Symphony No. 4 (Shostakovich) - Form

Form

The work is in three movements and lasts approximately one hour. The outer movements each last 25 minutes or more, while the middle movement only takes some eight or nine minutes. This very unusual proportional design represents only one of the larger challenges that face any listener who casually attempts to penetrate the surface of the work and perceive its inner workings.

I. Allegretto, poco moderato - Presto - Tempo 1°

If the first movement of a symphony succeeds as a musical statement only by following the rules of traditional sonata form fairly closely, then the Fourth Symphony’s opening movement initially comes across as a colossal failure. Closer examination reveals what has been described as "a hide and seek relationship with sonata form." Even more detailed study shows that Shostakovich is using his favored version of sonata form, wherein the recapitulation presents the material from the exposition in reverse order. The composer’s very effective obscuring of this approach makes understanding the movement’s structure quite difficult compared to most of his other symphonies. The following table lays out some points to consider:

Because of the many elements that conceal, the movement seems to be little more than a free fantasia consisting of almost nothing except development, making the true arrival of the second theme and the development section especially difficult to ascertain. The crazed, high-speed fugato for the strings that appears partway through the development section is probably the most extreme example in the movement of thematic development seemingly unrelated to the main material, even though it actually has its roots in the first theme.

II. Moderato, con moto

This movement is a Mahler-like ländler/intermezzo in rondo form where two contrasting themes appear in alternation, both being imaginatively transformed and recombined upon their variant returns. At times the movement recalls the scherzi from Mahler's Second and Seventh symphonies, even down to details of scoring or melodic shape. The movement ends with the final statement of the first theme accompanied by a remarkable “ticking” passage for castanets, wood block, and snare drum.

III. Largo - Allegro

The answers to most structural questions in the first movement become reasonably evident after sustained investigation, while such questions hardly exist in the second movement. The third movement, although comparable in scope to the first, superficially appears to offer fewer problems to the listener. Yet serious study, far from providing ready answers or even any confirmation of hunches, often serves only to heighten perplexity. Does the movement have four reasonably self-contained sections? Five? Is there some other general architectural plan in place? How self-contained are the sections? Just where do sections begin and end? What differentiates sections? How do sections relate to one another? The questions persist and do not get completely resolved even after one has settled upon a provisional structure—which may well not match another person’s resolution.

The shadow of Mahler looms large behind the entire symphony, nowhere more so than in the opening minutes of the finale. This formidable and occasionally somewhat bitter funeral march ultimately leads into a lengthy series of fast-moving episodes frequently dominated by a feeling of the waltz. These episodes cover a wide range of moods, now light-hearted, now pensive, now ironically silly, now ambiguous—and they often combine more than one of these at a time—but all suggest dance rhythms in one way or another. The last section of the movement, appearing after all sense of the dance has evaporated, recalls aspects of the opening funeral march but reverses it (by beginning loud and ultimately dying away) and gives it an emotional intensity nearly unrivalled in Shostakovich’s output.

The range of expression to be found here represents another confounding element. This has led some to see the final movement operating at a far deeper level than the preceding two, not only in range and complexity of feeling but also in quality of imagination, while others have not been so convinced by the apparent hodgepodge of styles. Hugh Ottaway, for example, called the close "a magnificent non sequitur".