Runtime: Approx. 11 minutes
Most people will immediately recognize The Sorcerer’s Apprentice from Disney’s Fantasia, but may be surprised to learn that the beloved animation comes exceptionally close to Dukas’ original conception of the story. The work is based on German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s “Der Zauberlehrling” (“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”), a popular setting of a long-enduring folk tale. The cautionary tale about a young magic student who creates havoc when he tries to cut corners on his chores by enchanting his broomstick has become well-known in German speaking countries. One particularly keen line—“The spirits that I summoned / I now cannot rid myself of again”—has even earned its place as a popular adage.
Premiered in 1897, (exactly 100 years after the publication of Goethe’s ballad) Dukas’ symphonic poem is a textbook example of “programmatic music,” an approach to composition that was rapidly gaining ground during the Romantic era. In a charge led by Richard Wagner and his contemporaries, proponents of programmatic music sought to move away from traditional symphonic forms in favor of music that carried a narrative arch. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice does just that, depicting each of Goethe’s turns of phrase through deft musical painting.
At the beginning of the piece, the sorcerer’s apprentice is left alone in his master’s workshop with the mundane task of fetching water from the well. Right from the beginning, the water is reflected in a gently cascading downward melody played by the violins. The drudgery of the chore and the boredom of the apprentice is borne out by a slow iteration of what will soon become the main melody, first played by the clarinet, and then echoed by the oboe and flute. Abruptly, a short burst of energy chimes from the woodwinds as the apprentice gets the first spark of his mischievous plan; he will enchant a broom into doing his chores for him—what could go wrong? He takes a quiet moment to think it through (though perhaps not long enough), heard in the contemplative flute melody and restated by the horn. Then, he gets to work, setting in motion magic he doesn’t fully understand. The music builds to a final strike on the timpani, and the spell is cast.
He waits in silence to see if it worked, and finally the broom starts to twitch. After a few moments testing out its newfound mobility, it sets about on its task, marched along by the bassoons. The apprentice is quite pleased with himself, and the orchestra steadily trots along as the broom dutifully completes its work. With the chores finished, the apprentice commands the broom to stop, but it continues on. The orchestra begins to pick up speed as the broom continues pouring more water into the now overflowing basin. Things become more and more desperate as water begins to flood the room. The trumpets sound dissonant chords as he desperately tries various magical commands to neutralize the broom, but nothing works. Not knowing what else to do, he grabs an ax, and with four explosive crashes in the orchestra, he chops the broom in half. Finally, all is quiet.
The apprentice thinks he’s out of the woods, but the disparate pieces of the broom stir to life once more as the bassoons and clarinets restart their diabolical dance. Each shard of the axed appliance has formed into a brand new broom and set about gathering more water. The room continues to flood, now exponentially faster as the music spins out of control. The apprentice is panicking, the workshop is in chaos, and everything is soaking wet. At the height of the madness, the sorcerer bursts through the door. The orchestra erupts into five final enormous crashes as the sorcerer takes command of the situation. When the broom is once again still and the water recedes, the now sheepish apprentice, rendered by a muted, tender orchestration, glances up at his teacher in shame. But the final mischievous chords make us wonder whether he has really learned his lesson.
Disney’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice was originally conceived as a standalone short film and was recorded separately from the rest of the Fantasia soundtrack, which was added later. Famed Philadelphia Orchestra conductor Leopold Stokowski led Hollywood studio musicians in a three-hour recording session that began at midnight (the musicians were more alert late at night, or so claimed Stokowski.) The resulting short film produced the term “Mickey Mousing”—a film technique where music is precisely timed with actions on screen. Disney’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice became so beloved and iconic that it was the only short from the original film to also be included in its successor, Fantasia 2000.