The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra’s Europa Concert takes place
on 1 May each year, and commemorates the founding of the orchestra
in 1882. The concert is broadcast on television, and is held
in prestigious locations in different centres of culture throughout
Europe. The Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford was the setting for
the 2010 concert, and I reviewed recently the 2011 edition from
the Teatro Real in Madrid. Here, in 2003, we find ourselves
in the sixteenth-century Jerónimos Monastery in Lisbon. It is
a awesome building, but its massive pillars will surely obscure
the view for much of the audience, and there’s plenty of reverberation
too, so maybe not the ideal venue for a symphony concert.
A photograph in the booklet shows Maria Joăo Pires and Pierre
Boulez receiving the applause after the Mozart. The moment has
been well chosen, as the conductor is actually smiling, and
at virtually no point in the concert do we see this. At seventy-seven,
he is clearly in good form and seems largely to have abandoned
his “chopping” technique for something rather more fluid and
elegant. No more expressive, however, as beating time still
seems to be mostly what he does in concert. And one is surprised
by how attached he is to the score, even, in the Ravel, turning
back a page at one point when a passage is repeated. In spite
of this remarkable passivity in front of the orchestra, the
Ravel is very fine; cool, as it should be, but with true feeling
and emotion just beneath the surface. We might speculate as
to why Ravel chose to orchestrate only four of the six pieces
– the final toccata is so purely pianistic that it is difficult
to imagine it in orchestral guise, but Ravel was capable of
anything – and many prefer the original version. But the orchestral
version, given here with a reduced number of strings, works
beautifully on its own terms, giving lots of opportunity for
the first oboe to shine, which he does here, earning himself
a justified solo bow.
When Simon Rattle took the Berlin Phil to Madrid, Chabrier’s
Espańa and Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez
were on the programme. Here, in Lisbon, the Portuguese element
turns out to be the wonderful pianist Maria Joăo Pires. She
demonstrates impeccable classical restraint in the Mozart concerto,
though not without power and drama. The orchestra accompanies
her perfectly well, but Boulez is hardly in his element. The
opening syncopated quavers seem stiff and four-square, and there
are many points in the work where he could open out and let
the music breathe, but doesn’t. Pires’ fingerwork is agile and
accurate, and she plays with refreshingly little show or ostentation.
Listen to the way she leads the music back to the main theme
of the slow movement, a model of poise and elegant music making.
If the storm that precedes this passage seems a bit tame, and
if humour – essential after so much turbulence – is in short
supply in the final coda, the accompanists are mostly to blame.
It’s a lovely performance overall, but just a little straitlaced.
Boulez could probably write out Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra
from memory. In Lisbon the opening doesn’t have much mystery
or promise, and much of the first movement seems rather ordinary,
though it’s not easy to explain quite why. When we arrive at
the whirlwind that opens the finale one is struck by how much
more successful is Fritz Reiner, on his historic RCA recording,
at transforming shameless Bartókian note spinning into something
wildly exciting. Then Boulez’ sudden decision to hold back the
tempo for the five-note brass tattoo seconds before the end
rather short-circuits the excitement created up to that point,
and seems perverse at best. Stronger, in this performance, are
the inner movements. Keeping the music moving, and with very
pointed playing, the second movement is very successful indeed,
and the central passage of the fourth movement, Bartók taking
on Shostakovich, is at once more savage and less satirical than
usual, an excellent idea in my book. The nocturnal middle movement
brings wonderfully mellifluous and blended playing from the
orchestra, and is perfectly led and paced by Boulez.
The Debussy, played as an encore, is announced by Boulez (in
English!). The impression of rhythmic rigidity, military rather
than festive, might be less strong if we couldn’t see the conductor,
but this is a DVD after all, and is meant to be watched.
The concert has been well filmed, the camerawork pleasingly
tranquil. We are shown the building a few times, notably when
the camera cuts to an altar for the brass chorale in the second
movement of the Bartók. We get to see a lot of Boulez, and close-ups
of the musicians are apposite and well timed, though the protruding
veins on the oboists’ and bassoonists’ necks – magnificent players,
all – make one thankful that one’s children have made different
career choices. Extras include a pretty travelogue of Lisbon
with German commentary and English subtitles, and a deeply unimpressive
series of rehearsal photographs. The booklet essay is adequate,
but more interesting than any of this is the Euroarts and Idéale
Audience catalogue that accompanies the DVD, confirming the
bank-breaking DVD riches now available for music lovers. On
the disc itself, a few minutes of rehearsal footage showing
how so impassive a conductor works with an orchestra to achieve
such undeniable results would have been an enlightening bonus.
William Hedley
Maria Joăo Pires (piano)
[100:00 + 19:00] 