Something Wonderful: Sebastian by Gian Carlo Menotti

Gian Carlo Menotti is primarily known as a composer of operas. He’s most famous for his children’s Christmas opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors. But he also composed other music, including the wonderful ballet Sebastian. I’ve never had the opportunity to see it performed; I’m not sure how often ballet companies produce it. But the music itself is beautiful.

Sebastian is most often heard as a seven-movement suite, which is what I’m recommending to you. Honestly, I’m not crazy about the only complete version of the ballet that’s currently available. The problem is largely one of personal preference; I grew up with a slightly different interpretation (probably Leopold Stokowski’s), and it has become cemented in my mind as the “right” version. Also, the suite is nearly as long as the complete ballet, so if you buy the suite, you aren’t missing much. I enjoy the recording by the Spoleto Festival Orchestra under Richard Hickox. I urge you to follow the advice of one Amazon reviewer: Get the music on disc, not as an MP3. The MP3 version leaves breaks between movements that shouldn’t be there.

The 20th-century classical music that I prefer tends to be melodic — think Aaron Copland, not John Cage. Menotti falls squarely into the melodic camp. Sebastian is gorgeous. Its movements range from “Street Fight,” the most contemporary-sounding piece in the collection, to the parade-like “Cortege” and the lyrical “Pavane.”

I became familiar with the plot of the ballet when I was young, but at the time, I didn’t see anything special about the name of the title character and his fate. Briefly, Sebastian is a slave who is in love with a courtesan in an Italian court. She, in turn, loves — and is loved by — the prince. The prince’s sisters do not approve of the courtesan and steal her veil in order to kill her through witchcraft. They plot to cover a wax figure with the veil and pierce it with arrows, thus killing the courtesan. Sebastian substitutes himself for the figure in order to save the courtesan, who lives happily ever after with her beloved prince.

Years later I became familiar with the many gruesome paintings of Saint Sebastian, pierced by arrows. Can there be any doubt that Menottti was making a reference to the saint?

If you only knew Menotti through Amahl and the Night Visitors, or if you didn’t know him at all, it’s time to listen to Sebastian. It’s woefully underappreciated.