"It sounded just as if I had
been listening to a CD", my guest for the evening commented after
hearing the Cleveland Orchestra’s performance of Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony
under their departing Music Director, Christoph
von Dohnányi. It is a pretty accurate
description for a performance that was technically flawless but emotionally
void, one that whilst resting on the laurels of its polished sound came
across as musically soulless. In part, the orchestra played as if on
auto-pilot giving the performance a gritty inevitability, but the damage
was mostly achieved by a conductor who concentrated more on the surface
beauties of this work (and they are considerable) than on trying to
get underneath the work’s epic structure. If this work was given any
sense of architecture and space at all it was juxtaposed with a tawdry,
nihilistic lack of expression. It was simply too well upholstered, too
polished, as if time itself had never ravaged any of the contours of
this great and mysterious work.
Mr Dohnányi’s way with Bruckner
is similar to the Mahler he has performed with his other orchestra,
the Philharmonia. Lacking musical perspective, his performances of the
biggest symphonies miss the purpose and passion of the symphonies –
in part illustrating the point that some conductors surely need the
score in front of them during a performance (Mr Dohnányi conducted
without one). Only once during the whole span of this performance did
I feel any sense that something unique was happening – and that was
in the development of the final movement when the clarinets were given
such a transparency of sound it really did appear that they were rising
through the mist of the orchestral sound. It rarely comes across that
way.
Both opening movements hung fire
in a surprising way, especially given that tempi were neither forced
nor excessively slow. Yet, the parameters of this performance were almost
contradictory – a fluid pace which proved elusive in bringing out any
detail. Pierre Boulez takes a similar approach to the opening movements
yet his performance is drawn with modes of expressivity simply unmatched
by Mr Dohnányi. In the second movement, for example, Bruckner
uses a plethora of instrumental detail to shed the image of this as
a repetitive, garrulous movement; Mr Dohnányi merely made it
sound monotonous. In the first, the sweeping dramatic force which should
give this movement a growing sense of eruption failed to materialise.
The Adagio, although beautifully
played, particularly by the ‘cellos (basses being almost inaudible)
lacked that one thing it really should – a sense of meaning. Both conductor
and orchestra were slightly perfunctory in interpreting what should
be a volatile journey – and although the two climaxes were at least
shaped well, both ultimately failed to grip. This was, in fact, provocatively
over- emphasised by a reticent cymbal player. If the final movement
came off best it was partly because Bruckner never intended this movement
to be a traditional, symphonic resolution to the work (only the coda
brings all its elements neatly together): in so much of the movement
it is a continuation of what has preceded it, powerful brass chorales
intertwined with contrapuntal string harmonies. For both conductor and
orchestra there was little need to alter the methodology so ruthlessly
exposed in the earlier movements, and in many ways they simply kept
things as they were.
There can be no doubt whatsoever
that The Cleveland Orchestra is a formidable instrument, and this was
a magnificently played performance of Bruckner’s grandest symphony.
Frequently, the wide dynamic of this orchestra’s corporate sound seemed
a little overwhelming, but with such spectacular brass playing one can
easily forgive the inherent loudness, always assured, often blistering.
This makes it all the more unfortunate that the interpretation itself
was such a disappointment. Having started on the journey of listening
to Bruckner’s Eighth one does rather hope to reach one’s destination;
in this case, one felt as if one had been stranded midpoint.
Marc Bridle