Bartók’s remarkable
‘Pantomime in One Act’ is one of the
most notable early offspring of Stravinsky’s
Sacred du Printemps. It has all
of its model’s rhythmic drive, harmonic
dissonance, dynamic violence and orchestral
extremism. Yet the story-line, in place
of Stravinsky’s primaeval Russia, is
strictly 20th century and
strictly urban. A couple of pimps force
a young girl to lure in passers-by so
that they can rob them. They proceed
with mixed success, until the arrival
of a strange oriental figure. The eponymous
Mandarin pursues the girl implacably,
despite the grievous wounds inflicted
by the panicking thugs. When at last
the girl capitulates and allows him
to embrace her, he dies.
Bartók’s stunning
music is most often heard in the shape
of the concert suite. So it’s great
to welcome another performance of the
complete ballet into the catalogue,
and, as ever, Marin Alsop has done a
fine job. It’s true that the orchestral
playing does not match the sheer venomous
virtuosity of Solti; but that is a pointless
comparison, as Solti and his Chicago
forces give us only the suite. The most
direct comparison is with Iwan Fisher
and the Budapest Festival Orchestra
on Philips. Though Alsop and her players
cannot quite equal the outstanding excellence
of that issue, there is much to recommend
in this Naxos version.
Individually, the Bournemouth
players are up to their tasks, with
the clarinet section in particular contributing
greatly to the nauseating seediness
projected by the music. Brass play well,
though muted trombones are all but inaudible
with the presentation of the sinister
oriental music associated with the Mandarin
(track 4). But the main drawback is
the lack of sheer power in the strings;
the opening is tame, where the violins
need to rip into their instruments to
suggest the frenetic activity of the
busy city, and a similar problem surfaces
in the girl’s dance (which begins with
some wonderfully delicate playing) as
the Mandarin pursues her.
However, at this price,
it is almost churlish to complain at
what is in fact a more than acceptable
account of the complete ballet. The
Bournemouth Symphony Chorus contribute
greatly towards the spooky final pages,
as the Mandarin dies, and Alsop steers
the whole thing with great sureness
of touch. Add to that thoroughly idiomatic
performances of two of Bartók’s
most enjoyable suites, the Dance Suite
of 1923 and the Hungarian Pictures of
1931, and you have a valuable and enjoyable
disc, well worth a fiver of anyone’s
money.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
see also review
by Tony Haywood, Michael
Cookson and Peter
Lawson