Santtu-Matias Rouvali conducts the NY Philharmonic. Photo by Chris Lee.

 

A strong season of orchestral music continued with three recent subscription concerts in February presented by the New York Philharmonic at Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall.

 

The first was the matinee on Friday, the 2nd, under the exemplary direction of Gianandrea Noseda who also admirably led the excellent National Symphony Orchestra in a superb program—reviewed here—including Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony at Stern Auditorium on Monday, February 12th, as part of Carnegie Hall’s current festival, “Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice.” The event began memorably with a very good performance of the Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 1786 concert aria,Ch’io mi scordi di te? ... Non temer, amato bene,sungby the wonderful soprano, Golda Schultz. The soloist Francesco Piemontesi, in his debut with the ensemble, then joined the musicians to elegantly play Mozart’s enchanting Piano Concerto No. 25 in C major, K.503, written the same year. According to James M. Keller, in his note on the program, “The composer Olivier Messiaen, in his essays on Mozart’s concertos, remarked [ . . . ] that ‘the first movement is without a doubt the most finely wrought, the most perfect of all the first movements of Mozart’s concertos.’”

 

The concert concluded marvelously with a superlative rendition of Gustav Mahler’s magnificent Symphony No. 4, featuring a fabulous Schultz in the closing movement, singling “Das himmlische Leben” from the famous anthology that inspired much of the composer’s early work, Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Conductor Bruno Walter had this to say about the piece:

 

Dream-like and unreal, indeed, is the atmosphere of the work — a mysterious smile and a strange humor cover the solemnity which so clearly had been manifested in the Third. In the fairy-tale of the Fourth everything is floating and unburdened which, in his former works, had been mighty and pathetic — the mellow voice of an angel confirms what, in the Second and Third, a prophet had foreseen and pronounced in loud accents. The blissful feeling of exaltation and freedom from the world communicates itself to the character of the music — but, in contrast to the Third, from afar, as it were. ... The first movement and the “Heavenly Life” are dominated by a droll humor which is in strange contrast to the beatific mood forming the keynote of the work. The scherzo is a sort of uncanny fairy-tale episode. Its demoniac violin solo and the graceful trio form an interesting counterpart to the other sections of the symphony without abandoning the character of lightness and mystery. Referring to the profound quiet and clear beauty of the andante [sic], Mahler said to me that they were caused by his vision of one of the church sepulchers showing the recumbent stone image of the deceased with the arms crossed in eternal sleep. The poem whose setting to music forms the last movement depicts in words the atmosphere out of which the music of the Fourth grew. The childlike joys which it portrays are symbolic of heavenly bliss, and only when, at the very end, music is proclaimed the sublimest of joys is the humorous character gently changed into one of exalted solemnity.

 

The second concert, on the night of Saturday, the 10th, was led with confidence by the Finnish conductor, Santtu-Matias Rouvali, beginning with an outstanding realization of Leonard Bernstein’s significant Serenade (after Plato’s Symposium) for Violin, String Orchestra, Harp, and Percussion, with the stellar Esther Yoo as soloist, also in her Philharmonic debut. (It is the basis of a powerful ballet by Alexei Ratmansky.) Especially beautiful are the fourth movement—an Adagio entitled “Agathon”—and the jazzy finale, “Socrates: Alcibiades.” The second half of the evening was even more impressive, a stunning version of Richard Strauss’s incredible An Alpine Symphony. About it, the composer recorded in his diary in 1911:

 

It is clear to me that the German nation will achieve new creative energy only by liberating itself from Christianity. ... I shall call my alpine symphony:Der Antichrist,since it represents: moral purification through one’s own strength, liberation through work, worship of eternal, magnificent nature.

 

Rouvali returned to rewardingly conduct the third concert—on the night of Saturday, the 17th—which opened with a laudable account of Louise Farrenc’s infrequently heard, classicizing, and remarkable Overture No, 2 in E-flat major, Op. 24, from 1834, and which after a slow, solemn introduction, becomes sprightly but with some suspenseful moments, finishing triumphantly. An extraordinary pianist, the winner of the 2021 International Chopin Piano Competition, Bruce Liu, who also was debuting with this orchestra—at Carnegie Hall last year on the evening of Friday, May 19th, I had the pleasure as well of attending (and reviewing here) his fine New York recital debut—entered the stage for a satisfying performance of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s celebrated Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. The twelfth variation was especially lovely as was the incomparable, Romantic eighteenth. Enthusiastic applause elicited two exquisite encores from the soloist: first, Frédéric Chopin’s famous Waltz No. 6, in D-flat major, Op. 61, No. 1 (“Minute” Waltz) and then Jean-Philippe Rameau’s Les Tendres Plaintes (Tender Complaints) from Suite No. 3 for Harpsichord, the latter of which he has recorded.

 

The program ended enjoyably with an accomplished reading of Antonín Dvořák’s estimable Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 7. The distinguished critic, Donald Francis Tovey, commented on it as follows:

 

I have no hesitation in setting Dvořák’s [Seventh] Symphony along with the C major Symphony of Schubert and the four symphonies of Brahms, as among the greatest and purest examples in this art-form since Beethoven. There should be no difficulty at this time of day in recognizing its greatness. It has none of the weaknesses of form which so often spoil Dvořák’s best work, except for a certain stiffness of movement in the finale, a stiffness which is not beyond concealing by means of such freedom of tempo as the composer would certainly approve. There were three obstacles to the appreciation of this symphony when it was published in 1885. First, it is powerfully tragic. Secondly, the orthodox critics and the average musician were, as always with new works, very anxious to prove that they were right and the composer was wrong, whenever the composer produced a long sentence which could not be easily phrased at sight. ... The third obstacle to the understanding of this symphony is intellectually trivial, but practically the most serious of all. The general effect of its climaxes is somewhat shrill. ... His scores are almost as full of difficult problems of balance as Beethoven’s. ... These great works of the middle of Dvořák’s career demand and repay the study one expects to give to the most difficult classical masterpieces; but the composer has acquired the reputation of being masterly only in a few popular works of a somewhat lower order. It is time that this injustice should be rectified.

 

The opening, Allegro maestosomovement begins dramatically—even portentously—with a seriousness sustained throughout, despite some exultant and pastoral passages; it closes quietly and soberly. The Poco adagio that succeeds this is largely graceful but with turbulent interludes and concludes softly. The third movement is dancelike and ebullient—with a more reflective middle section that partly has a bucolic character—finishing peacefully, and the last movement, anAllegro,begins moodily but somehow reaches an affirmative ending.

 

 

In a perceptive program note for his new play The Ally, Itamar Moses describes his feelings as a “left-wing, American Jew with Israeli-immigrant parents” when tackling important current issues. He admits that he is unafraid to say certain things, but when it came to more fraught subjects, he “didn’t know where to begin because what I had to say was too confused, too contradictory, too raw.”

 

Such honesty is present on every page of The Ally, which is also confused, contradictory and raw in its story of Asaf, a left-wing, American Jew with Israeli-immigrant parents who is not a playwright but a university professor. After he agrees to sign a petition blaming the local police for the death of a young black man, other students convince him to advise their nonpartisan group to host a controversial anti-Israeli speaker on campus. He becomes the center of a storm where he is accused of being anti-Palestinian, anti-Israeli and a white supremacist.

 

Moses incisively paints Asaf as the face of the inherent contradictions in a strain of American liberalism: he wants to get involved but doesn’t really stick his neck out while worrying about hurting the very people he hopes to help. But Moses stacks the deck dramatically (if almost surely purposely): Asaf is married to Gwen, who’s Asian; his ex-girlfriend Nakia is not only Black but author of the petition that starts Asaf’s troubles since it also uses the term “genocide” in reference to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; and Baron, the student who first asks Asaf to sign that petition, is also Black and the cousin of the cops’ victim.

 

These characters are joined by pivotal supporting roles—the students who ask Asaf to sponsor their new organization, the Palestinian Farid and the liberal Jew Rachel; and Reuven, a right-wing Jewish student who berates Asaf for his weak-kneed liberalism—who form the core arguments of The Ally.  

 

Most of the play’s scenes show Asaf with one or more of these characters, their arguments constantly colliding. It’s often thrilling to watch, as Moses’ dialogue has real bite and never condescends, while director Lila Neugebauer astutely keeps the focus on the interactions as well as the words. Take an early conversation between Asaf and Gwen as he becomes more reluctant about signing the petition:

 

 

After awhile, these discussions, however elegantly written and performed, start to sound like haranguing, like reading a particularly densely written op-ed or even the rare closely argued comment on Facebook. That’s all part of Moses’ point about responding to urgent issues, but even the two tensest scenes come off as strident and singleminded, detracting from their power: Farid’s moving climactic Act 2 speech describing his West Bank family’s hurtful losses loss and, below, Reuven’s forceful Act 1-ending explanation for why Asaf has been duped.

 

 

Yet despite its built-in limitations as living, breathing drama, The Ally remains an intelligent two hours in the theater, its superb cast anchored by Josh Radnor’s formidable Asaf. As the center of all the arguments and as Moses’ stand-in, Radnor gives a beautifully shaded portrayal that humanely embodies the raw contradictions and confusions that make up the playwright’s stalwart liberalism. 

4K/UHD Releases of the Week 

In this colorful but pretty soulless prequel, Timothee Chalamet makes a charming young Willy Wonka who’s surrounded by a bunch of supporting characters who are less silly sidekicks than major annoyances—actors like Olivia Colman, High Grant (as a sullen Oompa Loompa!), Sally Hawkins and Rowan Atkinson are all made forgettable by Paul King’s mediocre direction.

 

 

There’s garishness and bright colors galore, but the songs try too hard to match those from the original Gene Wilder classic (a couple of those, of course, return) and Chalamet, for all his energy, can only do so much. But since this was a huge hit, it will certainly generate more prequel sequels. The film looks ravishing in UHD; extras include several making-of featurettes.

 

 

 

Migration 

Director Benjamin Renner and writer Mike White have made a cute cartoon fable about a family of birds who migrate from New England to Jamaica with a pit stop in Manhattan along the way.

 

 

The animation is impressive, the jokiness and sappiness both land in equal measure, and the large voice cast—including Kumail Nanjiani, Elizabeth Banks, Keegan-Michael Key, Awkwafina and Danny DeVito—makes the most of the snappy dialogue, which might be enough for most families, and especially parents. It looks terrific on UHD; extras are making-of featurettes.

 

 

 

In-Theater/Streaming Release of the Week 

In his latest insufferably smug feature, Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos has freely adapted Scottish author Alasdair Gray’s 1992 novel, a Candide-like journey from innocence to adulthood for a woman who has been reanimated by a lunatic Dr. Frankenstein-ish scientist. In Lanthimos’ hands, however, Gray’s sharp satire has been reanimated so crudely and ham-fistedly that its 140 minutes drag on like 140 hours. It’s set in a steampunk version of Europe and, although the sets and costumes are initially intriguing, soon rigor mortis sets in, and we’re left with Lanthimos’ gregariously ugly visuals: he returns again and again to fisheye-lens shots like a baby playing with his favorite rattle.

 

 

Lead actors Emma Stone and Mark Ruffalo give scandalously broad performances that should be shunned instead of showered with awards. Crazily enough, Willem Dafoe, never known for his subtlety, is the least obnoxious performer here, which is a win of sorts, I guess.

 

 

 

Blu-ray Releases of the Week

In this weirdly compelling fantasy, Dr. Cheon makes his living performing fake exorcisms online takes on the case of a possessed young girl: and lo and behold, all his beliefs—and disbeliefs—about the spirit world come into question.

 

 

First-time director Kim Seong-sik has fun conjuring the mysterious goings-on that affect his protagonist, and the special effects complement, rather than overwhelm, the supernatural storyline. There’s an excellent hi-def transfer.

 

 

 

The Moon 

After the first South Korean mission to the moon goes spectacularly wrong, a second mission also malfunctions, leaving one brave astronaut stranded in space while a disgraced mission-control director is brought in to try and salvage the nation’s lunar dreams in director Kim Yong-hwa’s far-fetched but simplemindedly entertaining sci-fi epic.

 

 

It ends as a sentimental paean to Korean ingenuity—high (or low) lighted by a bunch of kids worshiping the spaceman—but before that Kim keeps losing focus by intercutting between the continuous (anti)climaxes in space and the predictably worried reactions of those on earth. It all looks impressive on Blu-ray; the lone extra is a making-of featurette.

 

 

 

CD Release of the Week

Two youthful works by English composer Benjamin Britten (1913-76) make up this superb new recording, but “youthful” doesn’t mean “immature”—on the contrary, Britten’s Violin Concerto, written when he was 26, is one of his masterpieces, a vigorous and incisive workout for the instrument; soloist Baiba Skride is more than up to the task throughout.

 

 

Skride also deftly plays the violin part in the Double Concerto, which Britten wrote when he was 19. Although not as memorable as the later Violin Concerto, it’s still a singularly attractive work, and Ivan Vukčević is an inspired partner on the viola. Marin Alsop leads the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra in perfect accompaniment for both works.