Sergiu Celibidache on DVD
In Rehearsal and Performance (1965 and 1982).
see end of review for disc contents
TV Format NTSC 4:3, Sound Dolby Digital 2.0, Region Code 0
EUROARTS DVD 2059118 [5 DVDs boxed together]
Back in October 2007 I reviewed
one of these DVDs, the Strauss and Rimsky ‘in rehearsal and performance’
disc. It’s slightly changed artwork colour since then, but is still
available singly, and still carries the same catalogue number. Now, however,
it can also be found available as part of this slip-cased set. I’ll
reprise my comments here, but be briefer about the remaining four DVDs.
Strauss and Rimsky-Korsakov
With regard to this disc, admirers will find much to interest them in this
DVD for whilst parts of it have appeared before, such as portions of the Till
rehearsal - it’s in part two of the Art Of Conducting - the fuller context
brings greater rewards. The rehearsal was given in 1965 and was captured in
black and white film.
It’s notable for the richness of Celibidache’s verbal pointers.
He wears slacks and a jumper. I noted down some of the more enlightening sallies;
and they come thick and fast. “Too much bow” is perhaps a conductorial
commonplace, though as often as not it’s too little bow that’s
the problem not too much. Not for Celi in Strauss. “Vibratissimo”
is a vibrant usage and certainly gets the strings working as does his encouraging
“very intelligent” to the first violins before adding - a master
of psychology - that he’d like them to repeat the passage because they
weren’t together. Some of his comments to the string section are the
most revealing of his methodology and show one how he liked to build up the
string sound. He’s insistent that the bowing of the second violins and
violas is tied to the firsts. At one point he steps off the rostrum to discuss
technical matters with the orchestra’s leader leading to an outburst
of relieved schoolboy chatter in the ranks. Then again how could you resist
- but how to put into effect? - his commanding cry of “Remain Epic,
gentlemen.”
So whilst remaining epic and displaying the requisite intelligence - for string
tone, balance - one needs to be careful over rhythmic matters under Celi’s
watchful eye. He’s solicitous though, adding “I don’t want
to hustle the horns” whilst admonishing the basses to “work together.”
He rightly stops the increasingly flat horn section and comes down hard on
“spaghetti” bowing - he can be very funny when he wants to be
- and all the while he mentions part of the Til narrative to the orchestra
to encourage and sharpen their musico-dramatic sense. I certainly can’t
imagine too many of his contemporaries telling their orchestra “metal
strings are no good - smells of burning.” He’s clearly after a
more burnished sound though he doesn’t need to spell it out. He dances
like a dervish too when the rhythm begins to hot up though things get deliriously
carried away when after giving an upbeat nothing happens - and conductor and
band dissolve into delighted laughter. Though of course he remains in control
to the end, admonishing the players not to get sentimental. These camera shots
are well filmed, generally from the behind the back desk of the first fiddles.
The subsequent concert performance features a little shaky camera work but
is otherwise unobtrusive; in black and white again obviously.
The Scheherazade concert footage comes from nearly twenty years later and
is in colour. The saturnine dervish has aged into a portly, grey haired seignior.
It’s a pleasure to see him smile with pleasure at the climaxes,
as it is to see his shimmering left hand encouraging more string tone. The
performance is slow though not as slow as it was to become but also full of
beautiful curvature and colour. The camera set-up is conventional and relatively
expert. But the same can’t be said of the sound, which is annoyingly
opaque and will dampen your ardour. You can hear it in much better sound on
DG 445141-2.
Despite these caveats the longish Strauss rehearsal will merit a place on
your shelf. It is an interesting character study - of control, relaxation,
terseness and more floridly encouraging praise. Psychologically it’s
a rewarding half an hour plus - and the performance shows the translation
of those ideas and ideals in fine fashion.
Brahms
Celi was joined by a favoured colleague, Daniel Barenboim, for performances
of both Brahms piano concertos in 1991. The First was recorded at the Stadthalle
Erlangen, whilst the Second was at the Philharmonie in Munich.
By this stage the conductor was walking slowly and being gently hauled up
to the rostrum where he presided over proceedings sitting on a chair. As might
be expected in the D minor, the maestoso elements of the music are intensely
explored. The measured and monumental approach is imbued with a considerable
degree of rubato, something with which the pianist is in full accord. Barenboim’s
metrical fluidity dovetails perfectly with Celibidache’s own view. But
it’s also noticeable how watchful Barenboim is. It’s clear that
he can’t always make out Celibidache’s (minimal) cues, and so
he strains physically to try to catch Celi cueing the winds at one point.
He also looks at him around the piano lid. One feels that Barenboim would
have been more comfortable if ensemble could have been ensured rather than
being guessed at.
The slow movement is rapt and expressive, and of a piece. Once again the soloist
is keen to ensure ensemble, to which end he follows the clarinets and oboes.
By the finale Celi, with a minimum of gesture, has remained cool, but Barenboim
is drenched in sweat beneath the bright lights. Excellent camera angles ensure
that we witness the full complement of drama of the performance. But it is
slow, slow, slow.
The Second Concerto seems more closely miked than the companion concerto and
the sound slightly less veiled too. Camera work is once again fine, though
we also get the by now standard shots of the pianist, face on, through the
raised piano lid. There’s a camera in the body of the orchestra which
we only see very occasionally. Yet however occasional it may be, it still
jars every time. The director delays a close up of the cello principal is
his slow movement solo until, in effect, the reprise, something I found frustrating.
Yet again, given the positioning of the conductor’s chair we can see,
quite graphically, just how problematic is contact between soloist and conductor,
no matter how experienced they both might be. This is another fine performance,
though it’s received more coolly than the companion concerto. Barenboim
smiles appreciatively at the principal cellist, and Celibidache adds his own
applause for the performance.
Dvořák and Prokofiev
One of the most disconcerting things about the performance of Dvořák’s
New World Symphony (1991) is that one of the violinists looks just
like Dvořák. This amusing detail was clearly not lost on
director János Darvas because he spends quite a number of his relatively
few close ups on this particular string player. If you don’t know what
the Czech composer looked like then this won’t trouble you. If you do,
then it will raise a smile. It looks like some weird shift in the space/time
continuum has occurred.
This is late Celi; beefy, bulked up, bronzed, edging to the corpulent. There’s
quite elastic phrasing in the Largo, but the folk rhythms have been pretty
well flattened out elsewhere, and I can’t say I got much from the military
rhythm in the finale.
Prokofiev’s Classical symphony is a different kettle of fish. This was
recorded in rehearsal and then in performance in 1988. One can learn a lot
from this rehearsal in particular. A much trimmer conductor stands for this.
He spends much of the time concentrating on the strings, barely bothering
to correct anyone else. Citing him doesn’t really convey how funny he
could be: thus the admonition; ‘Cosy bow stroke for pensioners - use
the original bowing’ doesn’t sound sneering at all in context.
But because he doesn’t use a score, the concertmaster constantly reminds
him of the rehearsal number, which can slow things up. The rehearsal is a
convincing exploration of the gradual refining of a string section, also of
the malleable suggestiveness of some of his stories. He tells the orchestra
a little narrative about one scene in the Symphony. It seems to work. Only
once does he address a player by name and that’s when he talks to the
principal flute, called Max. ‘I miss the belch’ he says. Max duly
obliges by roughing up his articulation. All this is in German of course,
but the subtitles are very effective. The actual performance is played in
civvies. Celi sashays his way through the finale, having a high old time.
Schumann and Tchaikovsky
Barenboim is back, once again in 1991, and this time with concertos by Schumann
and Tchaikovsky. He plays the former in the same location he’d performed
Brahms First. The performance also adheres to the same flexibility and expansiveness.
But power and lyricism are held in fine balance, and the camera direction
captures pianistic nuances with fidelity. Oddly, Barenboim stares out into
the audience for some considerable time before launching the slow movement,
but one can’t pick up what the interruption or distraction was. His
playing here and throughout is both fluent and sensitive, and garners very
warm applause.
Similar traits imbue the Tchaikovsky. This is a really fine performance, full
of bravura but also a sense of rich colour and imaginative characterisation.
Virtuosity is not paraded for its own sake, the music emerging both dramatic
and exciting. But the excitement isn’t generated mechanically, it’s
produced incrementally and architecturally. If you can’t quite see Barenboim
in the role as the heroic pianist astride Tchaikovsky’s steed, pay heed
to this outstanding performance. Fortunately it receives non-gimmicky, resolute
camera work. Once again co-ordination between conductor and soloist is a slight
concern but not, here, a real worry.
Ravel and Debussy
These items were filmed live at the Cologne Philharmonie on two days during
May 1994. Celibidache was to die two years later. By now he was very frail,
and was slowly led onto the stage, where he receives a huge ovation. His performances
of French music have considerable detail and clarity. Indeed, they may well
be considered rather objectified. Celibidache had a maverick view, saying
that no French conductor could conduct French music. This would have come
as news to, say, Monteux and Munch, to take just two of the eminent deceased.
It might also have come as news to Cluytens, Michel Plasson, and Georges Prêtre.
All three can conduct French music far better than Celibidache. His Bolero
lacks power, and there’s a strange lack of atmosphere in Alborada
del gracioso. But despite my being out of sympathy with his performances,
there’s no doubting the control he exerts over his orchestra, or that
they give every ounce for him.
It’s a shame to end on a lower note, given the richness to be encountered
throughout this set of DVDs. Often I find concert footage ephemeral and ask
questions of its historical significance as well as musical excellence. Given
that one plays DVDs far less often than one hopes, there must be something
about them to compel enthusiasm. I’d happily recommend the box set for
the Celi lover, but if you want me to rank them from 1 to 5 in order of desirability
(1 being most desirable), given their separate availability, it goes like
this:
1. Strauss and Rimsky
2. Schumann and Tchaikovsky
3. Brahms
4. Prokofiev and Dvořák
5. Ravel and Debussy
If the New World had been better I’d have pushed that disc above
the Brahms.
Jonathan Woolf
Admirers will find much to interest them.
see also reviews by Jonathan Woolf of the Strauss/Rimsky-Korsakov release and Rob Maynard of the Prokofiev/Dvorak release
| Masterwork Index | |||
| Till Eulenspiegel | Brahms concerto 1 | Brahms concerto 2 | Schumann concerto |
| Dvorak 9 | Prokofiev 1 | Tchaikovsky concerto 1 |
Contents
Disc 1 [104:00]
Richard STRAUSS
Till Eulenspiegel
Nikolai RIMSKY- KORSAKOV
Scheherazade
Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart
Also available separately as 2060368
Disc 2 [111:00]
Johannes BRAHMS
Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 2
Daniel Barenboim, Munchner Philharmoniker
Also available separately as 2066688
Disc 3 [114:00]
Antonin DVOŘÁK
Symphony No. 9
Sergei PROKOFIEV
Symphony No. 1
Munchner Philharmoniker
Also available separately as 2066558
Disc 4 [81:00]
Robert SCHUMANN
Piano Concerto
Pyotr TCHAIKOVSKY
Piano Concerto No. 1
Daniel Barenboim, Munchner Philharmoniker
Also available separately as 2066588
Disc 5 [101:00]
Maurice RAVEL
Bolero; Alborada del gracioso; Rhapsodie espagnole
Claude DEBUSSY
Prelude e l’Apres-midi d’un faune; Iberia
Munchner Philharmoniker
Also available separately as 3077968