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New York Philharmonic Explores "Earth Between Oceans" at Lincoln Center

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Wednesday, 06 May 2026 13:38; Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Brandon Patoc

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, May 2nd, I had the privilege to attend a superb concert presented by the New York Philharmonic, under the brilliant direction of Gustavo Dudamel.

The event started memorably with an exciting New York premiere performance of Ellen Reid’s remarkable Earth Between Oceans from 2025, which was co-commissioned by this ensemble along with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and featured the marvelous New York Philharmonic Chorus led by Malcolm J. Merriweather. (She has composed another excellent work, Body Cosmic, which was recently played at Carnegie Hall by the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra.) About the composition, she told the San Francisco Classical Voice:

I wanted a sense of otherworldliness, adding vocals with no text, just oohs and aahs and muttering. The voices blended with the strings and woodwinds that created a haze around the piece that only the human voice can do. We're trained as listeners to hear the voice in ways like no other.

In her program note for the piece, she wrote:

In this work, I took joy in exploring rhythm as a primary compositional element. In Earth, the meter accelerates through the movement, erupting in a guttural peak when the voices from the choir unite for the first time. In Air, a lack of consistent pulse creates a sense of endless space. In Fire, polyrhythms morph, cycle, and grow, and in Water, the rhythm ebbs and flows like the currents of the ocean. Another seismic component to this piece is the large, wordless choir, conceived instrumentally and adding a dynamic timbre to the ensemble.

Earth Between Oceans celebrates the power of nature in conversation with the threats our environment faces. As a metaphor for the concurrent crises affecting our Earth, I captured field recordings while collecting plastic trash at beaches in Los Angeles (Venice, Santa Monica) and New York City (Rockaway Beach, Coney Island). These field recordings are woven throughout the work as connective tissue, a reminder that we live on a planet whose equilibrium is being challenged.

Finally, Earth Between Oceans is dedicated to Gustavo Dudamel, a bridge builder who forges meaningful connections across communities of people from different backgrounds, cultures, ages, classes, and abilities. His fierce positivity and tremendous talents inspire us to think bigger and do better. Therefore, despite the growing political, environmental, and social challenges we face, I felt deeply committed to ending the work with a sense of optimism — even if it feels out of reach.

Reid was present to receive the audience‘s acclaim.

Even more impressive was the second half of the evening, beginning with a sterling realization of Franz Schubert’s seldom heard, extraordinary Song of the Spirits over the Waters, D. 714, from 1821—this also included the Philharmonic Chorus—which is set to a text by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. This was followed by an exquisite account of Richard Wagner’s glorious Forest Murmurs—from his magnificent 1857 opera, Siegfried—arranged by Hermann Zumpe.

The concert concluded awesomely with a ravishing version of Igor Stravinsky’s stupendous, 1919 Suite from his score for his great ballet, The Firebird. The initial movement—The Firebird and Its Dance and Variation of the Firebird—opens ominously with music that recalls that of Béla Bartók and that turns uncanny and then skittish. The ensuing movement, The Princesses’ Round Dance, is bewitching and emotionally expressive in a way that betrays the composer’s much vaunted formalism, while the next, Infernal Dance of King Kashchei, is portentous, suspenseful, propulsive and turbulent. The succeeding, haunting Lullaby is uncommonly beautiful, and the unforgettable Finale slowly builds in intensity until it attains a stunning apotheosis.

The artists were deservedly, enthusiastically applauded.

April '26 Digital Week III

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Thursday, 30 April 2026 12:56; Written by Kevin Filipski

In-Theater Release of the Week

The Seduction of Mimi

(Kino Lorber)

Italian director Lina Wertmuller—who died in 2021 at age 93—made frantic and garish but intelligent and humane movies for nearly five decades, like this raucous but perceptively comic portrait of Mimi, a loutish chauvinist who dumps his wife for a new woman whom he impregnates, all while trying to finesse being a Communist while trying to hold onto a job in a fraught political climate.

Wertmuller always kicks her characters in the rear as she simultaneously laughs with and at them; if there’s a certain rawness to her filmmaking—which would get progressively more confident, culminating in her all-time masterpiece, 1976’s Seven Beauties—she always is great with her actors, and Giancarlo Giannini and Mariangela Melato, in their first of their three Wertmuller pictures as costars, respond with indelible performances.

Streaming Release of the Week

Late Shift

(Music Box)

In Swiss writer-director Petra Volpe’s taut and often urgent drama, harried nurse Floria works a typical hospital night shift, running from patient to patient—some grateful, others not—desperately trying to get other colleagues’ help, even confronting a doctor about to leave (and does), all while doing whatever she can, which includes, at one point, making a mistake in medication.

In her screed against woefully understaffed hospitals, Volpe often lays it on too thick, but as her camera records the interactions of Floria and others, it becomes quite clear that Leonie Benesch gives an effortless but intense portrayal that even triumphs over a slightly sentimental final shot that damages but doesn’t destroy all that has gone before.

4K/UHD Releases of the Week

Girls

(Cult Epics)

French director Just Jaeckin (1940-2022), known for softcore like the original Emmanuelle (1974) and The Story of O (1975), made this 1980 comedy-drama that’s also sex-centered but more character-centered as it chronicles four teen girls’ dealings with boys as well as older men while navigating themselves, their friendships and family life.

Although it’s a bit choppy, and the score by Eric Stewart of the band 10cc (whose “I’m Not in Love” makes an egregious appearance) is often misapplied, the energy and charm of its acting quartet—Anne Parillaud (who later became a star in La Femme Nikita), Zoé Chauveau, Charlotte Walior and Isabelle Mejias—make this an enjoyable romp. The UHD transfer has a nicely grainy look; extras include a commentary by Jeremy Richey and (on the accompanying Blu-ray) 2025 interview with Mejias, 2022 interview with Jaeckin and 1982 interview with Jaeckin, Parillaud, Cahuveau and Walior.

Sleepers

(Warner Bros)

The initial controversy over Barry Levinson’s 1996 movie as well as the Lorenzo Carcaterra book it was based on—is this story about several men whose deadly prank as young friends informs the rest of their lives true or not?—might have faded but watching the film makes one aware of how manipulative the entire thing is.

Still, your mileage may vary on whether that makes the storyline itself any less compelling, especially since it’s been expertly done by writer-director Levinson and his accomplished cast, from the big star names (DeNiro, Hoffman, Pitt, Bacon, Patric) to the mainly unknown youngsters. The film looks great in UHD; extras are two new featurettes with Levinson interviews.

Blu-ray Release of the Week

La Juive

(Naxos)

This grand opera by French composer Fromental Halévy (1799-1862), which dramatizes a then-impossible love between a Jewish woman and a Christian man, was once hugely popular but has since faded from the repertory with only sporadic revivals; this 2024 staging in Frankfurt, Germany, was directed by Tatjana Gürbaca, who does well by the work’s large scale and outsized emotions.

An excellent cast is led by Ambur Braid, John Osborne, Gerard Schneider and Monika Buczkowska in four demanding roles for big voices, and the orchestra and chorus are superbly led by conductor Henrik Nánási. There’s first-rate hi-def video and audio.

CD Release of the Week

Blackbirds

(Alpha Classics)

This disc would be invaluable if it only included Polish composer Grażyna Bacewicz’ Cello Concerto No. 2—a remarkable work that should be in the regular repertoire alongside Dvořák and Elgar—which soloist Nicolas Altstaedt plays brilliantly, with Maxim Emelyanychev sensitively conducting the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra. But Alstaedt had the inspired idea to include other modern works from the 1960s (the Bacewicz piece was composed in 1963, just six years before the composer’s untimely death a few weeks before she turned 60) to round out the disc, small-scale works illuminating the era’s cello sounds.

Morton Feldman’s Durations II and Benjamin Britten’s Cello Sonata—both with Emelyanychev on piano—are expansive and enveloping, as is Sándor Veress’ Sonata for Solo Violincello, another piece that needs wider exposure. And the coup de grace is a version of the Beatles’ “Blackbird” for cello, lute and vocal (the latter two by Thomas Dunford) that gives Alstaedt’s album the perfect title.

Brahms, Sibelius, & More with the Juilliard Orchestra

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Wednesday, 29 April 2026 14:34; Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Claudio Papapietro, courtesy of Juilliard.

At Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall, on the night of Friday, April 24th, I had the privilege to attend a superb concert featuring the precocious musicians of the Juilliard Orchestra, under the expert direction of David Robertson.

The event started splendidly with a marvelous reading of the outstanding Johannes Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat Major, Op. 83, from 1881, impressively played by a remarkable soloist, Angeline Ma. The initial, Allegro non troppo movement begins soulfully and then dramatically while a passionate Romanticism pervades it, even in its quieter, more reflective interludes; it finishes triumphantly. The ensuing Allegro appassionato—which functions as a scherzo—has a somewhat stormy quality for some of its length but there are more subdued passages; a statelier, more affirmative section precedes a recapitulation of the original material before the movement concludes emphatically. The Andante that follows opens tenderly and gracefully, culminating in a serene, rather meditative episode, but the movement becomes more turbulent at times as it unfolds; the inaugural melody returns in an extended, irenic dénouement that ends gently. The Allegretto grazioso finale is enchanting and joyful with a waltz-like character and ludic measures; it closes happily.

The second half of the event was comparable in power, starting with an admirable realization of the extraordinary, unorthodox Symphony No. 7 in C Major, Op. 105, of Jean Sibelius, from 1924. Also exciting was the last work on the program, a sterling account of John Adams’s enthralling Doctor Atomic Symphony from 2007, based on his eponymous opera about J. Robert Oppenheimer and Los Alamos. The first movement, titled The Laboratory, begins portentously and a strong sense of disquiet is sustained throughout it. The next movement, Panic, is unsettled in mood too as well as propulsive and suspenseful—it is very reminiscent of the music of Igor Stravinsky, particularly of a score like The Rite of Spring. About a part of the final movement, Trinity, the composer has written:

It is a setting (here intoned by the solo trumpet) of the famous John Donne sonnet, “Batter my heart, three-person'd God.” Oppenheimer's deep ambivalence about the weapon he has brought into the world finds voice in the poet's anguished cry of remorse over the loss of his soul.

This movement is mysterious and more amorphous in structure but also agitated; it concludes forcefully.

The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.

Broadway Play Review—“Dog Day Afternoon”

Details: Parent Category: Film and the Arts; Category: Reviews; Published on Tuesday, 28 April 2026 21:16; Written by Kevin Filipski

Dog Day Afternoon

Written by Stephen Adly Guirgis

Directed by Rupert Goold

Performances through June 28, 2026

August Wilson Theatre, 245 West 52nd Street, New York, NY

dogdayafternoon.com

John Ortiz (center) in Dog Day Afternoon (photo: Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman)

There are several problems with the stage adaptation of Dog Day Afternoon, the classic 1975 film directed by Sidney Lumet with Al Pacino as bungling bank robber Sonny centering a richly and blackly comic portrait of New York in 1972. The biggest flaw is that the flavorful New York atmosphere of which Lumet was a master is almost completely missing.

Of course, that’s because the stage cannot replicate what Lumet could show: a Brooklyn neighborhood where dozens of police and reporters—including news helicopters—and hundreds of locals showed up. In the film, the crowd is another character, hooting and hollering, at first cheering on Sonny—who exhorts them to yell “Attica!” to mock the police (mere months after prisoners there were killed during rioting)—before turning on him as the day drags on and it comes out that he needs money for his partner Leon’s gender-reassignment surgery. The “Attica” moment becomes the big first-act finale, with the audience taking over as the Brooklyn crowd while Sonny yells out those three syllables, which isn’t a very compelling replacement.

Otherwise, the play is well-staged by Rupert Goold on David Korins’ terrific set of the bank’s interior and exterior, which swings adroitly back and forth depending on wherever we are in the scene. But aside from sound effects that blast “New York” to the audience, the authenticity of early ’70s Brooklyn is absent. Stephen Adly Guirgis has written plays that drip with the exciting if sordid atmosphere of New York City that’s not usually captured elsewhere, like his Pulitzer Prize-winning Between Riverside and Crazy, so he might have seemed a logical choice for Dog Day.

His dialogue has the usual rat-a-tat of the city; even though large chunks come from Frank Pierson’s Oscar-winning screenplay, lots of other dialogue is new to the show. Guirgis even invents an amusing scene of a TV reporter talking to a gay-rights advocate after the disclosure of Sonny’s and Leon’s relationship, but this seems shoehorned in. But perhaps a few more such moments would have better taken the pulse of snarky local press coverage and local people’s reactions.

Guirgis too often coasts, though, as cheap humor prevails over incisive dialogue. Even outing Sonny to the others in the bank is played for laughs, which seems rather ironic in this context. Guirgis even changes the name of the cop in charge from Moretti (played so memorably by Charles Durning in the movie) to Fucco, which occasions repetitive mispronunciations of his name as Fucko. It’s to John Ortiz’s credit that, as Fucco, he gives the most sympathetic and well-rounded portrayal in the show.

Lumet also had Al Pacino, John Cazale and Chris Sarandon to further make this tragicomic tale riveting and unforgettable. Onstage, Jon Bernthal tries so hard not to act like Pacino that he ends up doing it anyway as Sonny; as his partner in crime Sal, Ebon Moss-Bachrach is as effectively low-key as Cazale was, but in his own sardonic way. As head teller Colleen, Jessica Hecht is not as irritatingly mannered as she usually is, but I would have liked to have seen what Andrea Syglowski—a trenchant actress who plays one of the tellers—could have done with that part. Esteban Andres Cruz doesn’t have a chance to make Leon as believable in his brief appearance as Sarandon did in the film, since—again—Guirgis plays Leon’s stay at Bellevue for easy yucks. And the phone call between Leon and Sonny (one of the highlights of the film) doesn’t have the same heartbreaking weight.

It might seem unfair to compare the play to the film, but this production keeps inviting it, mostly to its detriment. The stage version even uses a snippet of Elton John’s “Amoreena,” a rollicking deep cut from Tumbleweed Connection that’s played over the film’s opening credits, to begin act two. My most pressing thought after seeing this was, now that three 1975 best picture Oscar nominees have had stage adaptations (also One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Jaws, by way of The Shark Is Broken), when will we get to see Nashville and Barry Lyndon onstage?

Reviews

New York Philharmonic Explores "Earth Between Oceans" at Lincoln Center

April '26 Digital Week III

Brahms, Sibelius, & More with the Juilliard Orchestra

Broadway Play Review—“Dog Day Afternoon”

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