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Film and the Arts

New York Philharmonic Perform Boulez & Debussy at Lincoln Center

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, October 4th, I had the pleasure to attend a superb concert—of music by Pierre Boulez and Claude Debussy—presented by the New York Philharmonic, under the exceptional direction of Esa-Pekka Salonen, one of the finest contemporary conductors.

In the first half of the evening, the works were performed without pauses in between them, starting with Boulez’s very brief Notation IV, Rythmique, for Solo Piano, from 1945, played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, himself a protégé of the composer and widely regarded as one of the world’s greatest living pianists. This was followed by a powerful account of the orchestral reworking of the same piece, the final revision of which was undertaken in 1987. 

Even more memorable was a sterling realization of Debussy’s marvelous Gigues from his outstanding set of Images for Orchestra, completed in 1912. His colleague André Caplet assisted in the orchestration of the piece, writing of it in 1923 as follows: “Gigues … sad Gigues … tragic Gigues … The portrait of a soul in pain, uttering its slow, lingering lamentation on the reed of an oboe d'amore.” He continued: “Underneath the convulsive shudderings, the sudden efforts at restraint, the pitiful grimaces, which serve as a kind of disguise, we recognize … the spirit of sadness, infinite sadness.” In the liner notes for a 1967 recording of symphonic works by Debussy in which Boulez conducted The Cleveland Orchestra, he wrote this about it:

… I do not find the Scottish element the most significant feature of Gigues, but rather the oscillation between a slow melody and a lively rhythm. I use the work “oscillation,” but I might equally say “coinciding,” because, when the two elements are superimposed, they give the impression of a double breathing, and this is most unusual. Timbre plays a primary part in separating the two planes of sound; and by giving the slow opening theme exclusively to the oboe d'amore the composer helps to isolate it in the listener's mind. It is not only that the tone of the oboe d'amore is pretty and unusual, intended to recall that of the bagpipes and excellently suited to the expression in this opening passage. It also makes us aware that the tempo of this tune will not be “disturbed” by the appearance of other figures in a different tempo. 

After this, Aimard executed the Notation VII, Hiératique, which was immediately succeeded by its impressive orchestral version from 1997. This preceded an excellent performance of Debussy’s extraordinary Rondes de printemps, also from Images. About this composition, Boulez wrote in the same liner notes:

In Rondes de printemps Debussy makes use of a favourite rhythm of five beats in the bar, subdivided into two and three, with repeated notes … . The Frenchness of this piece is certainly the least noticeable thing about it, at least to foreign ears, and was, I suppose, wholly absorbed by the composer's own personality, so that there was no room for the “exotic.” His different handlings of “Nous n'irons plus au bois” are not in fact the most remarkable thing about this piece either. It may well be that Debussy felt most free when he was least concerned with the accuracy of his quotations.

Aimard then played Notation II, Très vif, before its compelling, final orchestral revision from 1987 that concluded the first half of the event. Salonen commented in a recent interview on Boulez's Notations

Notations is a very fascinating series of orchestral compositions. He didn't consider a work of his to be a closed unit, like a final word — everything was a continuous process — and Notations gives us a really fascinating point of view of this. 

What we are going to experience in the audience is like snapshots at a certain phase of the life of the composition that we are going to be hearing. The original Notations are these tiny, miniature piano pieces that Boulez wrote in 1945 — they are very much in the Webern tradition, extremely brief in expression and form, and each basically dealing with one idea. Decades later he takes one of these tiny piano pieces and expands it for a massive orchestra. It's really amazing to see that the DNA itself doesn't change and is able to produce that kind of monster. Notations II and IV are these quickly moving, massive pieces in which Boulez uses the full symphony orchestra including eight percussionists. Number VII, for me, is a little gem. That's Boulez in his most Ravel-ian, Debussy-esque mode, full of very serious beauty and a lot of ripples on the surface of an otherwise calm sea. I find that actually very poetic.

The second half of the concert was even more remarkable, beginning with Aimard returning to the stage for a magnificent rendition of Debussy’s seldom presented but beautiful Fantaisie for Piano and Orchestra, which was finished in 1896 but never performed in the composer’s lifetime. The initial, Andante ma non troppo movement opens lyrically, eventually becoming moodier and more turbulent, even dramatically so, but it concludes triumphantly. The ensuing, exquisite Lento e molto espressivo movement is more subdued and reflective—it too increases in intensity—while the closing Allegro is lively and virtuosic, ending forcefully.

The program attained its pinnacle with an enchanting reading of the same composer’s masterwork, La Mer, which received its final revision in 1910. The first movement—From Dawn till Noon on the Sea—starts somewhat mysteriously, soon acquiring a shimmering texture, but superseded by impressionistic passages before closing majestically. The next movement—The Play of the Waves—is, appropriately, more ludic in inspiration on the whole, but with moments of urgency; it concludes softly. The last movement—Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea—begins portentously and the music is often agitated—if rewardingly so—even tempestuous, but with quiet interludes; it finishes with a thrilling, propulsive climax.

The artists deservedly received enthusiastic applause.

Salonen’s tribute to Boulez with this ensemble continues through the following week.

October '25 Digital Week I

In-Theater Releases of the Week 
Are We Good? 
(Utopia)
Comedian and podcaster Marc Maron finds most of his material from his own life, however personal and tragic, and Steven Feinartz’s fly-on-the-wall documentary follows Maron during the COVID lockdown and tentative steps back onstage.
 
 
Informed by the biggest tragedy of his life, the sudden and unexpected death of his partner, director Lynn Shelton, at age 54 of leukemia in May 2020, Maron is shown at his most vulnerable—that is, if he can be even more vulnerable than he is onstage. This is a remarkably candid film about a remarkably candid man.
 
 
 
Bone Lake 
(Bleecker Street)
What begins as an unoriginal but enticing roundelay of two couples staying at a secluded B&B they apparently reserved at the same time soon devolves into a risible thriller comprising sex, jealousy, betrayal and survival after it’s revealed one couple is definitely not whom they seem.
 
 
Director Mercedes Bryce Morgan and writer Joshua Friedlander rely too much on cleverness, but right from the opening—the grisly killing of two nude people in the woods in what turns out to be a visualization of a character’s novel—they pile on lazy horror-flick clichés, which hampers the otherwise able acting by Maddie Hasson, Alex Roe, Andra Nechita and Marco Pigossi.  
 
 
 
The Ice Tower 
(Yellow Veil Pictures)
Not much happens in Lucile Hadžihalilović’s visually luminous but dramatically opaque drama about the unusual relationship between famous actress Cristina (the enchantingly chilly Marion Cotillard) and teenage orphan Jeanne (the excellent Clara Pacini) after they meet on the set of a new adaptation of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Snow Queen.
 
 
As in her earlier films, Hadžihalilović psychoanalyzes her characters in symbolic surroundings; Jonathan Ricquebourg’s exquisite photography, Nassim Gordji Tehrani’s razor-sharp editing and Julia Irribarria’s alluring production design fill in the blanks in Hadžihalilović and Geoff Cox’s script. Admittedly, the final momentous shots say more in their brevity and silence than the previous 110 minutes.
 
 
 
Jacob’s Ladder 
(Rialto Pictures)
The combination of Bruce Joel Rubin’s script laden with Christian symbolism and director Adrian Lyne’s visuals that toggle between tantalizing and turgid makes this often soggy 1990 drama about a Vietnam vet whose postwar existence in New York City may or may not be real creepily effective.
 
 
The special effects have an old-school feel, Maurice Jarre’s score worms its way into your unconscious, Tim Robbins is a properly intense hero, Elizabeth Pena (who sadly died in 2014 of alcoholism at age 55) is perfectly cast as his uncomprehending girlfriend, and there’s a solid (and surprisingly uncredited) appearance by a pre-Home Alone Macaulay Culkin as Robbins’ son. It’s basically a 105-minute Twilight Zone episode with an unsurprising but potent twist.
 
 
 
Ju Dou 
(Film Movement Classics)
This 1990 collaboration between Chinese master Zhang Yimou (who codirected with Yang Fengliang) and his then-muse Gong Li is an erotic, authentically grimy adaptation of a Liu Heng novel that nods to The Postman Always Rings Twice in its story of a young wife, saddled with an old and impotent husband, whose affair with one of their farm workers has moral and mortal repercussions.
 
 
Shot in the square Academy ratio that provides an ideally claustrophobic atmosphere, this blunt morality tale might be too on the nose in its color symbolism, but the magnificent presence of Gong Li as the title character is prime compensation. 
 
 
 
The Librarians 
(8 Above)
Kim A. Snyder’s timely exposé shows how fascist organizations like Moms for Liberty are destroying our country from within: under the guise of protecting kids, these groups—funded by dark right-wing money—are taking over school boards and helping ban books about subjects they don’t like, like LGBTQ+ and slavery, from school library shelves.
 
 
If there weren’t so many heroic librarians fighting back—including several who appear on camera, a couple of them anonymously—however pyrrhic some victories are, then this battle would have already been lost. But it might be too late, since Trump 2 is becoming even worse than Trump 1. 
 
 
 
Streaming Release of the Week 
Stella—A Life 
(Film Movement)
Stella Goldschlag’s story is sobering: a German Jew who first used forged documents to help her family escape Nazi prosecution, she soon discovered survival depended on turning in Jews herself to keep the Nazis at bay. This sordid tale, dramatically and morally complicated, needs a subtle hand to explore its terrible but all too human consequences.
 
 
Yet director-cowriter Kilian Riedhof and cowriters Marc Blöbaum and Jan Braren only skim the surface of this rich ore; there’s a complexity and richness that’s missing, which makes the admittedly striking final image less powerful that it should be. Paula Beer’s tremendously nuanced portrayal of Stella—she is impossible to look away from—helps ground the drama in her flawed but fascinating humanity.  
 
 
 
Blu-ray Release of the Week
Lohengrin 
(C Major)
Though German composer Richard Wagner (1813-83) was best known for his Ring cycle, this earlier opera is among his finest—it follows Lohengrin, a mysterious knight, who defends Elsa when she’s under suspicion for her brother’s death in a town rent by political upheaval and hostility. In this 2024 Vienna State Opera staging by Jossi Wieler and Sergio Morabito, Elsa is not the innocent love interest Wagner created her as.
 
 
But even a risible ending doesn’t ruin a magisterial music drama, with supple orchestra and choral work under Christian Thielemann’s baton and accomplished lead performances by British tenor David Butt Philip (Lohengrin), Swedish soprano Malin Byström (Elsa), German baritone Martin Gantner (villain Telramund) and Italian soprano Anja Kempe (Telramund’s wife Ortrud). There’s topnotch hi-def video and audio.
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week 
Bach Cello Suites—Anastasia Kobekina 
(Sony Classical)
The cover of Anastasia Kobekina’s superb new disc of the complete Bach unaccompanied cello suites—whose towering influence has only grown in the three centuries since they’ve been written—sums up how she performs these works: she sits holding a camera as if about to take a selfie.
 
 
That’s how she approaches the six suites, as a self-portrait, since playing them tells as much about the performer as about the master who created them. And it tells us that the 31-year-old Russian cellist is the perfect artist to both draw out the mysteries at the heart of these suites as well as leave their ultimate interpretations to the listener.

New York Philharmonic Turn on the "Devil's Radio" at Lincoln Center

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s excellent David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, September 27th, I had the pleasure to attend a fine concert presented by the New York Philharmonic under the distinguished direction of conductor David Robertson, here replacing Marta Gadolińska who had to withdraw on account of illness.

The event began auspiciously with the beautifully realized New York premiere of the engaging Devil’s Radio from 2014 by Mason Bates—who was present to receive the audience’s acclaim—the title of which, according to the note on the program, references an old Southern phrase, “Rumor is the Devil’s radio.” In his score for the work, the composer includes the following comment on the piece:

Sometimes the music is coldly propulsive, as at the opening, which uses a kind of sparkling “musical lure” in the upper woodwinds. But this is soon undercut by a bluesy bass line and energetic percussion, ultimately building into a soaring melody that's best described as vainglorious. Indeed, the work has ample brightness to counter its dark corners, and in this way it can be heard as a fanfare our villain might write for himself, complete with grandiose flourishes and an infectious swing section. But this lightness quickly evaporates in the work's final minutes, when thunderous hits in the low brass suggest a Goliath-sized figure throwing his weight around. He bows out with a wink and nod, ever the gentleman.

A remarkable soloist, Leila Josefowicz—who wore a flamboyant, elaborate, dark gown—then entered the stage for an admirable version of Karol Szymanowski’s imposing, undervalued Concerto No. 2 for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 61, which was finished in 1933. The work begins, with a tempo of Moderato molto tranquillo, almost lugubriously, eventually becoming more agitated, although with more reflective passages. A solemn, protracted cadenza—composed and credited to Paweł Kochański, the violinist that premiered the piece and who is its dedicatee—precedes more music of a high seriousness before the composition turns more sprightly as well as lyrical and impassioned, then rising to a powerful climax and closing triumphantly. Enthusiastic applause elicited an impressive, even dazzling, encore from the soloist: an excerpt from Lachen verlernt by Finnish composer Esa-Pekka Salonen, who will be conducting this ensemble in several performances during the following two weeks.

The second half of the evening was comparable in merit: an accomplished reading of Witold Lutosławski’s striking, too seldom played Concerto for Orchestra, that was completed in 1954. (The piece is especially reminiscent of the music of Igor Stravinsky and Béla Bartók.) The initial, Allegro maestoso movement, titled Intrada, starts portentously, sustaining a sense of dramatic tension across most of its length, until an extended, quiet episode. The ensuing Capriccio notturno e arioso movement, marked Vivace, is more playful, even insistently so, with a somber, commanding, even ominous Trio; it concludes softly. The weighty finalePassacaglia, toccata e corale—is often turbulent but again with subdued, as well as ludic, interludes; it intensifies before ending forcefully and suddenly.

The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.

September '25 Digital Week IV

In-Theater Release of the Week 
One Battle After Another 
(Warner Bros)
Each Paul Thomas Anderson film is treated as an Event, but his latest magnum opus cobbles together themes and characters he’s worked on for decades—this loose adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s novel Vineland is a flashy, convoluted, crude and cartoonish take on an America comprising left-wing terrorists and right-wing authoritarians. There’s some good material here, but Anderson throws everything against the wall to see what will stick, resulting in a tonally unbalanced and unwieldy 160 minutes.
 
 
The acting is all over the map—Leonardo DiCaprio’s wild-eyed terrorist hero stops just short of caricature, while Teyana Taylor and Chase Infiniti are solid if unspectacular as his wife and daughter, both of whom however (especially Taylor) are shortchanged by the script. Then there’s Sean Penn’s villainous Colonel Lockjaw—a failed attempt to channel Dr. Strangelove’s Jack D. Ripper and General Turgidson—which is wincingly embarrassing, likely the worst performance of a storied career. Anderson’s bombast reaches its nadir when he kills off Lockjaw three times in a couple of dragged-out, pedestrian sequences that add nothing to an already overstuffed vehicle. Finally, the less said about Jonny Greenwood’s typically excessive score—whose rhythmic drive is more repetitious than tense—the better.
 
 
 
Streaming Release of the Week
Infinite Summer 
(Indiepix)
Miguel Llansó’s often imaginative sci-fi hybrid follows a trio of bored young women in the Estonian capital of Talinn one summer whose meeting with a man named Dr. Mindfulness who introduces them to the wonders of a new app that promises a meditative experience but ends up being much more than they bargained for.
 
 
Llansó’s film adroitly balances everyday relationships with fantastical dream-like interactions that become a fascinating exploration of bodily autonomy and the lure of change. A top cast led by actresses Hannah Gross, Johanna Aurelia Rosin and Teele Kaljuvee-O'Brock sells it.
 
 
 
4K/UHD Release of the Week 
Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride 
(Warner Bros)
This enjoyable 2005 follow-up to Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, codirected by Burton with Mike Johnson, is another dazzling stop-motion animated feature cleverly visualizing the director’s darkly tongue-in-cheek themes, here following a young man about to be married who’s whisked away by the title character.
 
 
There’s ample mordant humor, decent thrills and a marvelously dreadful visual sense along with a terrific voice cast led by Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Emily Watson and Albert Finney. The film looks spectacular in 4K; there are several vintage featurettes and two new making-of featurettes. 
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week
The Beat That My Heart Skipped 
(Criterion)
In Jacques Audiard’s bracing remake of James Toback’s messy 1978 drama Fingers, small-time Parisian hood Thomas (a magnetic Roman Duris) tries resurrecting a lost musical career as a classical pianist. Unlike Toback, whose film never felt organic, just willfully contrived, Audiard makes the disparate parts—the scuzzy characters and their motivations alongside beautiful music making—snap together as perfectly as a Bach or Chopin piano piece.
 
 
The film looks grittily authentic on Blu; extras include a new Audiard interview, vintage interviews with cowriter Tonino Benacquista and composer Alexandre Desplat, 2005 Berlin Film Festival press conference, rehearsal footage and deleted scenes with Audiard’s commentary.
 
 
 
Gilbert & Sullivan—The Gondoliers 
(Opus Arte)
This terrifically mounted 2021 staging of one of the legendary musical duo’s characteristic works by the Scottish Opera works well thanks to Stuart Maunder persuasive direction, the colorful and witty costumes and sets, the superlative acting and singing by a large and distinguished cast, and the excellent music making by the Orchestra of the Scottish Opera and the Chorus of the Gondoliers under conductor Derek Clark’s baton.
 
 
Of course, it helps to be on the same musical wavelength as Gilbert & Sullivan for full appreciation—those who aren’t might think it’s much ado about not much. The hi-def video and audio are flawless.
 
 
 
Mieczysław Weinberg—The Idiot 
(Unitel)
Russian-Polish-Jewish composer Mieczysław Weinberg (1919-96) died before his musical renaissance began with his emotionally shattering Holocaust opera The Passenger, several productions of which were soon followed by dozens of recordings of his varied orchestral and chamber music. Although not as affecting as The Passenger, his operatic adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s disturbing The Idiot is a major accomplishment, as this 2024 Salzburg staging by director Krzysztof Warlikowski—imaginatively done in a modern setting—demonstrates.
 
 
For more than three hours, Weinberg’s powerful reimagining of a great writer’s painfully intimate study holds us in thrall, and the remarkable vocal performances of Bogdan Volkov, Ausrine Stundyte and Vladislav Sulimsky—heading a flawless cast—along with the Vienna Philharmonic (led by Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla) and Vienna State Opera Chorus (led by Pawel Marcowicz) provide more musical and dramatic dividends. There’s first-rate hi-def video and audio but unfortunately no contextualizing extras.

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