Notes from the 2024 Salzburg Festival ( 5 ) Don Giovanni • Currentzis • Castellucci

Opera • Don Giovanni • Currentzis • Utopia Orchestra

Also reviewed for Die Presse: „Don Giovanni“ bei den Salzburger Festspielen: Jubel für weiße Bilderkunst

ALL PICTURES (DETAILS) COURTESY SALZBURG FESTIVAL, © Monika Rittershaus. CLICK FOR THE WHOLE PICTURE.

50 Shades of White: Currentzis’ and Castellucci’s Don Giovanni Triumpans/span>

Robert Castellucci’s Don Giovanniwas first performed at the 2021 Salzburg Festival. For the premiere of the revival, the production has changed only in some small details. It still begins with a professional crew of movers clearing out a church. By the time they get to taking down the renaissance crucifix from the wall, the overture bursts on the scene, courtesy Teodor Currentzis and his Utopia Orchestra, which is in essence his MusicAeterna Orchestra, but the West-European edition, to avoid unnecessary controversy about a Russian orchestra performing in Europe. (More about that, in a bit.)

Whether the pre-overture action means to suggest that art is replacing religion is up for speculation. But they must clean house. Perhaps to get rid of clichés and old-fashioned ideas about Don Giovanni. Or simply to make room for this production. Lots and lots of white room. So white, in fact, and in so many different warm and cool shades, sometimes draped with vast sheets of cloth, and brilliantly lit, one might have mistaken it for a Dieter Dorn production, except with a slew of animals making witty cameos: A goat, a poodle, and a rat!

The Dieter Dorn comparison might not even be so off the mark, because despite the overwhelming, wafting pictures that Castellucci painted unto the stage – set, costumes and lighting all being one homogenous one – his production is essentially a fairly conventional chamber play, which relies on the actor-singers to bring it to life. And that they did!

Homogenous Ensemble

The Singers were a very homogenous, very satisfying ensemble. No reasonable person would have attended this Don Giovanni for any one particularly singer – and yet, the vocal offering was excellent. Nadezhda Pavlova’s Donna Anna, for example, who got the loudest ovations: Strong-voiced and soaring above all, when necessary. Or the much appreciated Federica Lombardi’s Elvira, touching, half-motherly, half-seductive, with a nicely low timbre. Anna El-Khashem’s minx of a Zerlina was a little muted, but the way her voice betrayed experience-beyond-her-years worked nicely with her character, who is rather more worldly than her oaf of a husband-to-be, Masetto (Ruben Drole: smokey, sturdy, blunted – all befitting his character). This becomes deliciously obvious, when she rather enjoys being tied up with a bondage rope by Don Giovanni, whereas her encouraging “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto” is rather lost on the poor chap, who doesn’t, much to Zerlina’s resigned disappointment, get her drift.

The fact that Don Giovanni are just about doppelgängers reminds of Peter Sellars’ 80s production, where he cast the rôles with the Perry twins. Kyle Ketelsen’s Leporello, dark-hued and gruff, and Davide Luciano’s all-in Don G., steady and with a warm timbre, and never, never prone to barking, hit all the marks – and especially Luciano embodied the personified id. Superstars in the Pit None of this would have been as satisfactorily possible, had it not been for the support from the Orchestra. The Utopia Orchestra offered precision, force, and lots of bite – but also oodles of transparency – to a degree that you simply don’t get from an orchestra where, not a minute into their scheduled lunchbreak, the first trombone already raises their hand. From full-out attack to the height of tender reticence, even the smallest phrase was fully thought-out and shaped. Any sense of harmlessness is out of the question, in such a performance and if anyone could possibly niggle, it would be about this approach being a bit too much of a good thing. Except, not really. The fortepiano had inspired, free-wheeling passages, with ‘planned-improvisatory’ contributions that even included a bit of late Beethoven, to underline the seriousness of Act 2. The consequence was great enthusiasm for the music and near instant, unanimous standing ovations for Teodor Currentzis and his musicians.

If one only followed the “Currentzis Question” through social media, one might get the idea that he’s controversial. And yes, there are enough bigots out there – well, one, specifically – who make a point out of trolling Russian artists (not that Currentzis is Russian – but he works there) that don’t kowtow to their demands for explicit renunciation of all things Putin… and all consequences for their careers (and the livelihood of the musicians that rely on them) be damned… and some cowards who will immediately try to distance themselves from presumed controversy or Twitter-pressure.

In Salzburg, the audience couldn’t possibly care less about this one-man witch-hunt against Currentzis (who has, in any case, shown his true colors by immediately programming Ukrainian works in the aftermath of the Russian invasion, and the Britten War Requiem). What they want is great music-making. And that they get in spades from the weirdo-conductor and his supremely willing band of musical Nibelungs.

Dramma giocoso

For all the grandness of the production’s sets, populated with 150 choreographed women of all ages, shapes, and types – a none-too-subtle but perfectly effective manifestation of Don’s “catalogue” – Castellucci does not leave the “giocoso” part of Don Giovanni unattended to. (Unlike Glaus Guth, whose perfect Giovanni was all bleak and dark.) Of course, playing up the comedic element of the story rarely works well; least of all when the Don is played as a sort of oversexed Falstaff. This is something that Castellucci fastidiously avoids. The laughs come from other corners. Like Masetto’s hiding place, from which a (live!) rat scurries across stage, as he is discovered. His shriek might have been real, too. Chuckles also ripple through the Festspielhaus, when Donna Elvira’s two little kids are chasing Daddy Giovanni, who is distinctly put off by these two unintended consequences clinging to his legs.

But the comedic coup de théâtre is the treatment of that big fat zero of the opera, Don Ottavio, that ineffectual bloviator, who sings much and does absolutely nothing, except stand on the sidelines making helpful comments like an acquaintance telling you that you’re putting the Ikea closet together all wrong. Every time Castellucci and his Theresa Wilson, his costume-assistant, send Ottavio – who starts out looking like a posh hobby dictator in his silky mess uniform – out on stage, they stuff him into a yet-still-more ridiculous costume: A Pierrot with a coiffed (real) poodle. The King of Jerusalem. As a nun. And the more earnestly Ottavio sings, the more pathetic – and hilarious – it becomes. Julian Prégardien does this with total commitment, great lyrical stretches, and just a brief, intermittent stretch where the intonation softened. Once scene, with him and Donna Anna, features two artist’s mannequins who, as graphically as is within their abstract ability, act out what really happened between her and Giovanni, earlier that night, before the overture. A wink, a nod, and a reminder, as if it was needed, that a point of view, one’s reality, and the truth are not necessarily the same thing. A move, reminiscent of what Kasper Holten’s does in during the overture of his film version of the opera, Juan.

There is probably no production that will be liked by everyone. And a small group in the audience, evidently less impressed by things falling and crashing onto the stage at irregular intervals (still basketballs and a grand piano; the car and the carriage now only dangle and don’t fall, in this updated production), hollered “Boos” at the production team. But those were immediately drowned by contra “Bravos” from an audience that wouldn’t have its good time spoiled.

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Photo descriptions:


Above
Picture No.1: Don Giovanni 2024: Extras of the Salzburg Festival (Pre-Overture)

Picture No.2: Don Giovanni 2024: Anna El-Khashem (Zerlina), Davide Luciano (Don Giovanni)

Picture No.3: Don Giovanni 2024: Julian Prégardien (Don Ottavio), Nadezhda Pavlova (Donna Anna)




Below
Picture No.4: Don Giovanni 2024: Ensemble

Picture No.5: Don Giovanni 2024: Davide Luciano (Don Giovanni), Federica Lombardi (Donna Elvira), Ensemble

Picture No.6: Don Giovanni 2024: Davide Luciano (Don Giovanni)

Picture No.7: Don Giovanni 2024: Davide Luciano (Don Giovanni)

Picture No.8: Don Giovanni 2024: Nadezhda Pavlova (Donna Anna), Ensemble

Notes from the 2024 Salzburg Festival ( 4 ) Ouverture Spirituelle • Lobgesang • Vienna Philharmonic

Lobgesang • Mendelssohn • Vienna Philharmonic • Blomstedt

Also reviewed for Die Presse: In Salzburg feiert Herbert Blomstedt Geburtstag

ALL PICTURES (DETAILS) COURTESY SALZBURG FESTIVAL, © Marco Borrelli. CLICK FOR THE WHOLE PICTURE.

A Hymn of Praise to Old Age

On July 11th, Herbert Blomstedt turned 97 – ninety-seven (!) – years old. And when you turn 97, you get to celebrate your birthday twice, no problem! First with a Bruckner Ninth and the Bamberg Orchestra (see also “ The Subtle Miracle Herbert Blomstedt And Bamberg's Cathedral Tour Of Bruckner”) and a good fortnight later with Mendelssohn’s Second Symphony – the “Hymn of Praise” – and the Vienna Philharmonic at the Salzburg Festival.

Of course, age takes its toll, at this advanced hour of one’s life – and the stiffly moving but self-propelled Blomsted looks a bit like a marionette. His physical conducting is reduced in expressiveness and breadth of motion. But the key to an inspired performance is not forcing one’s will onto 190 musicians (counting the 111 singers of the Vienna Singverein), but to make them want to dance attendance on his every musical wish. And this, Blomstedt manages with ease, thanks to his charisma, earnestness, reputation, quiet enthusiasm, and devout charm, and that’s why his concerts are still such musically miraculous moments.

The Compleat Mendelssohn

Brahms’ Schicksalslied (Song of Destiny), op.54, with the disciplined, restrained choir, was a masterclass in matters gentility, sensitively performed by the Philharmonic for Blomstedt. This was the overture to Mendelssohn’s Second Symphony, long considered something of a problem child among Mendelssohn’s symphonies, with three short instrumental movements that are then – supposedly – squashed by the vast Cantata that follows. It’s an unfortunate, perhaps finally waning reputation, given that the work contains everything that makes Mendelssohn. The earnest, imposing music of the oratorios. Some of the fairy-dust music he is best known for. And even some of the tragedy and dissonance we can find in the F minor String Quartet.

The quick pace of the opening was invigorating for not trying to artificially impose more weight on the movement in search of some elusive balance but simply content in praising God – a concrete matter for Blomstedt and not just some abstract concept. The calm pianissimos that Blomstedt got from the orchestra (“Nun danket alle Gott”) were particularly touching.

The quick pace of the opening was invigorating for not trying to artificially impose more weight on the movement in search of some elusive balance but simply content in praising God – a concrete matter for Blomstedt and not just some abstract concept. The calm pianissimos that Blomstedt got from the orchestra (“Nun danket alle Gott”) were particularly touching.

F. Mendelssohn-B The Symphonies C.v.Dohnányi, Vienna Philharmonic Decca, 2010

Save Thyself!

Not everything went as smoothly. Towards the end, the performance lacked the crucial impulse, that would have imbued this “Hymn of Praise” with the needed pulse. Nor were the ‘almost-dissonant’, which can add a welcome bitter-sweet fragrance, particularly tended to. When the chorus nearly threw a fugato passage (“Die Nacht ist vergangen”), there was no help to be gotten from Blomstedt. The Singverein managed to rescue itself splendidly.

The soloists were right in line with the high quality and character of the performance – namely the level-headed, narrative, perfectly singing of tenor Tilman Lichidi (despite a weaker, flat moment later in the duet) and the effective, nicely enunciating Christina Landshamer, with a tastefully increasing but never overly dramatic vibrato on the held notes – and contributed to this wholly untroubled, Lord-praising eleven-AM performance. Grateful ovations when Blomstedt was led off and back on the stage, by concertmaster Rainer Honeck.

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Photo descriptions:

Picture No.1: Wiener Philharmoniker · Blomstedt 2024: Herbert Blomstedt (Dirigent), Wiener Philharmoniker

Picture No.2: Wiener Philharmoniker · Blomstedt 2024: Elsa Benoit (Sopran II), Christina Landshamer (Sopran I), Herbert Blomstedt (Dirigent), Tilman Lichdi (Tenor), Wiener Philharmoniker, Wiener Singverein

Notes from the 2024 Salzburg Festival ( 2 ) Ouverture Spirituelle • Te Deum & Mozart Matinee

Te Deum — La Capella Reial • Le Concert des Nations • Savall

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Strahlende Trauermusik mit Jordi Savall und Adám Fischer

ALL PICTURES (DETAILS) COURTESY SALZBURG FESTIVAL, © Marco Borrelli. CLICK FOR THE WHOLE PICTURE.

Evening and Mourning: De Profundis for Wolfgang Rihm

No one knew Friday evening, when Jordi Savall performed Michel-Richard Delalande’s (and Arvo Pärt’s) De Profundis. And When Adám Fischer conducted Mozart’s Masonic Funeral Music at the Saturday Mozart Matinee, news had just reached Salzburg that Wolfgang Rihm had died that night. In retrospect, those two concerts took on the character of a musical leave-taking from arguably the most respected living German composer and a dear human being.

Charpentier Te Deum Ensemble Les Surprises Alpha, 2024

The sun was just laying last bands of warm yellows across the battlements, church towers, and roofs of Salzburg when the sounds of early French baroque filled the Collegiate Church, courtesy of Le Concert des Nations and Jordi Savall, who made his way to stage with a crutch and his face that looks like an apostle carved from wood. The center of this Tootsie Pop, between Delalande and the timeless minimalism of Pärt, was Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s grand Te Deum, which Europeans of a certain age invariably associate with childhood moments in front of the TV, maybe for the Four Hills ski jumping tournament or the Eurovision Song Contest, seeing that the opening prelude is the signal of the “Eurovision” pan-European broadcasts. Only that that version is rather more stately than the tempestuous trumpets and snappy timpani were, that Savall & Co. hurled at the enthused audience – eliciting early Bravos after the “In te, Domine, speravi” faded away into the generous acoustic of the ideally suited (and carefully prepared) church space.

Throughout the evening, the young La Capella Reial de Catalunya choir radiated with musical joy, like a big family in a choral outing. The soloists from its own ranks pleased with fresh and clear interpretations – above all the positively glowing (it may partly have been the advanced state of pregnancy) soprano of Elionor Martínez. Mezzo Kristin Mulders added her incisive, blazing instrument into the mix, although the tight, pronounced vibrato did not quite gel with the other, purer voices.

The short encore, Pärt’s Da pacem Domine (written for Savall and inspired by the 2004 Madrid train bombings), opened like a Gregorian chorale before the typical Pärt-isms chimed in: The chords that drift apart, the shifting long vocal lines, the regular time signature of the timpani, all resting on a subtle, almost unnoticeable bed of gently buzzing strings.

Funereal and Rocking Mozart from A.Fischer

W.A.Mozart 45 Symphonies Danish National CO Dacapo, 2013

Mozart’s Masonic Funeral Music, which Adám Fischer and the Mozarteum Orchestra performed, is not his best work – but it’s one of the more distinct ones in his output. The earthy, dark, woodwind-centered piece made for a most memorable curtain raiser, followed by a far less memorable D-minor Piano Concerto (K.466) in which the young Lukas Sternath, who won just about every prize at the 2022 ARD Music Competition, played flawless and lovely enough (“achingly sincere” is Tim Page’s suggestion for a put-down on such an occasion), but never achieved lift-off.

As if to prove that neither orchestra nor the conductor were to blame, Fischer and the Salzburgers went for a zany “Linz” Symphony that sparkled and crackled from start to end. With a smile across its collective face, the Mozarteum Orchestra delivered drive instead of legato, short but never choppy phrasing, and their joy transferred unto the audience’s – reminding us, why it is Adám Fischer, who currently has the best Mozart Symphony Cycle to his name.

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Photo descriptions:

Picture No.1: Te Deum – La Capella Reial · Le Concert des Nations · Savall 2024: Jordi Savall (Dirigent), Le Concert des Nations, Solisten

Picture No.2: Mozart-Matinee · A. Fischer 2024: Adam Fischer (Dirigent), Mozarteumorchester Salzburg

Notes from the 2024 Salzburg Festival ( 3 ) Time with Schoenberg • The City Without Jews

The City Without Jews • PHACE • Olga Neuwirth

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Olga Neuwirths Musik hat zu „Die Stadt ohne Juden“ nichts zu sagen

ALL PICTURES (DETAILS) COURTESY SALZBURG FESTIVAL, © Marco Borrelli. CLICK FOR THE WHOLE PICTURE.

The Good Austrian

The City Without Jews, a 1924 Austrian Expressionist film by Hans Karl Breslauer based on the novel of the same title by Hugo Bettauer, was first shown 100 years ago. For many years it was deemed lost, but after an intact copy was unexpectedly found some years ago, the Austrian Film Institute has stitched the film back together and made digital copies of it. While it’s good to have this rare film available and while it feels good (for Austrians, particularly, one reckons) to know that there were “good people” out there, who stood up against antisemitism, the quality of the film and the print – and its copies – is variable and dodgy.

Fourteen Ways to Describe the Rain

Hugo Bettauer , The City without Jews

The Salzburg Festival screened the film as part of their “Time with Schoenberg” series – although there was little (none, in fact) Schoenberg involved in this project. The new soundtrack was composed by Olga Neuwirth and a little prelude came courtesy of Hanns Eisler. Very apropos for Salzburg, that work was the Fourteen Ways to Describe the Rain. Well, as far as Salzburg is concerned, there are the impotent fat drops, that lazily plop from above, announcing an impending storm. There are middle-sized ones, that offer half trepidation, half hope, with a thunderstorm already or still being stuck behind one of the surrounding mountains. And then there are mean little needles of drops, that shoots down your neck from behind – themselves a prelude to the specific drizzle the locals call “ Schnürlregen”, a straight, light put consistent pour that has a dispiriting, it-will-never-end quality about it.

A Dearth of Ideas

Led by Nacho de Paz, the PHACE Ensemble performed the Eissler excellently (especially violist Petra Ackermann gave her best to make music out of Eisler’s quickly tiresome note salad) and the film music properly, along to their click-track. But the music was not particularly rewarding. Neuwirth's apparent dearth of ideas for the music to this film was baffling. At least half of it was smeared with a monotonously ominous, reverberant droning sound – quite regardless to what the film shows: Love scene: Droning. Singing in the synagogue: Droning. The only notable deviations are the interlacing of Austrian clichés (jodling, zither-music, and voice fragments of Hans Moser, a famous Austrian actor who had one of his first starring rôles in this film and whose apt physical comedy is already on display) into the soundtrack – and one telephone, that actually rings. The film’s banal depiction of the reasons for the economic and financial crisis in Austria is close to being an antisemitic trope itself; the actual antisemitism that the film ridicules is so over-the-top, it’s a bit too easy to be against it. And the “good Jew” of the film, Johannes Riemann might be a sympathetic proto-Mr. Bean, but nine years later, he became Nazi Party member No. 2641955. Well, we can’t be on the right side of history, I suppose.

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Photo descriptions:

Picture No.1: Zeit mit SCHÖNBERG – Die Stadt ohne Juden 2024: PHACE

Picture No.2: Zeit mit SCHÖNBERG – Die Stadt ohne Juden 2024: Nacho de Paz (Dirigent), PHACE

Notes from the 2024 Salzburg Festival ( 1 ) Overture Spirituelle • Koma & Le noir de l'étoile

Koma • Georg Friedrich Haas • Klangforum Wien

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Haas und Grisey: Hier spielen kollabierte Sterne die Musik

ABOVE PICTURES (DETAILS) COURTESY SALZBURG FESTIVAL, © Marco Borrelli. CLICK FOR THE WHOLE PICTURE.

Blackout

As my colleague was stuck somewhere in northern Franconia, trying to experience opera in the dark, with only the German Railway between him and Bayreuth, I had made my way to the Salzburg Festival – back after ten years – to experience opera in the-even-darker. Because what Wagner achieved with Tristan 140 years ago, Georg Friedrich Haas has managed now with Koma, his opera that premiered 2016 in Schwetzingen. And pitch-black it really was, in the Great Hall of the Mozarteum, because the bureaucracy played ball and, in exchange for personal at every door, allowed the Festival to tape over the emergency exit signs. You could see the faintest outlines of light ions creeping through the cracks around some of the doors, but not your own hand before your face. You could turn to your seat neighbor and poke your tongue out and no one would have been the wiser for it. Barring a bad case of halitosis, that is, because with the visual sense gone, all other senses were heightened. That said, you wouldn’t need Haas’ music to attain that effect – I reckon that a Mozart Requiem, Gesualdo Madrigals, or something by Philip Glass might work as well and better.

There was a sensual element to the music as it rose, gently at first: metallic clouds, pierced by piano and brass, a whaling accordion. The music sounded positively amplified, but nothing was – it all came from the way the timbres were mixed and the voices resonated in the fine acoustic. The brass would occasionally throw fanfares against the string clusters, that sounded like elephants in heat. The piano – and its out of tune upright companion – were prominent… and responsible for much of the beauty of the score, because Haas, while modern and complex enough to be on the good side of the journalist, musicologist, and academic coteries, is also non-ideological enough to step off the avant-garde pedal every so often, letting glimmers of humanity and consonance shimmer through.

He was much helped by the excellent performance of the Klangforum Wien which was led – during the brief lit and semi-lit moments, anyway, by Bas Wiegers. Not that you can strictly tell, but they sounded on point, sharp, and certainly good, as they played their way through the score – and most of it by heart. The same goes for the singers, who all somehow sounded uncommonly good, notably trading words between each other, even for simple, single sentences. Only Daniel Gloger couldn’t go for all-beauty, because his role as “Mother” (apart from “Alexander”) demanded a more grotesque take. Outstanding amid the general excellence were Pia Davila’s Jasmine (sister of the comatose protagonist, Michaela) and Peter Schöne’s Michael (husband of Michaela).

As for the story by Klaus Händl, Haas’ go-to librettist, there’s a Michaela and she’s in a coma. Given the constant darkness, you had better read the libretto before or after, because there was little to follow during the performance. She’s taken care of, it seems, every once in a while, she or her memory wails away from above in the back (Sarah Aristidou), hospital procedures are described, and there is a good deal of good old German Vergangenheitsbewältigung. Her mother is revealed to have been a Kostelnička-type (except cartoonish wicked, unlike the tortured and deeply moral original) – which gave intermittent cause if you can actually come to terms with your past, if you just make it out to have been evil, rather than trying to understand the “others’” point of view. But that might be perhaps asking for more than the libretto was ever willing to give, getting stuck on a reasonably harmless and superficial level.

By the time the creaking trombones announce the end of the opera, which drags itself from line to line to its end, it has overstayed its welcome by maybe half an hour. The lights-off-lights-on back and forth, which even if following a libretto had been possible, did not make obvious dramatic sense, was no longer as novel at this point, nor was the music. Still: the experience as such was one that is bound to stay with every attendee.

Le noir de l’étoile • Gérard Grisey • Motus Percussion

Messages from the Past

G.Grisey, Le noir de l’étoile Percussions de Strasbourg Harmonia Mundi

Having awoken from the coma, the schedule beckoned to the Collegiate Church for a 10PM performance of Gérard Grisey’s 1990 Le noir de l’étoile for six percussionists, tape, and electronics. Darkness reigned again, but since the emergency exit signs were not covered, this time, the white interior of the Kollegienkirche shone in eerie mint green. The six percussion sets, distributed equally around the church, were spotlit. The audience, facing the center, sat in the middle of all this.

Essentially, Le noir de l’étoile is an hour of drumming. If six drummers banging on for about an hour sounds eerily much like the final part of Rihm’s Tutuguri—Poème dansé (review of the 2010 Salzburg performance here), worry not. There are limits as to how far that sort of thing can go, granted. And the presumed idea of a pulse traveling around the listener, from one percussion station to another – a b it à la Gesang der Jünglinge, I imagine – didn’t quite work out, either, perhaps because the principally gorgeous acoustic of the church made matters a bit too diffuse for that. But there was a communal quality to the proceedings, listening to the acoustic soundprints of pulsars PSR B0329+54 and Velar flutter in through the speakers, as interludes. Cosmic signals from thousands of years ago; messages from collapsed stars, on which we can eavesdrop on earth and which can lead to our contemplation of human existence, the futility of our micro-second in this universe, unnoticed and utterly irrelevant, except to us.

These kinds of existential thoughts, fortunately, can be wiped away easy enough, with a sausage and a beer, courtesy “Heiße Kiste”, the much appreciated mobile late-night sausage stand on the other and of the “State Bridge” that will assist putting the humans at the proper center of their universe again.


Photo descriptions:

Picture No.1: Koma — Klangforum Wien · Wiegers 2024: Peter Schöne (Michael), Daniel Gloger (Alexander/Mutter), Pia Davila (Jasmin), Bas Wiegers (Musikalische Leitung), Susanne Gritschneder (Dr. Auer), Henriette Gödde (Dr. Schönbühl), Karl Huml (Pfleger Jonas), Benjamin Chamandy (Pfleger Nikos), Raphael Sigling (Pfleger Zdravko), Klangforum Wien

Picture No.2: Le Noir de l’Étoile — Sietzen & Motus Percussion 2024: Christoph Sietzen (Schlagwerk), Motus Percussion

NSO goes to the movies at Wolf Trap

More and more orchestras have added live music accompanying film screenings to the lighter side of their repertory in the last fifteen years. The National Symphony Orchestra gives a much-needed estival twist to this trend by hosting such performances during their summer residency at Wolf Trap. On Wednesday night, another capacity crowd filled the Filene Center and its lawn for the latest in the series, a screening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1, in spite of the humidity and occasional spritz of rain.

Such performances do not generally merit comment at Washington Classical Review, but the Ionarts children have always enjoyed attending them - other parents looking for an easy way to introduce young people to the sounds of a live orchestra may find likewise. Miss Ionarts, now in her college years, delighted in seeing a number of children attending in Harry Potter costumes. Released in 2010, this installment of the Harry Potter film series was a bit too frightening for Miss Ionarts back then, and there were still a couple jump scares that had their intended effect even now.

Alexandre Desplat composed the score, making use of themes first created for the series by John Williams. With Desplat's more pedestrian music, it is not exactly a score-driven cinematic experience like the Lord of the Rings or Star Wars films. Guest conductor Constantine Kitsopoulos, aided by the metronomic click track projected on the podium, lined things up just fine with the orchestra, but there were few genuine musical frissons to be experienced. Principal cellist David Hardy stood out for his eloquent solos in the closing act of the movie, for sad scenes I will not spoil, but most of the audience's cheers were sparked by memorable lines or actions from the characters on screen, rather than by the orchestra seated beneath it on stage.

Emil de Cou returns to conduct the NSO in Elmer Bernstein's classic score - complete with ondes Martenot (!) - for the screening of Ghostbusters 8 p.m. this Friday. wolftrap.org

City Ballet marks diamond jubilee with resplendent "Jewels"

Sara Mearns in "Diamonds," from Balanchine's Jewels, New York City Ballet. Photo: Erin Baiano

New York City Ballet celebrated its 75th anniversary by opening the season last fall with its blockbuster staging of George Balanchine's Jewels. A full-length abstract ballet, composed of three rather different acts, it is often described as having no plot. Watching this choreography in the Kennedy Center Opera House Tuesday night, for the first time in a decade, brought home the purely visual stories the work presents, matched ideally with the pulse of the music.

"Emeralds," Balanchine's opening tribute to French Romanticism, remains a graceful but melancholy affair. Set to Gabriel Fauré's incidental music for Pelléas et Mélisande and Shylock, the sense of profound tragedy pervaded the act, made more rueful by the lack of understanding of this unnamed pain from all those who see it. Indiana Woodward and Tyler Angle seemed graceful and settled in to the lead pairing in this part of Jewels, which they performed for the first time last fall. The delicate flute solo movement of the Pelléas music felt especially poignant, and the sadness of the group of men at the tableau's end, gazing up through the murky light to something unseen, felt funereal.

Balanchine's tribute to American dynamism in "Rubies" came across with delightful humor. Megan Fairchild and Anthony Huxley led the light-footed corps through the unorthodox steps and movements, timed with verve to Stravinsky's Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, energized by the lively piano playing of Stephen Gosling. The red-costumed dancers flirted with all sorts of Americana: they were cowboys, they were flappers, they were the chorus line of the Rockettes. In the most openly sexual moment of the whole ballet, the tall, elegant Mira Nadon was moved about by four male dancers, positioning her like a doll.

After tragedy and mirth came a sense of Russian classicism that stopped time, in the concluding "Diamonds." Sara Mearns, one of the company's most celebrated dancers, brought a reserved nobility to the role that Balanchine created for his muse, Suzanne Farrell. Her partner, Chun Wai Chan, became City Ballet's first Chinese principal dancer two years ago, and he provided all of the athletic power of their scenes, lifting Mearns with effortless strength and leaping with remarkable balance and agility. Andrew Litton paced the movements (all but one) from Tchaikovsky's dance-infused Third Symphony ideally with the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra, bringing to an end a grand tribute to Balanchine and the company he helped create.

Jewels runs through June 9. kennedy-center.org

A Survey of Enescu Symphony Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, while in the middle of a massive update of the Bach Organ Cycle Survey, I thought I'd squeeze in one with the symphonies of George Enescu, not the least because on the outset it appeared to be a bit of a quicky, with seemingly just five (?) sets out there. Even cursory research revealed this to be an illusion. There are, from what I’ve found out so far, eight cycles, and who knows what might yet turn up, with the help of the readers.

It is prompted, quite obviously, by the appearance of the most recent set, which Cristian Măcelaru managed to have appear on DG. (Quite neat, how DG likes to add nifty off-the-beaten-path cycles to their catalogue, like Franz Schmidt with Paavo Järvi or Carl Nielsen with Fabio Luisi, so long as they don't have to pay for it.)

As always, every such discographic post, even one of such limited scope as this one, is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae. I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. (Preferably on Twitter, where I'll read the comment much sooner than here, but either works!) Where good reviews have appeared by serious reviewers, links are included.

Now what’s in a symphony cycle? That’s often a question, when it comes to these recorded surveys, be it in Schubert (1-7, 9 or more?), Bruckner (1-9 or all 11?), Mahler (Lied von der Erde or not? Blumine?). In Enescu, too, it’s far less straightforward than the obvious answer – Symphonies One through Three – might seem. There are, after all, two more symphonies that Enescu never finished but which have since been presented in performing versions by composer and musicologist Pascal Bentoiu. To convolute things further, there are four “Study Symphonies”, a Symphonia concertante (for Cello and Orchestra), a Symphonic Suite for Orchestra (the Poème Roumain), and the great symphonic poem Vox maris for tenor, three-part choir and orchestra.

Among other orchestral works that are popularly (if that’s the right word) coupled with the symphonies, are his other orchestral works. They include primarily the two Romanian Rhapsodies, of which the first might be his most popular works, three Orchestral Suites, the Overture on Popular Romanian Themes, two Intermezzi for strings, “Three Overtures for orchestra”, the Tragic Overture, the Triumphal Overture, a Sonata for Orchestra, the Andantino from an orchestral suite, “Four Divertissements for orchestra”, a Pastorale-Fantaisie for orchestra, the symphonic poem Isis (also completed by Pascal Bentoiu), and the Suite chatelaine for orchestra (completed by Remus Georgescu).

The three numbered, completed works appear to be just scratching the surface of the deep Enescu-waters. For the purposes of this survey, however, Nos. 1 to 3 is what counts and will be considered complete. Boni and links to other works are, however, included at the end of it.

The fact that much of Enescu’s music can appear as episodic is, in part, probably as possibly an outcome of our own lack of familiarity with these works and Enescu’s idiom, as of the performances themselves. Enescu needs attention, more often than he demands it. As such, the listening experience either requires more concentration and commitment from the listener than listening to yet another performance of La Mer, or greater exposure. But like other Surprised-by-Beauty composers (Martinů comes to mind), Enescu pays back that investment – and more consistently than some. Dip your ears – maybe start with the Third Symphony or Vox maris, among the orchestral works; the First Rhapsody is almost too easy to like, do that a few times, and see where it takes you if you haven’t arrived yet.

Orchestra names: Usually, I use standardized English names for orchestras, but sometiemes I like the original, because it is pithier. Or I use both, to confuse people. In any case, the George Enescu State Philhamonic Bucharest Filarmonica George Enescu (GESP) is the Filarmonica George Enescu in Romanian. The Orchestra Națională Radio used to be Orchestra of The Romanian Radio and Television and, in English, is now the Romanian Radio National Orchestra (or National Radio Orchestra of Romania, RRNO). For the Iași “Moldova” Philharmonic Orchestra (also: Moldova Philharmonic or Philharmonia Moldova) I used its Romanian name: Filarmonica Moldova Iași, which strikes me as less clunky. Ditto the Timisoara Banatul Philharmonic Orchestra, which is either refered to here as the Filarmonica Banatul (din Timișoara) or more simply as the Bantul PO.
Enjoy and leave a comment in some form!


Edits Date: TBA



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