Prom 11: Janácek, Mozart and Dvorák Till Fellner and Paul Lewis (pianos) / BBC NOW / Richard Hickox (cond.) Royal Albert Hall. 22.07.2006 (ED)

Janáček: The Cunning Little Vixen Suite (ed. Mackerras)
Mozart: Concerto in E flat major for two pianos, K 365
Dvořák: Symphony No 7

 

On paper this concert might appear a reasonable one. Take two Czech works and place a Mozart concert in between to feature the talents of two sought-after soloists. Two things, though, ensured that this plan did not translate ideally into practice: the choice of the repertoire or decisions regarding the performances themselves.   

 

The suite from Janáček’s cartoon-inspired opera The Cunning Little Vixen did not get things off to the best start. Exactly why it was programmed remains a mystery. Drawing extensively upon Act 1 of the opera for its material, the two movement suite was presented at a uniformly andante tempo, giving too little variation to enliven proceedings. Charles Mackerras, in restoring the composer’s intended orchestration to the music, might have intended thereby to restore atmosphere, but was more successful in creating a sombre – even sour sounding – torso. In the context of the whole opera the music would have made more sense too, but it did not stand well in its ‘untimely ripped’ state. Be that as it may, Hickox laboured hard to draw playing above the ordinary from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, in this his penultimate concert as the Principal Conductor. Only in the final minutes did the Vixen finally show some life with her escape to freedom, made to a rousing brass romp.

 

Reduced orchestral forces accompanied pianists Till Fellner and Paul Lewis in the Mozart concerto. Pairing up two Brendel protégés was a good idea and even if, as here, it was their first time playing together in public the performance might still have been a winning one providing they were equally familiar with the music. The intervention of printed scores however showed that perhaps they were equally unfamiliar with it. The opening orchestral flourish was hardly imposing; perhaps minds were still on the Janáček. Fellner was clinical in his approach, if a touch rushed at the start - the tendency that lessened as he progressed. Lewis, in taking the second piano part, seemed oddly subdued and not his usual stylish self.  Their playing of Mozart’s brief first movement cadenza did find a measure of the light and shade within the writing. The extent to which the orchestra takes a back seat in the work was evident in the middle movement, though their contributions varied between the inspirationally grand and the svelte of scale. Lewis and Fellner commented with understated knowingness upon each others’ playing.  A generally crisp closing rondo brought the pair to the emotional high point that is the second cadenza. Here more than elsewhere robust partnership is called for, but it was only partially forthcoming. Other players have given more to the music. No matter; it went down well with the arena crowd. The special intimacy they have with the platform could account for that.

 

Intimacy is not a requirement for Dvořák’s seventh symphony. The brooding hulk of a work captures the tussle between outward lyricism and darkly drawn drama in the composer’s writing. It is notable as well that Dvořák’s concern is rather deeper than the reconciliation of these two styles: it is a fight for supremacy which the dramatic instinct eventually wins. Hickox took a spacious view of the opening movement, laying bare the foreboding qualities from the start, so that their long term dominance came to seem almost inevitable. Strongly voiced lines from brass and winds alike marked out the robust and occasionally intentional punctuative quality found in the first movement. Emotional romance turned in a short-lived appearance at the start of the second movement before being transformed with aggressive force in an instant. Indeed, the orchestra really got into their stride at moments such as this, the music carrying them along. A certain oscillation of mood dominates the scherzo to create structural questions that need careful handling by the conductor. Hickox seemed a touch unsure at times exactly in which direction to take it, a performance choice perhaps not entirely unreasonable, given the music itself. Greater certainty though would have imparted more clarity to individual entries: the winds at times seemed altogether too tentative. The movement’s closing pages found momentum to dispel the preceding Bohemianism and build in waves of strength and link almost without a break to the allegro finale, which was powerful in its driven dominance.

 

Evan Dickerson