Decades ago, when classical music on record was emerging as a
mass market product for the first time, Beethoven interpretation
sounded big, bold, slow and muscular, like a pronouncement from
Mount Olympus. Great interpreters of bygone days, such as Furtwängler,
Klemperer or Walter, emphasised the monumental nature of Beethoven’s
symphonies with large-scale playing, big sound and often luxurious
tempi. The standard benchmark for this style – often inaccurately,
in my view – was Karajan’s 1962 set with the Berlin Philharmonic,
the first Beethoven series that was planned and recorded as a
cycle. Hugely influential in its day, Karajan’s Beethoven seemed
to lay down a template that many other conductors followed. Then
with the rise of the period performance movement, and especially
in the 1990s, attitudes to Beethoven changed, and with the emergence
of interpreters like Norrington, Harnoncourt, Mackerras and Zinman
a new style of Beethoven playing emerged: lean, lithe, smaller-scale
and more transparent. This then became the new orthodoxy, and
even venerable institutions like the Vienna Philharmonic adopted
it in their 2002 set with Simon Rattle. The achievement of Christian
Thielemann, in this new Beethoven cycle, also with the Vienna
Philharmonic, is to argue a convincing case that the older style
of Beethoven playing is still relevant to the 21
st
century and that the muscular, broader approach to Beethoven even
now has something to say.
Right from the start it is apparent that Thielemann is, for want
of a better phrase, an old-school conductor in his approach to
Beethoven, but that isn’t to say that he hasn’t learnt anything
from the discoveries of period practitioners like Harnoncourt
and Zinman: rather he has listened to their revelations and responded
to them in his own unique way, producing a Beethoven approach
that is distinctly his own. The booklet notes for these DVDs describe
Thielemann as seeking “to restore to the Classical and Romantic
repertory the sort of musical riches and unprecedented expressivity
that we associate with a conductor like Wilhelm Furtwängler”.
It’s a big claim, but it’s not as simple as that. The critic and
musicologist Joachim Kaiser, who presents all the extra documentaries,
describes Thielemann as “an adventurous conservative”, and that’s
a much better way to put it. Thielemann combines the best of the
old with the best of the new, producing an organic, vitally alive
Beethoven cycle with its roots in the old school but with some
period influences too.
The first things I listened to in this set were the two overtures.
Thielemann’s slow, monumental approach to the opening of
Egmont
makes it much more powerful and accentuates the contrast with
the
Allegro, and this characterises his way with the symphonies
too. His
First begins slowly and with a monumental edge,
but this enables him to keep something in reserve for later so
that the Menuet has undeniable “oomph”. Likewise, in the
Second
the introduction is unashamedly a slow one, and it is all the
more effective for that. When it begins, the main section of the
movement is really
con brio, bristling with energy
and crackling with style; judging from the musicians’ faces they
are clearly enjoying themselves. Thielemann takes the
Larghetto
at what is - for today - a daringly unhurried tempo, making it
mellow and very beautiful, and here, as throughout this cycle,
there is an incomparable blend to the Vienna string sound which
really comes alive in DTS surround sound. I loved the way Thielemann
obviously teases out every phrase, extracting every ounce of beauty
and meaning. Some might call this ponderous, but it’s all of a
piece with his vision for Beethoven and, for me, it really worked.
Real sharpness of attack cranks up the
Scherzo to the
nth
degree and the finale goes off with the energy of a Catherine
Wheel. In the accompanying documentary Thielemann denies entirely
the idea of a great gulf between the Second and Third Symphonies:
instead he sees one as a natural next step after the other and
I, for one, was convinced. This big, ballsy approach works just
as well for the
Eighth, in no way a miniature symphony
when performed like this. The first movement explodes off the
page, and the menuet has as much swagger as the scherzo has delicacy.
The finale is electric too.
The most important thing about Thielemann’s Beethoven is that
it is responsive and alive. For many this may also be the most
controversial thing about it too, particularly in his approach
to tempi, which is remarkably flexible. I doubt he has taken much
heed of Beethoven’s metronome markings, but even if he had then
he disregards them freely as and when he needs to. With
Coriolan,
for example, he pulls the tempo around all over the place for
dramatic effect, with an
accelerando here and a
rallentando
there. It lends colour and drama to the pacing and, for me, it
worked, but I can appreciate how it might infuriate others. This
is true of his approach to the symphonies too, but it’s more controversial.
In the opening of the
Eroica, for example, he adopts a
myriad different tempi for the different sections of the movement:
even in the first statement of the first subject there are plenty
of ralls and hesitations before the subject unfolds fully. During
the run-up to the crashing discords of the development the movement
threatens to grind to a halt completely, before speeding up as
the oboe theme enters. For me it’s an effective – and quite exciting
– depiction of the drama of chaos and renewal, but some will find
it off-putting.
There are also times when I think Thielemann’s approach to tempi
seems too self-conscious, most damagingly in the opening burst
of the finale of the
Fifth. After what had been a very
exciting and purposeful account of the symphony so far, Thielemann
slows up dramatically for the first two bars of the finale with
the entry of the extra brass, but then speeds up enormously for
bar three onwards. He then adopts the same strategy for the exposition
repeat and the recapitulation. To my ears this distends the music
and distorts it to the point of wilfulness. It wrecks the sense
of organic growth that had been present in the music thus far.
In the
Ninth it is much more successful though - particularly
in the first and last movements. The first subject emerges from
the opening like the sun from a gas cloud and builds up a titanic
power that never lets up. Furthermore, the finale’s contrasting
moods seem almost to give Thielemann
carte blanche to try
out every technique in his armoury, which he does to scintillating
effect. The opening paragraph is responsive and dynamic, like
an operatic recitative, and an elongated pause before the first
appearance of the
Ode to Joy theme gives its unfolding
a sense of cumulative power that builds steadily. The great double
fugue after the “Turkish” section is a core piece of the architecture:
he slows down in the lead up to it, making it burst onto the stage
with electric power, and then slows down drastically in the lead-up
to the joyous, full statement of the
Ode, rendering it
all the more ebullient. The ensuing sections are all very different,
but
Seid umschlungen seems to be, for him, the central
core of the whole work. Soloists are all very good, though Zeppenfeld’s
bass doesn’t have the clarion quality it needs. The choral singing
is also excellent, and the DTS surround really comes into its
own here.
In some ways it is the most rhythmically unstable symphonies that
are the most successful. The
Seventh presents Thielemann
with a real challenge which he meets triumphantly, shaping a living,
breathing organism from Beethoven’s notes. I have seldom heard
the bounce of the last two movements of the
Fourth played
so convincingly as here. Referring to the
Fourth’s finale,
Thielemann says that the players and conductor must have absolutely
rigorous control in order to evoke an atmosphere of the music
spiralling out of control. This is done very successfully, but
could just as easily apply to the whole of the
Seventh
too. The
Pastoral is also a delight: warm and expansive
with a real feeling of joy in its enjoyment of the natural and
spiritual worlds, though the entry of the brass in the storm could
have been more decisive.
In some ways this is a try-before-you-buy set, as Thielemann’s
interpretative decisions won’t be to everyone’s taste. However,
the playing and the presentation surely will. The Vienna Philharmonic
clearly enjoy a very close relationship with this conductor and
they seem to relish the opportunity to play with him. The beauty
of the string sound and the character of the wind playing are
second to none, and they are captured brilliantly in the splendour
of the Muskiverein. Furthermore, the quality of the surround sound
is excellent: the centre speaker is perhaps a little too prominent,
but the immersive experience is most effective. Each director
manages to capture the picture well too, putting the eye where
the ear suggests it should be, though Agnes Méth’s filming of
the
Eroica is the least successful, choppy and unsure of
itself at times.
The other USP of this set is the series of accompanying documentaries.
Each symphony has an individual film lasting between 50 and 60
minutes, analysing the background of the work and deconstructing
Thielemann’s interpretation. The presenter of each documentary
is Joachim Kaiser, the grand old man of German music criticism.
In each film he gives his own view of the symphony and then engages
Thielemann in a conversation to tease out why Thielemann has come
to the interpretations he has. I was quite excited about watching
these, but they weren’t as revelatory as I hoped they would be.
The main problem is that too much of each film consists merely
of repeating the footage of the symphony you have just watched.
For the shorter symphonies more than half of the running time
comprises simply repeating what you have already seen. The most
successful documentary is the one on the
Ninth, partly
because of what is said about it but also because there is less
space for mere repetition. Kaiser and Thielemann enjoy sparking
ideas off one another and much of what they say is interesting
and memorable. We also get some very interesting comparisons with
other filmed Beethoven symphonies from Karajan, Bernstein and
Paavo Järvi. In truth, though, while they may have been fairly
interesting for understanding Thielemann’s approach, I can’t say
they fundamentally altered my view of Beethoven’s symphonies beyond
a little insight here or there.
Still, even without these documentaries this set would demand
the attention of most music-lovers. Thielemann’s Beethoven is
rigorous, intellectual and well considered, even if you don’t
always agree with him, and the playing is outstanding throughout.
Unitel has given us an interpretation which won’t replace the
classics but is worthy to sit alongside them, a bold attempt to
recapture and redefine Beethoven for the 21
st century.
Simon Thompson
Full details:-
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
The Complete Symphonies (+ Coriolan and Egmont overtures)
Symphony No. 1 [27:52]
Symphony No. 2 [34:07]
Symphony No. 3 [56:58]
Symphony No. 4 [37:33]
Symphony No. 5 [34:34]
Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral” [46:15]
Symphony No. 7 [37:11]
Symphony No. 8 [28:16]
Symphony No. 9 [72:31]
Coriolan Overture [10:28]
Egmont Overture [10:58]
Extras: Discovering Beethoven: a documentary about each symphony where Christian Thielemann discusses his interpretation with musicologist Joachim Kaiser (each documentary c. 55 minutes long)
Annette Dasch (soprano), Mihoko Fujimura (alto), Piotr Beczala (tenor), Georg Zeppenfeld (bass); Wiener Singverein; Wiener Philharmoniker/Christian Thielemann
rec. Nos. 1-2 and Coriolan: December 2008, directed by Brian Large; Nos. 3-4: March 2009, directed by Agnes Méth; Nos. 5-6: April 2010, directed by Karina Fibich; Nos. 7-8 and Egmont Overture: November 2009, directed by Michael Beyer; No. 9: April 2010, directed by Agnes Méth
Filmed in High Definition, Picture Format 16:9, Sound Formats PCM Stereo, DTS 5.0, Region Code 0
Full details listed at end of review
UNITEL C MAJOR 703508 [9 DVDs: Music: 446:00; Documentaries: 510:00]