Ying Fang performs with the Orchestra of St. Luke's. Photo by Stephanie Berger.

 

At Stern Auditorium on the evening of Tuesday, February 27th, I had the extraordinary privilege to attend a magnificent concert version of Carl Orff’s exceedingly popular, astonishing cantata of 1936, Carmina Burana—which was presented as a part of Carnegie Hall’s current festival, “Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice”—performed by the superb musicians of the Orchestra of St. Luke’s—brilliantly conducted here by Tito Muñoz—along with both the excellent Westminster Symphonic Choir—directed by James Jordan—and the wonderful Young People’s Chorus of New York City, the Artistic Director of which is Francisco J. Núñez. (At Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall on the evening of Saturday, January 27th, Muñoz—who is the Virginia G. Piper Music Director of The Phoenix Symphony—led the Juilliard Orchestra in a splendid concert—previously reviewed here—that included Sergei Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 2 and Igor Stravinsky’s score for the ballet Petrushka.) The program also featured an outstanding slate of soloists with, above all, the lovely and amazing soprano and Metropolitan Opera star, Ying Fang, as well as tenor Nicholas Phan and baritone Norman Garrett.

 

In useful notes for the event, Ryan M. Prendergast provided some background on the work:

 

Orff’s source text was an edition of songs and poems from a 13th-century codex first discovered in the Bavarian monastery of Benediktbeuern in 1803. Its eventual published title, Carmina Burana, translates to “Songs of Beuern.” The individual poems date from the 11th and 12th centuries, with the majority written in Latin and a smaller number in vernacular German and French of the periods. While some named authors survive in the collection, many of the poems were written by anonymous Goliards, well-educated student clerics whose works often satirized the Church of Rome and who made liberal use of pagan symbols and imagery. The codex later entered the collection of the Bavarian royal family, and was edited for publication in 1847 by Royal Court and State Librarian Johann Andreas Schmeller. Orff came into possession of a second-hand copy of Schmeller’s edition in 1934. In Orff’s telling, the imagery of the opening text, “O Fortuna / velut luna / statu variabilis,” instantly transfixed him, and he began composition. With his friend and collaborator Michael Hoffmann, Orff sifted through the massive codex to find the poems that would best suit the “scenic cantata” he envisioned. There are no conventional story line or characters, but rather self-contained vignettes that create a world unto themselves.

 

He adds: “Orff’s Latin subtitle forCarmina Burana,‘profane songs for singers and choruses to be sung together with instruments and magical images,’ indicated a preference for the work to be fully staged” with dance. And further:

 

Orchestrally, the score of Carmina Burana relies upon a large ensemble with an enormous battery of percussion. The work contains 25 individual movements separated into four major sections and a prologue, “Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi” (“Fortune, Empress of the World”).

 

The thrilling, exclamatory, almost incomparably famous “O Fortuna” that opens the piece is followed by the more subdued “Fortunae plango vulnera” that completes the prologue, “Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi.” The first section, “Primo vere,”—described by the Encyclopaedia Britannica as consisting of “youthful, energetic dances”—begins with the quiet chorus “Veris laeta facies” and then the moving “Omnia sol temperat” for solo baritone. The celebratory “Ecce gratum” precedes a sub-section, “Uf dem anger,” with first, a captivating orchestral “Dance” and the exultant “Floret silva nobilis” which has aländler-like melody.The next choral song, “Chramer, Gip die varwe mir”—the first written in the German language to appear in the cantata—is also joyful and is succeeded by the waltz-like orchestral interlude, “Reie.” There then occurs a series of German choral passages, starting with the ebullient “Swaz hie gat umbe” that recapitulates after the subsequent “Chume, chum, geselle min,” which is suggestive of a siren-call. This part ends with the affirmative “Were diu werlt alle min” which begins with exciting fanfares.

 

The middle section, “In Taberna”—which, theBritannicasays, “evokes drunken feasting and debauchery”—opens with “Estuans interius”—for solo baritone—which has a spirit of protest, while the following “Olim lacus colueram” is eccentric with an almost sinister quality. Also peculiar is the “Ego sum abbas” which precedes the rhythmic, propulsive “In taberna quando sumus” that concludes the second part.

 

Of the third section, “Cour d’amours,” theBritannicastates that “courtship and love are the subject.” The first verse of its initial song, “Amor volat undique”—which is for solo soprano and children’s chorus—is hushed, while the second is plaintive, followed by a brief recapitulation of the first. The sorrowful “Dies, nox, et omnia” for solo baritone precedes one of the most lyrical songs, “Stetit puella,” for solo soprano. The subsequent “Circa mea pectora” for solo baritone and chorus has a self-pitying tone. About the next two songs, Prendergast writes:

 

“Si puer cum puellula” presents the baritone and solo members of the chorus acapella, extolling the delights of fleshly love. The full chorus returns in “Veni, veni, venias” in another roundelay of lust.

 

The reflective “In trutina” for solo soprano is succeeded by the “Tempus est iocundum”—for solo soprano, baritone, chorus and children’s chorus—with which merriment returns. The third part closes with the ecstatic “Dulcissime” for solo soprano.

 

An epilogue, “Blanziflor et Helena,” includes the exalting, triumphant “Ave Formosissima” for chorus and, finally, a return of the glorious “O Fortuna.”

 

The artists received an enthusiastic ovation.

 

At Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall, on the evening of Tuesday, March 19th, I had the pleasure of attending a wonderful concert featuring the New York Philharmonic effectively led here by the ensemble’s Conductor, Jaap van Zweden.

 

The program began marvelously with an excellent reading of Felix Mendelssohn’s extraordinary, evocative The Hebrides Overture, Op. 26, which is possibly the finest of the composer’s works. (The orchestra will perform his classic “Scottish” Symphony later in the week.)

 

An exceedingly impressive soloist in his New York Philharmonic subscription debut Conrad Tao, then entered the stage for a superior rendition—playing his own admirable cadenzas—of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s brilliant Piano Concerto No. 17 in G major, K.453, from 1784. The initial Allegro has a graceful opening that builds in intensity while remaining ebullient throughout. The movement becomes especially sparkling— although with a hint of deeper emotions—with the entry of the piano. This more serious undercurrent comes to the forefront as the music develops; the movement ends affirmatively.

 

The introductory measures of the ensuing Andante—another exceptionally beautiful Mozart slow movement—have a stately pace; with the appearance of the piano, the music acquires a greater solemnity which is of a reflective kind, but with contrasting passages conveying a subdued but melodious joyousness. After a powerful cadenza, the movement concludes gently.

 

The closing Allegretto recaptures the complexities of mood in the first movement; it is effervescent on the whole, especially in the exhilarating Presto finale that ends with a quiet force. An enthusiastic ovation elicited two rewarding encores from the pianist: first, his own enjoyable, highly virtuosic transcription of Art Tatum’s 1953 recording of Harold Arlen’s glorious song for the 1939 film, The Wizard of Oz, “Over the Rainbow,” with lyrics by Yip Harburg; and second, Maurice Ravel’s exquisite, enchanting and dazzling “Le jardin féerique,” from his celebrated piano suite, Ma mère l'Oye.

 

The second half of the event was at least equally memorable, consisting of a superb account of Ludwig van Beethoven’s magisterial Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67. About it, Robert Schumann wrote:

 

Let us be silent about this work! No matter how frequently heard, whether at home or in the concert hall, this symphony invariably wields its power over people of every age like those great phenomena of nature that fill us with fear and admiration at all times, no matter how frequently we may experience them.

 

The opening of the enormously famous, thrilling Allegro con brio is maximally suspenseful and a sense of urgency is sustained throughout the movement but there are leisurely passages of an almost pastoral quality. The Andante con moto that follows is often jubilant but with some questioning moments; incomparably elegant, it is nonetheless not without a certain playfulness. The subsequent Allegro begins somewhat mysteriously but more emphatic music quickly intrudes; in general, it has a darker tone than the movement that precedes it but much of it is exultant. Although propulsive, again there are bucolic interludes. The movement transitions dramatically to the enthralling, dynamic and triumphant finale, also markedAllegro,which concludes magnificently.

 

The artists again deservedly received abundant applause.

In-Theater/Streaming Releases of the Week 

Michael Keaton gives a sly performance as an aging hitman who’s just discovered he has a sort of fast-moving dementia; before he completely loses his facilities, he decides to help out his estranged son, who arrives on his doorstep bloodied and telling a wild story.

 

 

Director Keaton has helmed an effective contraption, with Gregory Poirier’s script doing double duty a cleverly constructed yarn and a psychological character study. It isn’t flawless, but it remains interesting until the final shot. There are also brief but memorable supporting bits by Marcia Gay Harden and Al Pacino.

 

 

 

Much Ado About Dying 

Simon Chambers’ moving and intensely personal documentary follows his eccentric Uncle David, whom Chambers chronicles for several years after he gets an email from David asking him to come over because he is “dying.” Chambers shows David as a lively, performative character who quotes Shakespeare speeches (King Lear is a special favorite) but remains riveting throughout.

 

 

It’s an often difficult watch, but it’s filled with humor and empathy that makes this positively life-affirming, despite the fact that we are watching an elderly man suffering greatly, at least physically, before dying. 

 

 

 

One Life 

Based on the true story of Nicolas Winton, a British stockbroker who, while in Czechoslovakia in 1938, just after the Nazis took over, help bring many Jewish children to safety in England, James Hawes’ drama is no Schindler’s List, but a low-key, unabashedly sentimental tale of goodness triumphing, at least a little, over evil.

 

 

The ending recreation of Winton discovering the great good that he’s done is genuinely touching, and it’s all enacted with intensity by Anthony Hopkins and Johnny Flynn as the elderly and younger Winton; the unsung actress Romola Garai as Doreen Warriner, a humanitarian who helped Winton; Helen Bonham Carter as Winton’s forceful mother, Babi; and the great Lena Olin as Winton’s wife Grete.

 

 

 

Remembering Gene Wilder

Ron Frank’s lovely but ineffably sad valentine to the beloved comic actor, who died of Alzheimer’s in 2016, makes for bittersweet but elevating viewing.

 

 

Letting Wilder himself narrate his own life story (thanks to an audiobook he recorded years earlier), Frank adroitly mixes film clips, vintage interviews and on-set tomfoolery with poignant talking-head reminiscences from many people in Wilder’s personal and professional life, including his widow, Karen; Richard Pryor’s daughter, Rain; writer Alan Zweibel; and, last but not least, Wilder’s partner in crime for two of their most memorable cinematic collaborations, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks.

 

 

 

4K/UHD Release of the Week 

I had thought that a musical version of Alice Walker’s classic novel—and, by extension, Steven Spielberg’s classic 1985 film adaptation—was unnecessary, although the Broadway staging I saw in 2015, starring Cynthia Erivo, at least allowed her to blow the roof of the theater.

 

 

But Blitz Bazawule’s movie adaptation of the stage musical is mainly arid, despite lively performances by Fantasia Barrino, Danielle Brooks, Taraji P. Henson, Colman Domingo and even Jon Batiste in a small role. But musically this Color Purple can’t hold a candle to Walker’s prose or Spielberg’s camera; dramatically, it hits all the beats but never feels organic or lived-in. The UHD transfer looks fantastic; extras include interviews and featurettes.

 

 

 

Blu-ray Release of the Week

Director Christian Carion has made a darker Driving Miss Daisy in this contrived but entertaining melodramatic vehicle about middle-aged Parisian cabbie Charles desperate for a good fare who picks up  Madeleine, a spry, ornery 92-year-old going to live in a home for the infirm and wants one last drive through her beloved Paris beforehand. Madeleine’s dramatically eventful life includes many flashbacks, which Carion handles adroitly if predictably.

 

 

Like Miss Daisy, Carion’s film is anchored by superb acting by Alice Isaaz is a winning and energetic young Madeleine who charmingly complements the brilliant performance of force of nature Line Renaud as old Madeleine as well as the always reliable Dany Boon who makes the one-dimensionally written Charles into a realistically crusty but sympathetic foil. There’s an excellent hi-def transfer; the lone extra is a Carion post-screening interview.

 

 

 

Rick and Morty—Complete 7th Season 

For seven seasons and 71 episodes, this nuttily gleeful animated series about mad scientist Rick and always supportive grandson Morty keeps building new levels of insanity, both visually and verbally. The latest 10-episode season was the first without voice work by co-creator Mark Roiland, dropped from the show after abuse allegations—later dismissed—surfaced against him.

 

 

But the lunacy is still there; among many guest voices are Hugh Jackman (as himself!), Liev Schreiber, Christina Hendricks and Ice-T.  It’s all colorfully dazzling on Blu-ray; extras include features Inside the Episodes, Directing Unmortricken, The Characters of Season 7 and Inside Season 7.

 

 

 

DVD Release of the Week

Japanese writer-director Yujiro Harumoto’s often perplexing but fascinating chamber drama closely looks at broadcast journalist Yuko (Kumi Takiuchi) who, while working on a story about the grieving families of children who committed suicide after being bullied, discovers that her father holds a dark secret that she must deal with.

 

 

Although the film clocks in at a lengthy 150 minutes, Harumoto sharply focuses on the moral dilemmas of Yuko, who is embodied with complexity and subtlety by Takiuchi. 

 

 

 

CD Release of the Week 

German composer Richard Strauss (1864-1949) did his best work for the voice, in both his operas and songs; and his Four Last Songs are the very pinnacle of his artistic achievement, a valedictory climax to a lifetime of writing beautifully, especially for the female voice. This compelling disc presents the song set twice—in the original orchestral version and the less frequently heard piano version.

 

 

Soprano Asmik Grigorian sounds radiant in both versions, the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France under conductor Mikko Franck providing tasteful accompaniment a la the final scene of Strauss’ final opera Capriccio. The version for piano (played exquisitely by Markus Hinterhäuser) finds Grigorian in a more intimate mode; if the orchestral version is ultimately preferable, Grigorian makes mighty cases for both.