Seen and Heard International
Concert Review
Fauré, MacMillan, Beethoven:
Martha Argerich, Piano, The Philadelphia Orchestra, Charles Dutoit,
Conductor, Carnegie Hall, New York City, 12 April, 2005 (BH)
Fauré: Suite from Pelléas et Mélisande,
Op. 80 (1898)
MacMillan: Symphony No. 3, "Silence" (2003,
New York Premiere)
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Major, Op. 15 (1795;
revised 1800-01)
A sensuous Fauré Pelléas et Mélisande
suite began last night’s program, which showed off Charles
Dutoit’s strengths and some velvety playing by the Philadelphia
Orchestra. I can’t recall the last time I heard this piece,
and it’s a beauty. In four sections totaling about twenty
minutes, it opens and closes with quietly shadowed passages, with
livelier dances in between. There has always been much talk in
recent years about the changed texture of the ensemble’s
strings – an observation I don’t always hear –
but this showed them off handsomely, and others, too. Dutoit singled
out Jeffrey Khaner on flute, Ricardo Morales on clarinet and Daniel
Matsukawa on bassoon for well-deserved ovations.
It is a strong new piece that can make an impression when Martha
Argerich is waiting in the wings, and James MacMillan’s
intriguing Symphony No. 3, with its ambiguous, understated
subtitle was just about perfect for the task. “Silence”
comes from the novel by Japanese writer Shusaku Endo, from whom
MacMillan has extracted the idea that silence is not absence but
presence – very John Cage. In this case the word
might be a bit ironic, since yes, there are occasional silences,
but only sandwiched in between the composer’s typical bursts
of orchestral clamor.
Mr. Dutoit has championed this work since he gave its world premiere
in 2003, and there is much to be said for becoming so familiar
with a contemporary score. His expertise was evident from the
opening, and didn’t lag over a span of about thirty minutes.
MacMillan uses a vivid palette, including many delicate glissandi
in narrow intervals (seconds and thirds) for strings and trombones,
embellished with bells, blocks or softly struck gongs. Instruments
group together, then elastically stretch apart, sliding into more
episodes, punctuated by silence. It’s a bit difficult to
fathom the work’s structure completely after a single hearing,
but this is powerfully expressive writing, filled with ache and
sensuous textures, and yet still charged with electricity. Judging
from the audience reaction, the score clearly transfixed listeners,
and it will probably grow more interesting with further hearings.
What more can be said of a legend for whom superlatives
often seem feeble? After intermission, Martha Argerich strode
out to the piano to a typically feverish reception, and after
the perfunctory bow, and then delicately placing a handkerchief
on the strings inside the piano (a charming ritual I somehow have
never noticed before), she delivered one of the finest Beethoven
First Piano Concertos I can recall, riddled through and
through with humor. With an orchestra greatly reduced from the
sprawling MacMillan, Dutoit launched an elegantly proportioned
introduction. When Argerich entered, I had the uncanny sense that
the piano keys had already been moving before her fingers had
touched them. Not only was her articulation more or less beyond
belief, but her expressive skills were a wonder, with pianissimos
always projected and audible. Those quiet moments made the second
movement magical. At her best, Argerich finds the pure joy in
performance that great artists achieve more often than others.
As she dived into the final Rondo: Allegro, the opening
theme fairly exploded with an easy virtuosity that made me want
to laugh out loud. Dutoit and the orchestra followed right along
in tight formation, without any of the tempi bickering between
Argerich and her colleagues that sometimes trails in her wake,
even though sometimes this tension can be exciting. (Consider
her recording with Riccardo Chailly of the Rachmaninoff Third
Piano Concerto, in which she dashes off madly with her partners
sometimes struggling to keep up with her.) Here it was fascinating
to watch her hands sometimes moving as if attached to two entirely
different people in a dialogue with each other, yet each linked
by the same stunning articulation. But lest one think that her
greatness is only about accuracy, she has colors, too. In the
tiny moment of calm near the end, she suddenly drew out an intimate,
tinkling sound that might have been from a music box, before Dutoit
and the players charged in with the dramatic conclusion.
This was precise, utterly brilliant playing that one just doesn’t
hear all that often – in any repertoire. Returning for an
encore to even louder cheers from the audience, as Dutoit and
the members of the orchestra smiled broadly and joined in the
enthusiastic applause, everyone quickly quieted to watch Ms. Argerich
do Bach’s Bourées I and II from English Suite
No. 2 in A Minor, BWV 807. But it was the sunny final movement
of the Beethoven that had me chuckling for days afterward.
Bruce Hodges
Bernard Jacobson also reviewed this concert in Philadelphia: review
here.
