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After its final subscription concerts the previous week, the New York Philharmonic played two additional programs that were a godsend to those of us having to wade through the usual Bach/Mozart/Beethoven.
The all-Henri Dutilleux concert at Avery Fisher Hall (65 St. Columbus Ave) on June 26, 2012, was grand enough; what followed at the Park Avenue Armory (643 Park Ave) on June 29-30 was a bombastic climax.
Philharmonic 360 was as intoxicating as the previous seasons’ ends of the Alan Gilbert era: Gyorgy Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre and Leos Janacek’s The Cunning Little Vixen.
The Dutilleux concert, in honor of the great French composer receiving the orchestra’s first Marie-Josee Kravis Prize for New Music -- which the 96-year-old master is selflessly sharing with three composers, Peter Eötvös, Anthony Cheung and Franck Krawczyk -- was the first time the orchestra performed a concert consisting entirely of his music, and it seems bets were hedged by enlisting Yo-Yo Ma to play Tout un monde lontain, the gorgeous cello concerto Dutilleux composed in 1970 and revised in 1988, in order to woo the crowds.
One could quibble with the selections: the orchestral coloring of Métaboles, while beautiful and mysterious, has already been heard recently at the Philharmonic, and Dutilleux’s String Quartet, Ainsi la nuit, while performed formidably by the Miro Quartet, had its intricacies swallowed up by the large hall.
Gilbert probably chose these works to use less rehearsal time: since the players are familiar with Métaboles (performed twice in the past five seasons), presumably only the Cello Concerto would need substantive rehearsal time, allowing more work on the 360 concert.
Even so, Dutilleux’s elegant, refined, astringent but not atonal music sounded amazing—and enduring. Too bad the audience was profoundly uncivilized: coughing, unwrapping, cell phone ringing and program rustling continued throughout the evening. I hope they’re not typical Yo-Yo Ma fans.
The better behaved Armory audience during Philharmonic 360 was obviously riveted by the dramatic presentation of odd orchestral configurations in music conceived for not only sound but space.
Aside from the Act I finale of Mozart’s Don Giovanni—which shed no light on the opera, and Michael Counts’s staging seemed a desperate attempt to use as much of the Armory’s magnificent Drill Hall as possible—the music was well-chosen for this particular space.
Difficult scores by Pierre Boulez and Karlheinz Stockhausen were the program’s lynchpins, and if their music is usually better seen than heard, here seeing and hearing it were one and the same.
The various instrumental groupings for Boulez’s Rituel in memoriam Bruno Maderna and Stockhausen’s Gruppen were as much fun to watch as to listen to the sounds swirling around the Armory from all angles. Ending the concert was Charles Ives’ majestic The Unanswered Question, with its ecstatic trumpet part soaring above the audience.
Gilbert, who conducted superbly, was greatly assisted by Matthias Pintscher and Magnus Lindberg for the complexities of Gruppen. No one will probably ever hear (or see) these works again, so the Armory concert was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and a perfect ending to the Philharmonic season (that's not counting this week’s Summertime Classics and next week’s Concerts in the Parks).
To learn more, go to: http://nyphil.org
Avery Fisher Hall
65 St. Columbus Ave
New York, NY 10024
Park Avenue Armory
643 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10065
Bullhead
The Invisible War
Directed by Kirby Dick
Opened June 22, 2012
Stella Days
Directed by Thaddeus O’Sullivan
Opened June 22, 2012; available on demand June 19
Collaborator
Written and directed by Martin Donovan
Opens July 6, 2012; available on demand June 20
One of the most important documentaries in years, The Invisible War powerfully gives voice to women in the U.S. military who were raped or sexually abused while serving, an outcome shockingly more possible than being shot by the enemy in Iraq or Afghanistan.
Despite our best and brightest women joining the armed forces due to patriotism or long family traditions, their lives have been unconscionably ruined by a strictly male-centered mentality that puts women under enormous added pressure just for being women. Being violated physically is just the beginning of the nightmare: what they endure afterward—if they decide to report the abuse, which many don’t for fear of reprisals—is as distressing emotionally as the rape was.
Director Kirby Dick—whose other valuable documentaries are This Film Is Not Yet Rated and Outrage—not only gets several women to recount their compelling but heartbreaking stories, showing what lies ahead for those still being abused, but also buttresses his argument with head-scratching statistics about how widespread the abuse is and how little the army has done to combat it. (Laughable examples of PSAs designed to raise awareness within the armed services do little but consolidate the “blame the victim” mentality still prevalent in wider society as well.)
The Invisible War lays bare how our otherwise estimable armed forces are tarnished by this horrific debasement of so many unfortunate victims (there are some males among them): in eye-opening interviews with senior members of the military both clued in and clueless, that disconnect remains, despite recent advances, post-screening for Defense Secretary Leon Panetta, to try and remedy some of the injustices done to those who make claims against fellow soldiers.
Stella Days is based on Michael Doorley’s memoir of rural Ireland in the 1950s when a country still heavily influenced by the Catholic Church is taking baby steps to modernize, despite vociferous opposition by conservative leaders to remain in the dark ages.
Into the breach steps Father Daniel Barry, a liberal-leaning priest who, with the help of new school teacher Tim, to open a small movie theater for a population that’s barely seen any. Leading the anti-movie charge is Brendan, an ultra-conservative zealot running for office, hoping to keep his constituency from entering the 20th century, even belatedly.
Although Stella Days is mainly a feel-good melodrama, director Thaddeus O’Sullivan keeps sentiment at bay by approaching the subject with humor, especially when showing the absurd convictions of Father Barry’s parishioners. However, although Father Barry is skeptical, he’s still a believer, and never does he or O’Sullivan mock such heartfelt sentiments.
With on-target performances by Martin Sheen as Father Barry and Stephen Rea as Brendan, Stella Days is worth spending time with.
Martin Donovan first came to attention in Hal Hartley’s romantic comedy Trust (1990), in which Donovan and the late, great Adrienne Shelley traded quips in Hartley’s arch but affecting classic. So it’s no surprise that Collaborator, Donovan’s first film as writer and director, borrows from Hartley in its deadpan study of two men thrown together by unlikely circumstances.
Donovan plays Robert Longfellow, a playwright on the downside of his career and his marriage, who returns to L.A. from New York City to visit his mother. He also rekindles an affair with Emma, an actress who starred in several of his plays, and runs into Gus, a shady ex-felon from the neighborhood he’s known since they were kids: the men drink beers and kick around old times, and when Gus pulls a gun on Robert as the police surround Robert’s mother’s home, he finds his messy personal life is shown to a riveted television audience.
As writer, Donovan has created intriguingly bizarre characters of the sort Hartley did, as well as tart dialogue between the mismatched men compensating for the contrived relationships between Robert and Emma (underplayed sweetly by Olivia Williams) and his wife Alice (stiffly played by ex-Hole bassist Melissa auf der Maur).
As director, Donovan leans too heavily on the men’s absurd situation, and the title’s double entendre is too literally spelled out in the men’s final confrontation. As actor, Donovan doesn’t stretch himself as the put-upon hero, while David Morse persuasively portrays a loser grasping at anything resembling a life preserver. The actors provide the movie’s true collaboration.
The Invisible War
Stella Days
Collaborator
Dmitri Shostakovich never finished his satirical opera Orango, only getting through the prologue. In Simon McBurney’s orchestration, it’s a daffy, derivative piece of fluff by one of the 20th century’s Soviet masters. The 30 minutes of music are rarely original but always fun to listen to.
Both Orango and a compelling account of Shostakovich’s massive Fourth Symphony—written in the mid-‘30s but not premiered until 1961—are performed by the L.A. Philharmonic under conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen.