To Russia with Ease

It was nearing 1 a.m. and the jury was still out. But for the 2,000 witnesses patiently keeping the vigil in Brussels' opulent Palais des Beaux Arts last week, there was never any doubt about the verdict. In the finals of the Queen Elisabeth Piano Competition, the tumultuous reception for Russian Teen-Ager Eugene Moguilevsky, the only performer among the record 70 contestants to receive a standing ovation, was evidence enough.

The judges agreed with the audience and awarded the $3,000 first prize to the tearful Moscow Conservatory student, while Belgium's Queen Elisabeth herself, an 87-year-old wisp of a woman regally draped in white, excitedly waved her approval from the royal box. Just 18, Moguilevsky, whose parents teach piano at the conservatory at Odessa, displayed a dazzling technique deftly tempered with a controlled maturity of approach. He is the youngest pianist to ever win the coveted Queen's crown. "Moguilevsky has everything," raved La Derniere Heure critic Pierre Modaert, "a blessed musical nature . . . great artistic presence." Echoed the Flemish daily De Standaard: "A blessed musical nature."

Quality, Not Quantity. The youngster's triumph, the sixth time in eleven tries that a Russian has earned top honors in the prestigious international competition, was a particularly bitter pill for the older U.S. contingent to digest. With 20 entrants, by far the largest delegation among the 28 countries represented, the Americans had clearly come to conquer. But in the two withering weeks of elimination rounds, quantity gave way to quality, leaving but four American hopefuls to compete in the contest finals along with three of the five rigorously trained Russian entries.

Exiled in an isolated mansion with no liberty privileges, the dozen finalists dug in for one last hellish week of practice, practice, practice. All but the Russians chafed under the regimen. While Anton Kuerti, 28, most promising U.S. contender, kept the other tenants awake into the small hours slaving at the keyboard a minimum of twelve hours a day, the well-prepared Russian trio held their practice sessions to four hours at the most, then blithely played soccer and lounged on the sloping lawns. It was downright disconcerting. "To us Americans, that week was like jail," groaned Michael Ponti, 26. "To them it was a paradise."

Pingpong. Some, like France's Evelyne Flauw, who fled the stage sobbing and gulping tranquilizers, cracked under the pressure. The skittish Americans turned in credibly flashy but often expressionless performances, were faulted for losing control of their pyrotechnical bursts. Results: the disciplined Russians placed first, second and seventh; the Americans fourth, fifth, sixth and eleventh.

Coolest of the lot was Winner Moguilevsky. An hour and a half before he was to walk on stage, he unconcernedly primed himself by heartily polishing off a steak and playing pingpong.

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