Embracing youthful stardom, Nazi censorship and Hollywood success, the Austrian’s story was truly remarkable, says Jessica Duchen
If Hollywood’s scriptwriters had dreamed up Korngold’s life story, they would probably have scrapped it as implausible. From childhood genius to the Hollywood golden age to the devastation of the post-war era, and then his belated present-day rehabilitation, it still seems nearly too startling to be true.
The sorry truth is that the Nazis’ ban on music by Jewish composers, Korngold included, eradicated their music from much of Europe, and after a decade-long rupture restoration is difficult indeed. In the past few decades, though, Korngold’s works have returned in force. Recent high-profile instances have included John Wilson’s award-winning CD of the Symphony in F sharp, stunning chamber music recordings from the likes of the Jerusalem and Eusebius quartets, and the Bavarian State Opera’s staging of Die tote Stadt. This summer, Die tote Stadt comes to Longborough Festival Opera – its first UK performance since 2009.
Born on 29 May 1897 in Brno, Moravia, Korngold was the younger son of Julius Korngold, who soon became the most powerful critic in Vienna, working for the influential Neue freie Presse. The chances of a leading critic having for a son the most gifted child prodigy composer since Mendelssohn would seem one in a billion. When Erich was nine, Julius took him to play to Gustav Mahler. ‘A genius,’ was the great man’s assessment. He recommended that Erich should study with composer Alexander von Zemlinsky.
By 13, Erich had written, among other things, several fine piano works – Don Quixote, Märchenbilder and his Piano Sonata No. 1; his Piano Trio, Op.1; and a ballet-pantomime Der Schneemann. After Julius sent samples to the great and good of the music world beyond Vienna, praise poured in from Richard Strauss, Puccini, Humperdinck and more; soon Der Schneemann was performed at the Vienna Hofoper in front of visiting Belgian royalty, with little Erich on stage, taking a bow.
The teenage composer was a good-natured and precociously romantic soul with a quick wit, a sweet tooth and a resounding belief in inspiration. Although his father kept him away from the excessively modern influences (as Julius saw them) of Schoenberg and Berg, Erich embraced with gusto the myriad possibilities of his own personal language.
As a prodigy, he was subject to jibing. Rumours flew about that a musician could only earn the father’s praise by playing the son’s music. Julius, horrified at being thought biased, responded by overcompensating. As Erich grew up, the resulting intrigues re
