the traveler's resource guide to festivals & films
a FestivalTravelNetwork.com site
part of Insider Media llc.
Suzanne Vega at Queens College |
Gerry Leonard (left) and Vega |
Photo by Claudio Papapietro
At Lincoln Center’s superb Alice Tully Hall—on two consecutive nights beginning Monday, September 16th—I had the privilege to attend two excellent concerts as part of the annual Juilliard Fall Festival.
The first event—which was especially impressive—featuring the Juilliard Orchestra under the brilliant direction of David Robertson, opened strongly with a world premiere of a wonderful new work commissioned by the ensemble: the stirring, beautifully orchestrated Awakening by Welsh composer Katie Jenkins, which is evocative of the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams—and even John Williams—and was superbly realized by these outstanding musicians. She provided the following note on it:
Awakening is a musical tapestry that weaves together the rich and historical sound world of Wales and the vibrant energy of New York City: the two places I have called home. Commissioned by The Juilliard School for the Juilliard Orchestra’s opening concert of 2024-25, this piece serves as a celebration of the excitement and anticipation of new beginnings.
Having grown up amidst the breathtaking landscapes of the South Wales Valleys, I drew on inspiration from the pastoral sounds of wildlife, the undulating hills, and the grandeur of ancient castles. These elements form the foundation of Awakening, bringing a sense of nostalgia and longing for the familiar. There are sections reminiscent of distant brass bands echoing across the countryside, interwoven with the flowing melodies evocative of village mining choirs singing hymns of solidarity and resilience. Yet, amidst these pastoral scenes, the piece pulsates with the infectious energy and dynamism of urban life. The unique feel of New York City is captured with fiery grooves, virtuosic solos, and the sudden shifts in textures.
Each section of the orchestra is prominently featured, contributing to the symphonic kaleidoscope that unfolds. Awakening is a celebration not only of Welsh culture and the vibrancy of New York City but also of the orchestra itself!
The composer joined the artists to receive the audience’s acclaim.
A remarkable soloist, Max Hammond, then entered the stage for a highly professional account of Arnold Schoenberg’s seldom played Piano Concerto, Op. 42, written in 1942, a work not entirely within my competence to confidently evaluate. Annotator Georgeanne Banker offered some useful commentary on its genesis:
After moving to Hollywood from the East Coast himself, [Oscar] Levant took up composition lessons with Schoenberg in the late 1930s, and the two became close colleagues. Later, in 1942, “After I had achieved a certain fame and notoriety, I revisited Schoenberg in California and I asked him if he would compose a slight piano piece for me,” Levant wrote. However, the project took a turn: “Suddenly this small piano piece burned feverishly in Schoenberg’s mind and he decided to write a piano concerto,” Levant wrote. “He sent me some early sketches and it is possible that in the main row of tones my name or initials were involved.” However, it was not meant to be: “frenzied” negotiations coupled with Levant’s hesitance to prepare a work of this scope led him to withdraw from the project.
The final commission was supported by another Schoenberg student (and the work’s dedicatee) Henry Clay Shriver, and the premiere was given in October 1944 by Leopold Stokowski and the NBC Symphony Orchestra with Schoenberg’s former student—and original Pierrot lunaire pianist— Eduard Steuermann at the keyboard.
The paradox of this concerto—an almost-tonal, almost-Romantic yet distinctly 12-tone and modernist work—has intrigued audiences since its first performance 80 years ago. “There is a program to it—a few words, only—but I do not know yet, whether I will add it; though you would like it,” Schoenberg wrote in an early letter to Levant. His sketch read: “Life was so easy; suddenly hatred broke out; a grave situation was created; but life goes on.”
Her description of the piece is unusually apposite:
Characterized by many as a Viennese waltz, the concerto opens with a lyrical Andante set in 3/8 time. The work’s strikingly expressive central tone row is introduced by the piano, with some instances of emphatic pitch repetition; the theme is soon accentuated by the soft velvet timbre of the clarinets and lower strings. Throughout its four elided movements, the concerto’s instrumentation is “delicate and scattered,” critic Virgil Thomson wrote after its premiere. “It sounds like chamber music for 100 players.” Following the apprehensive, rhythmic Molto Allegro, the Adagio is introduced by contemplative lines in the oboe and bassoon, soaring above lower textures. Urged on by muted brass, the piano brings us to a brief, powerful cadenza that echoes the concerto’s opening theme while exploring derivations of its tone rows. The energetic Giocoso Moderato vacillates from legato lyricism to rhythmic brilliance, with duple and triple rhythmic figurations ranging from the playfully martial to the agitatedly resolute.
The concerto opens moodily, becoming more fraught in the second movement, while the Adagio is more inward in character but becomes agonistic, leading to the cadenza, which has some forceful moments. The finale,despite its Giocoso marking, retains a more unsettling undercurrent and concludes abruptly.
The apotheosis of the evening, however, was its extraordinary second half, a mesmerizing rendition of Ludwig van Beethoven’s immortal, magnificent Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Op. 67, from 1808. About it, the celebrated author E.T.A. Hoffmann said: “How simple ... is the theme [that Beethoven] has made the basis of the whole work, but how marvelously all the subordinate themes and bridge passages relate themselves rhythmically to it, so that they continually serve to disclose more and more the character of the allegro indicated by the leading motive.” The incomparably famous, Allegro con brio initial movement opens as dramatically as is conceivable, with a tension sustained throughout, although it contains almost pastoral passages, and ends dynamically. The ensuing Andante con moto is graceful, melodious and partly bucolic in spirit but not without majesty and grandeur—it builds to a satisfying conclusion. The Scherzo that follows is often turbulent, even propulsive, with interludes of quiet. The Allegro finale is rousing, joyous, and exuberant and sustains a sheerly amazing momentum for most of its length although it is not without sudden, rhythmic contrasts; it closes emphatically. The musicians earned a deservedly enthusiastic ovation.
The second evening, which featured Juilliard415, the school’s distinguished ensemble devoted to historical performance with violinist Rachel Podger as its Director—in a program entitled “Baroque Indulgence”—was also rewarding. The event began memorably with Georg Philipp Telemann’s Ouverture Suite in E Minor from Musique de Table, 1er Production, TWV 55:e1, from 1733. The Ouverture proper is at first slow and stately but then jubilant. The dances that follow include an energetic Réjouissance, an elegant Loure, and a Passepied that is more imposing but with charming interludes, finishing with a cheerful Gigue and an ebullient Conclusion that has a brief, languorous episode. Compelling too was the Johann Sebastian Bach’s exquisite Concerto for Violin in A Minor, BWV 1041—with soloist Ela Kodžas—that closed the first half of the concert, and in which the opening, exciting Allegro moderato precedes a somber Andante and an effervescent Allegro assai finale.
The balance of the program began with another extraordinary piece: Georg Friedrich Händel’s Concerto Grosso in G Major, Op. 3, No. 3, with flautist Nuria Canales Rubio. The first movement has a serious, Larghetto, e staccato introduction before an engaging Allegro main section; an Andante that exudes a certain gravity and a dynamic Allegro finale succeed it. After this, Antonio Vivaldi’s delightful 1711 Concerto for Four Violins in E Minor, Op. 3, No. 4, was performed—Podger, Jimena Burga Lopera, Lara Mladjen, and Annemarie Schubert were the featured players—with four movements that were alternately solemn and sparkling. A remarkable discovery was the event’s final composition: Antonin Reichenauer’s Suite in B-flat Major, written around the 1720s. The Overture that begins the work has a slow, regal introduction, while its main body is exuberant. Exhilarating too is the Bourrée that follows, but more subdued is the next dance, a Menuet. Next are a lyrical Adagio, a mellifluous Polonaise and, at last, a lilting Allegro. The audience responded with an appreciative ovation.
Photo by Chris Lee
At Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall, on the evening of Saturday, October 5th, I had the great pleasure to attend a superb concert presented by the the New York Philharmonic, under the confident direction of the eminent guest conductor, Manfred Honeck.
The program began strongly with an impressive reading of Ludwig van Beethoven’s magnificent Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92. The Vivace, initial movement opens slowly and quietly—although not without intimations of drama—with a Poco sostenuto introduction; the movement’s main body, however, is propulsive, exultant and triumphant, if with some subdued passages, and with anticipations of Felix Mendelssohn. The especially celebrated Allegretto that follows has a majestic quality that prefigures the first movement of Franz Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony; it becomes more animated and fugue-like before its gentler conclusion. The ensuing, sometimes rambunctious Presto is energetic, even ebullient, with a Trio that is statelier and more grand in character; the movement closes abruptly and unexpectedly. The exuberant, Allegro con brio finale sustains an astonishing momentum, with strikingly contrasting softer sections.
The second half of the event was comparable in power: a masterly rendition of the extraordinary Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15 of Johannes Brahms—from 1858—expertly performed by the brilliant virtuoso, Víkingur Ólafsson. The Maestoso first movement begins extremely dramatically, but for all its impassioned turbulence, the music also often has a moody inwardness. The succeeding Adagio—to my mind, the most exquisite of the work’s movements—is even more introspective and lyrical, while the expressive, dynamic Rondo finale, marked Allegro non troppo, is imbued with an intense Romanticism. Enthusiastic applause elicited an amazingly beautiful encore from the soloist: Johann Sebastian Bach’s E minor Prelude, BWV 855, here arranged for piano in B minor by Alexander Siloti—Ólafsson has recorded this piece in an excellent album devoted to music of the composer.
I look forward to what promises to be a wonderful season for the ensemble.
Robert Downey Jr. & Brittany Bellizeare in "McNeal". Photo by Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman
At Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theater, on the evening of Saturday, September 30th, I had the privilege of attending a preview performance of McNeal, the latest play—about an American novelist that wins the Nobel Prize for Literature—by the outstanding playwright, Ayad Akhtar, starring Robert Downey Jr. and directed by Bartlett Sher.
Akhtar first drew my attention with his fine, second produced play, Lincoln Center Theater’s The Who & The What which premiered in 2014 and is informed by the author’s Muslim background. This featured too in the even more remarkable and provocative Disgraced, which premiered at LCT in 2012 and was restaged on Broadway in 2015. Another LCT production, Junk from 2017 was just as topical and even more dazzling. McNeal, which addresses sexual politics, as did Disgraced, seems to be a new departure for the writer in its narrative ambiguity, with dream, hallucination and fantasy interlaced with contemporary reality.
Akhtar’s drama is effectively orchestrated by Sher, who first became prominent in New York with LCT’s celebrated—if to my mind problematic—2008 production of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein’s South Pacific, which had a stellar cast that included Paulo Szot, Kelli O’Hara and Matthew Morrison—he did not succeed in overcoming the flaws in that musical’s book even as it was a vivid theatrical experience for its incredible singers. Sher’s commercial and critical success led to an invitation by Peter Gelb to direct for the Metropolitan Opera although I was ambivalent about his stagings of The Barber of Seville, Tales of Hoffmann, and Le Comte Ory, the pleasures of all of which nonetheless transcended failures of conception. I was more impressed by his realization of Nico Muhly’s Two Boys in 2013 and was enthusiastic about LCT’s marvelous production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The King and I in 2015 starring O’Hara and Ken Watanabe. Also delightful—apart from an awkward if easily overlooked ending—was the 2018 revival of Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe’s My Fair Lady with Harry Hadden-Paton and Laura Benanti.
Downey, still exceptionally handsome as he approaches sixty, has been one of the most prominent stars in Hollywood since the success of the Iron Man films. My appreciation of him began with Robert Altman’s Short Cuts from 1993. He was also memorable in James Toback’s underrated Two Girls and a Guy from 1997–he had previously worked with the director in The Pick-up Artist—and appeared in such distinguished movies as Altman’s The Gingerbread Man from 1998 and Curtis Hanson’s Wonder Boys from 2000. Especially compelling was his turn in David Fincher’s amazing Zodiac from 2007. His work in Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer from last year seems to me his crowning achievement as an actor but his ultimately moving performance in McNeal is nonetheless something of a tour de force—his likability and charisma create a rewarding dialectical tension with the apparent moral turpitude of his character. He is ably supported by a uniformly fine secondary cast including Andrea Martin—who was notable in James Lapine’s persuasive adaptation of Moss Hart’s Act One at LCT in 2014–along with relative unknowns Brittany Bellizeare, Rafi Gavron, Melora Hardin, Ruthie Ann Miles and Saisha Talwar. (Bellizeare is particularly effective in one of the most interesting roles in the play and her long scene with Downey is probably its strongest.) Among the technical credits, the relatively minimal sets by Michael Yeargan and Jake Barton and the lighting by Donald Holder are especially striking, while Barton’s video projections are simply superb.