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New York Philharmonic Perform Tchaikovsky & Shostakovich at Lincoln Center

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Wednesday, 25 March 2026 13:27; Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the night of Thursday, January 8th, I had the privilege to attend a superb concert presented by the New York Philharmonic under the sterling direction of Gianandrea Noseda.

The event started splendidly with an exhilarating account of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s dazzling Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23—which reached its ultimate revision in 1889 and was dedicated to the German pianist and conductor, Hans von Bülow—here brilliantly performed by the eminent soloist, Behzod Abduraimov. The first movement begins with a celebrated fanfare and then a statement of passionate Romanticism; a moody, solo passage for the piano is followed by a recapitulation of the opening theme. The next section starts with a lilting, balletic theme and the music becomes more playful; the development is complex and elaborate with numerous, highly virtuosic passages and the movement concludes forcefully. The ensuing slow movement is lyrical and—like the concerto as a whole—melodious; it soon acquires a waltz-like quality and an accelerated tempo—it closes softly. The Allegro con fuoco finale is propulsive and dance-like in rhythm, ultimately culminating in an expression of intense emotionalism, ending triumphantly. Enthusiastic applause elicited a marvelous, dazzling encore from Abduraimov: Franz Liszt’s famous Étude No. 3, “La Campanella,” from the collection Grandes études de Paganini.

The second half of the evening was maybe at least equally impressive: a magisterial realization of Dmitri Shostakovich’s extraordinary, seldom performed, very ambitious Symphony No. 4 in C minor, Op. 43, which was finished in 1936. The initial, Allegro poco moderato movement opens urgently with a suspenseful march but it also has ludic elements that sometimes come to the fore as well as more subdued passages; towards its finish, a quieter march unfolds and it ends abruptly. The sequence of the next (and last) two movements is restrained at the outset but becomes more powerful—again there are seemingly jocular moments even as an ethos of great seriousness pervades although the music is also often quite lively. Later, the music becomes exuberant and affirmative followed by an extended, more gentle episode, closing pianissimo.

The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.

March '26 Digital Week III

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Thursday, 19 March 2026 22:02; Written by Kevin Filipski

In-Theater Releases of the Week

Slanted

(Bleecker Street)

Chinese-American high-schooler Joan yearns to be as popular as white girl Olivia, so in desperation Joan goes to a clinic to get something called ethnic modification surgery, transforming herself into Jo, the girl of her own dreams, in writer-director Amy Wang’s unsubtle but effective black comedy that takes more from Mean Girls than last year’s overrated body-horror cautionary tale The Substance.

Wang’s script is as blunt as a sledgehammer, but her unsettling film has the courage of its convictions and is led by resonant performances from Shirley Chen (Joan) and McKenna Grace (Jo).

The Bride!

(Warner Bros)

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s writing-directing follow-up to The Lost Daughter pulps Mary Shelley’s classic novel into a steampunk mashup of Bonnie and Clyde and The Bride of Frankenstein that’s so on the nose and incoherent that it’s starts out risible and ends up enervating.

Pointlessly using Shelley herself as a framing device to comment on and propel the story (such as it is) forward, Gyllenhaal lazily hangs several disparate but desperate set pieces onto the flimsy plot—Frankenstein’s creature (a hammy Christian Bale) and his undead female companion (an even hammier Jessie Buckley, who also overacts as Shelley) run from the law—including shoehorning in an unnecessary Young Frankenstein homage/rip-off (set to “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” duh). There’s a joylessness to the entire enterprise that’s surprising—even Gyllenhaal’s husband, Peter Sarsgaard, seems bored whenever he’s onscreen.

In-Theater/Streaming Release of the Week

Heel

(Magnolia)

A middle-aged couple, Chris and Kathryn, kidnap Tommy, a 19-year-old hooligan, to try and rehabilitate him, keeping him literally chained up in their basement with a collar around his neck—so the title of the film (and its original title, Good Boy) already hints we’re not dealing with a subtle character study.

The first English-language film by Polish director Jan Komasa (who made the intriguingly offbeat Corpus Christi) has visual panache but is saddled with Bartek Bartosik and Naqqash Khalid’s soggy script, in which everyone—Chris, Kathryn, Tommy, the couple’s young son Jonathan and their foreign housemaid Rina—acts so contradictorily that it’s less reality than arbitrariness. The cast, led by Stephen Graham (Chris), Andrea Riseborough (Kathryn) and Anson Boon (Tommy), does its best with what’s basically a shaggy-dog story.

Blu-ray Release of the Week

The Housemaid

(Lionsgate)

This often absurd but entertaining drama, based on Freida McFadden’s lively page-turner of a novel, tries a sleight of hand by pitting an unhinged mother, Nina, against her new, desperate housemaid, Millie—as Nina’s angelic husband, Andrew and young daughter Cece look on. Director Paul Feig could never be accused of subtlety, so when it’s obvious early on who the villain is, the rest of this overlong flick becomes a slog, especially when everything is spelled out with clunky flashbacks.

Still, the twisty revelations and consequences that are meted out are fun to watch, as are Amanda Seyfried and Sydney Sweeney’s paired performances as Nina and Millie. The Blu-ray looks good; extras include two commentaries featuring Feig, deleted scenes, short featurettes and a 40-minute look at how the adaptation went from McFadden’s book to screen.

4K/UHD Release of the Week

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

(Cult Epics)

In Japanese director Nobuhiko Obayashi’s glorious 1983 adaptation of Yasutaka Tsutsui’s 1967 sci-fi novel, teenage superstar-to-be Tomoyo Harada is a delight as Kazuko, a teenage student who faints one day in her high school’s lab and soon finds herself moving back and forth in time, reliving days in her past as well as finding herself in future moments.

Obayashi’s visual dazzlement beautifully conveys Kazuko’s bewilderment as well as trenchantly observing how a tentative romance could break the time-travel cycle. There’s an excellent UHD transfer and an audio commentary on the 4K disc; the accompanying Blu-ray disc includes the commentary, two visual essays, two vintage Obayashi interviews and a featurette about Harada.

CD Releases of the Week

Overtures From the British Isles, Volume 3

(Chandos)

This latest in a series collecting overtures by English composers consists of 11 works from the period 1938-49, overlapping the Second World War. The only piece I knew before hearing it was Benjamin Britten’s sprightly overture to his 1941 operetta Paul Bunyan, but there are also works by familiar names Alan Rawsthorne (1944’s Street Corner), Frank Bridge (1940’s Rebus) and Havergal Brian, whose lively Comedy Overture No. 2 from The Tinker’s Wedding (1948) is far less overwrought than his nearly three dozen symphonies.

These pieces and more—especially the enticing Yorick by Geoffrey Bush, who wrote it in 1949 as a musical memorial to famed comedian Tommy Handley—are vigorously played by the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra under conductor Rumon Gamba.

Piatti Quartet & Guests—Phantasy

(Rubicon)

Another disc of British works is made more intimate by their chamber form, highlighted by the masterly Ralph Vaughan Williams quintet that gives this disc its title. Similarly titled works by the underrated Herbert Howells (the “Fantasy” quintet) and Malcolm Arnold (his Phantasy for string quartet, subtitled “Vita Abundas”) anchor a collection that also features Ina Boyle’s mournful Lament for Bion, strikingly sung by tenor James Gilchrist, and her impassioned Still Falls the Rain, sung beautifully by mezzo Sharon Carty.

Short works by August Holmes and Michael Tippett round out a disc that’s elegantly played by the Piatti Quartet, violist Zahra Benyounes, cellist Jessie Ann Richardson, flutist Tom Hancox and clarinetist Chris Richards.

March '26 Digital Week II

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Thursday, 12 March 2026 22:29; Written by Kevin Filipski

Film Series of the Week/Rendez-Vous With French Cinema

Case 137

(Film Movement)

The great French actress Léa Drucker adds another sharply-etched characterization to her résumé as Stéphanie, an internal-affairs investigator in the Paris police force on a case of police brutality during the “yellow jacket” protests of 2018 in Dominic Moll’s low-key procedural that persuasively encompasses the complicated political aspects of class and race hanging over the investigation.

Drucker is unwaveringly good whether subtly taking the temperature of those she’s looking into or handling her skeptical ex-husband (a fellow cop), loving young son, and cantankerous mother. A top-notch supporting cast and Moll’s documentary-like visuals strongly contribute to this deeply moral, unnerving drama.

Colors of Time

(Distrib Films)

In Cédric Klapisch’s latest drama, four cousins meeting for the first time explore their celebrated ancestor Adèle’s home—as we meet Adèle herself (a fine Suzanne Lindon) as she leaves the sticks for Paris at the zenith of the 1890s Belle Époque and befriends artists like Claude Monet, who ends up having more to do with the extended family than expected.

Typically flavorful and spirited, lavish but not overstuffed, Klapisch’s film might be schematic in its crosscutting between the present-day cousins’ endless zoom calls about Adèle’s valuables—including a painting that may have a surprising provenance—and her adventures in the dazzling city of lights, but it’s a delight from start to finish.

Festival Film of the Week/True-False Film Fest

Who Moves America

(Sidereal Time Production)

This entry in the annual nonfiction film festival in Columbia, Missouri (the latest edition ran March 5-8) takes the pulse of the UPS workers preparing for—and, in many cases, dreading—a possible strike when the Teamsters contract with management ends in the summer of 2023.

Yael Bridge—who has made other films chronicling labor strife in America—provides an honest if necessarily one-sided chronicle of how so many workers who rely on their paycheck to get by respond to the possibility of losing money (and maybe more) for an important cause in a country that has been steadily, often ruthlessly whittling back workers’ rights at the expense of their corporate bosses’.

Streaming Release of the Week

Dracula

(Vertical Releasing)

French director Luc Besson returns with this downbeat, mostly colorless adaptation of the Bram Stoker classic, with Caleb Landry-Jones hamming it up mightily as the Count—his spectacularly grotesque makeup is the memorable part of the character.

Surprisingly—but in a good way—noted scenery chewer Christoph Waltz gives a nice low-key turn as the priest (Van Helsing in all but name) who tracks Dracula down, while Zoë Bleu plays Mina, Dracula’s paramour, with satisfying brio. Besson, a veteran of large-scale canvases, seems to have come a cropper with this umpteenth version of a well-worn tale, as he brings to it little energy or vitality.

In-Theater Release of the Week

For Worse

(Brainstorm Media)

Amy Landecker makes her triple-threat debut as writer, director and star in this agreeable romantic comedy about Lauren, a newly divorced woman who begins an on- and off-again relationship with Sean, a much younger man in her acting class, until they attend a wedding that marks a real turning point in her life.

Although much of this is mined for superficial comedy—Lauren’s ex has a hot yoga instructor as a girlfriend, Lauren’s best friend Jessi (a funny Missi Pyle) very much wants her to take the plunge with Sean, and the classes are led by no-nonsense instructor Liz (a too dour Gaby Hoffman)—Landecker makes an appealing heroine and as a filmmaker finds her feet in the second half, when Lauren meets two men with opposite designs on her (played by Landecker’s own husband, Bradley Whitford, and Ken Marino, the latter amusing in an obnoxious role).

The Philadelphia Orchestra Perform Mahler at Carnegie Hall

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Thursday, 12 March 2026 13:32; Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Tuesday, March 10th, I had the enormous privilege to attend a magnificent concert—presented by Carnegie Hall—played by the sterling musicians of the Philadelphia Orchestra, under the inspired leadership of Yannick Nézet-Séguin. It consisted of a powerful performance of Gustav Mahler’s monumental Symphony No. 2 in C Minor, the “Resurrection,” which was completed in 1894, and here also featured the extraordinary Philadelphia Symphonic Choir, directed by Joe Miller, along with two incredible soloists, soprano Ying Fang and mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato.

The initial, Allegro maestoso movement begins suspensefully, quickly building in intensity but with subdued episodes, and gradually acquiring a more affirmative character at times but with flashes of darkness; the more portentous music of the opening returns, leading to a highly turbulent section that climaxes very forcefully. Again, the thematic material from the introduction recurs along with music of a more æthereal quality. Once more, ominous motifs from the start are recapitulated but the movement then briefly assumes a more positive valence before it finishes abruptly.

The succeeding Andante moderato has a gentler, waltz-like ethos on the whole, but a sense of greater urgency moves to the fore more than once before it concludes very quietly. The scherzo it precedes is not unexpectedly playful, if with some slightly sinister measures, and has a driving rhythm; more celebratory music intrudes before a much dreamier interlude, after which a dance-like episode ensues, followed by moments of agitation as well as serenity—this movement also closes suddenly.

The penultimate movement, titled “Urlicht,” is a heavenly, immensely beautiful song, set to a poem from Des Knaben Wunderhorn; it too is over surprisingly fast. The Finale starts with sounds of tumult and then much more irenic music; a muted series of fanfares ushers in a more premonitory sequence before a chorale-like segment that rapidly becomes stirring and then subsides. After this, an extended, very tempestuous episode inaugurates another set of fanfares and then the entry of the chorus singing celestial music—based on a text by Friedrich Klopstock—along with the exalting contribution of the soprano and then too the mezzo-soprano. In quasi-Wagnerian fashion, the movement concludes joyously and transcendently.

With perfect justice, the artists received a standing ovation.

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