Each attempt fails — too difficult for amateurs or too unsatisfying. He experiments with asynchronous hands and piano four hands before finally finding hope in arranging Petrushka for piano.

With renewed confidence, he seeks patrons, only to be humiliated when asked to play Glazunov instead of his own work. Returning empty-handed, he hears Shum’s cruel verdict: if the music were truly good, publishers would have accepted it. His despair deepens when a letter from his mother is returned with the news that the Bolsheviks have seized his family’s property and branded him a traitor. Another call from the hospital forces him, in grief, to choose cremation for his nanny.

Broken, Igor allows Shum to persuade him to abandon music. Shum throws Russian books into the trash, Igor adds his scores, and together they prepare to burn them. They drink to forget reality. Yet with the coming of daylight, Igor reconsiders. Though the entire arc seems to unfold in a single day, it is a symbolic compression of years of exile and doubt. In the morning light he resolves to continue composing and asks Shum to remain with him in whatever future lies ahead. Shum agrees, whatever the future may be.


REVIEW

When entering the auditorium, the usher announced that no photos were allowed inside. Once seated, I wished I could take a picture — this was the smallest and most intimate setting I have seen. The stage, just under 8 by 4 yards, held two pianos facing backward on the left and right. A small grand piano sat on the left with its lid down, a metronome resting on top. Speakers were placed at the sides, but with only 185 seats across six rows, amplification hardly seemed necessary. My expectations rose at the sight of two real pianos, and I hoped the grand piano would not turn out to be a mere prop.

The show began with the pianists, Chankyeong Seong on the white keys and Kim Dong-bin on the black keys, breathing life into the opening notes. Their unison and variation reminded me how blessed Korea is with superb pianists. Igor Stravinsky, portrayed by Sung Taejoon, entered from the left murmuring in sighs, while Shum, played by Yeongtaek Seo, descended the stairs and passed right beside me onto the stage. From their conversation, Igor’s past emerged: his triumphs with the Ballets Russes and his refugee years in France.

It was a joy to hear the pianos converse so fluidly, and even more to discover that the two actors sang so well. Both showed control across registers: Igor’s voice softening at times, breaking with emotion, while Shum’s voice was strong, clear, and resonant — commanding not only Igor but also the audience. In such a cozy environment, with two pianos and two capable singers, I could not have asked for more. I was a little disappointed that Yeongtaek Seo’s role did not call for the soaring high notes where his distinctive vibrato shines, but his stable mid-range was impressive. Sung Taejoon also carried the stage with steady tones and beautiful falsettos. Both surprised me by dancing gracefully, even though the choreography was brief.

This musical is the third and final installment in the Ballets Russes trilogy by Chankyeong Seong (composer) and Jungmin Kim (book and lyrics), following Nijinsky and Diaghilev. Their names resurface in Stravinsky through recollections and phone conversations. The piece even revisits the infamous premiere of The Rite of Spring, contrasting Igor’s perspective with Diaghilev’s financial woes. Igor’s struggles in exile form the central theme, but his genius shines through as he composes piano works for two players and even condenses entire ballets into piano reductions. At the same time, the show highlights Igor’s fear that his music would not sell — not only because of war and social upheaval, but also through Shum’s cruel remark that if the music were truly good, publishers would have accepted it.

The musical situates him in his neoclassical period. Even though his music was already considered provocative, Igor longed to root his art in Russia. The show makes clear his love for his homeland and his yearning to return. It also gestures toward a broader history — his ties to Nijinsky, Diaghilev, Rimsky-Korsakov, Glazunov, his nanny, his mother, his country — and hints at the eventual exile that carried him further to the United States.

The ending leaves him resolved to continue, yet with no concrete outcome. Historically, we know his financial prosperity came later, while his artistic peak was already behind him in the Ballets Russes years.

The production was a two-man show — well, two men and two pianos — staged in a small theater, but perfectly suited for a protagonist who was himself a pianist. Near the end, all four performers played the piano together, a moment that must have posed a daunting challenge for actors in audition. From my seat on the left, I watched the “black keys” role at close range, but it made me wish to return for another view from the right side to see the “white keys” as well.

I am always slightly cautious with works based on real people, as distortions can creep in. But this musical stayed close to fact, allowing liberty only in Igor’s emotional expressions, which felt true to his character given the circumstances of war, exile, accusations of treason, and financial struggle. And the invention of Shum — шум, meaning “noise” in Russian — seems deliberate, a symbolic figure rather than a literal friend, giving voice to the inner turbulence of Stravinsky’s exile years.