Off-Broadway Review—Leo McGann’s “The Honey Trap” at the Irish Rep

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Thursday, 06 November 2025 19:28

Written by Kevin Filipski

Mathis and Hayden in The Honey Trap (photo: Carol Rosegg)

New York Philharmonic Perform Innocente Carreño

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Wednesday, 05 November 2025 15:32

Written by Jack Angstreich

Diego Matheuz conducts the New York Philharmonic. Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s excellent David Geffen Hall, on the evening of Saturday, October 25th, I had the privilege to attend an outstanding concert presented by the New York Philharmonic, under the extremely impressive direction of Diego Matheuz, whose subscription debut with the ensemble was with these performances.

The event started brilliantly with a sterling realization of Innocente Carreño’s marvelous, seldom played Margariteña, glosa sinfónica, from 1954. According to notes on the program by John Henken, “The work’s title derives from Margarita, an island off the coast of Venezuela, east of Caracas,” the composer’s birthplace. He adds that “Solo horn opens the work, with a motif that introduces the popular song Margarita es una lágrima”:

Margarita es una lágrima, 
que un querubín derramó
y al caer en hondo piélago 
en perla se convirtió.

Margarita is a tear drop 
That a cherubim shed, 
And upon falling into the deep sea 
It changed into a pearl.

He continues: “The piece quotes several other popular and traditional songs, using Margarita es una lágrima in different guises as a recurring reference point, including a powerful climax. One of these songs is Los Tiguitiguitos (The Little Tigers).” The notes report that: “Other traditional material Carreño uses includes a religious song sung at wakes and funerals and an Afro-Venezuelan social song (Canto del Pilón, a pilón being a small gift or free bonus on a deal).” Margariteña, glosa sinfónica is mysterious at first, and then more exultant, ushering in more music in an affirmative register; it closes triumphantly.

Also rewarding was Erich Korngold’s melodious Concerto in D major for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 35, from 1945, admirably played here by concertmaster Frank Huang—it contains much lovely music. In notes for the program, James M. Keller comments:

Listening to his Violin Concerto, one may hear echoes of familiar film music. Indeed, most of its themes are drawn from Korngold's film scores: in the first movement, from Another Dawn (1937) and Juarez (1939); in the second, from Anthony Adverse (1936, though the movement's misterioso middle section is original to the concerto); in the mercurial finale, from The Prince and the Pauper (1937).

The first, Moderato nobile movement begins lyrically and Romantically with a lush primary theme and concludes forcefully and joyfully; the cadenza that follows the initial development is surprisingly spiky—at moments, the music is strongly reminiscent of that of Richard Strauss. The opening of the ensuing Romance is even more song-like in character, although much of the movement has a wandering, almost ruminative quality; it closes gently. The Finale, marked Allegro assai vivace, starts dynamically and cheerfully and ends spiritedly—much of the first section has a dance-like, even galloping, rhythm.

The second half of the evening was even more memorable: a thrilling account of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s magnificent Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64, from 1888. In a letter from that year to his benefactor, Nadezhda von Meck, the composer wrote the following about the work: 

Having played my Symphony twice in Petersburg and once in Prague, I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent in it, some over-exaggerated color, some insincerity of fabrication which the public instinctively recognizes. It was clear to me that the applause and ovations referred not to this but to other works of mine, and that the Symphony itself will never please the public.

Elsewhere he said:

the organic sequence fails, and a skillful join has to be made… . I cannot complain of lack of inventive power, but I have always suffered from want of skill in the management of form. 

The Andante introduction to the initial movement is somewhat lugubrious, even mournful, with its “motto theme” that recurs throughout the piece, while the main body of the movement, marked Allegro con anima, becomes quite impassioned, although it is not without reflective passages—at times, maybe surprisingly, one can discern anticipations of some of the symphonic music of Jean Sibelius. Toward the movement’s finish, music with a driving rhythm abruptly engenders a quiet close. The second movement, with a tempo of Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza, starts softly before stating a gorgeous, radiant, Romantic theme—some of the composer’s most exquisite music may be found here. Although some of the movement has an elegiac ethos, it ultimately evinces a compelling, if not unchallenged, optimism; it concludes on a subdued note.

The succeeding Valse, marked Allegro moderato, is imbued with immense charm—some of it has a very playful character but with more serious interludes—and it ends emphatically, if somewhat unexpectedly. The Andante maestoso introduction to the Finale, is solemn, if majestic; the main body of the movement conveys a sense of exhilaration, even of extravagant exuberance, despite some more relaxed but still delightful episodes—it closes in a blaze of glory.

Deservedly, the artists received an enthusiastic ovation.

Estonian Festival Orchestra Perform at Carnegie Hall

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Tuesday, 04 November 2025 15:38

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Fadi Kheir

At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Thursday, October 23rd, I had the privilege to attend a superb concert presented by Carnegie Hall, devoted to the music of Arvo Pärt, and featuring the extraordinary Estonian Festival Orchestra, under the expert direction of Paavo Järvi.

The event began strongly with a sterling realization of one of the composer’s most popular and beautiful works, Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten, originally written in 1977 and revised in 1980–it very slowly builds to a kind of apotheosis. This was followed by Perpetuum mobile from 1963, a surprisingly rewarding piece from Pärt’s seldom encountered pre-minimalist, serialist phase—its structuring principle of an extended crescendo provides an unexpected anticipation of that of Cantus, although the older piece attains a more shattering climax. 

The next work, La Sindone, originally composed in 2005 and then revised in 2022, was also remarkable—as well as mysterious and transcendent in effect, like many of the pieces in the concert. It is, according to the program notes by Peter Bouteneff, “a musical reflection on the theme of the Shroud (Sindone in Italian) of Turin.” The first half of the evening closed with the powerful Adam’s Lament from 2009, which here featured the marvelous Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, directed by Tõnu Kaljuste. (It is set to a text—a “meditation on Adam,” according to the annotator—by the Russian Orthodox St. Silouan the Athonite.)

The second half of the event was also outstanding, starting with the haunting, very famous Tabula rasa from 1977, featuring the violinists Hans Christian Aavik and the celebrated Midori, as well as the eminent composer Nico Muhly on prepared piano. The first movement, Ludus, is one of increasing intensity, while the second, Silentium, is more purely meditative and contrastingly structured as a diminuendo. Enthusiastic applause elicited a beautiful encore from the violinists and the ensemble: Pärt’s Passacaglia.

The brilliant Fratres, which was played immediately after, is another one of Pärt’s most familiar pieces, while the succeeding Swansong from 2013 is according to the annotator, an “orchestral setting of an earlier sung composition (Littlemore Tractus, 2000),” which is based on a prayer by Cardinal John Henry Newman. The program proper closed forcefully with its most challenging work, the often raucous Credo from 1968, which also featured the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, Trinity Choir, and Muhly on piano; Bouteneff records that, “The chords of Bach’s Prelude in C Major open the composition, and they return in different forms.” A standing ovation drew forth another marvelous encore, Pärt’s Estonian Lullaby, which proved to be the most charming piece of this memorable evening.