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Film and the Arts

Shostakovich & More with The New York Philharmonic

Photo by Brandon Patoc

At Lincoln Center’s marvelous David Geffen Hall, on the night of Saturday, February 22nd, I had the great pleasure to attend a superb New York Philharmonic concert—continuing an excellent season—brilliantly led by the extraordinary Finnish conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali.

The event started fabulously with a dazzling account of three delightful selections from the orchestral Suite drawn from Dmitri Shostakovich’s Moscow, Cheryomushki, describedin the fine notes for the program by Christopher H. Gibbs—who is “James H. Ottaway Jr. Professor of Music at Bard College and the co-author, with Richard Taruskin, of The Oxford History of Western Music, College Edition—as “an operetta about perennial hous-ing shortages in the Soviet capital.” He adds:

It takes place in the so-called Bird Cherry Tree district, southwest of Moscow, where the government's response to the crisis was to construct high-rise apartment complexes. The satirical operetta tells the story of a group of prospective young tenants seeking places in the newly subsidized housing and of their skirmishes with corrupt bureaucrats.   

Shostakovich composed the three-act work in 1957–58 to a libretto by the popular humorists Vladimir Mass and Mikhaíl Chervinsky, and it was premiered in January 1959 at the Moscow Operetta Theatre.

He says further that, “In 1997 Andrew Cornall, a producer and record executive then at Decca, crafted a four-movement suite, of which we hear the first three tonight.” In an article for Soviet Music, Shostakovich wrote:

The composition of an operetta is something new for me. Moscow, Cheryomushki is my first and, I hope, not my last experience in this appealing genre. I worked on it with great enthusiasm and lively interest. I think that what should result from our collaborative efforts. ... should be a cheery, upbeat show. ... There is lyricism in it, and “gags,” assorted interludes, dances, and even an entire ballet scene. Parodistic elements are suggested at times in the musical design, the quotation of popular motives from the not-too-distant past, and even from several songs by Soviet authors.

The initial selection, A Spin through Moscow, is effervescent even in its quieter moments, while the second, the exquisite Waltz, is exceedingly charming, with a more romantic character. Finally, Dances, which begins with a polka, is humorous, irrepressible and buoyant.

An outstanding soloist, Seong-Jin Cho, then entered the stage for an amazing performance of Sergei Prokofiev’s terrific Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 16. In his Soviet Diary of 1927, the composer recorded that, “The charges of surface brilliance and certain ‘soccer-player' tendencies in the First Concerto induced me to strive for greater depth in the Second.” The Andantino introduction to the first movement is moody, slightly eccentric and somewhat mysterious; the music becomes more agitated in the highly virtuosic Allegretto section—it features an astonishing cadenza and ends softly. The very brief Scherzo that follows, marked Vivace, is breathless, propulsive and playful in spirit. The ensuing, forceful Intermezzo—its tempo is Allegro moderato—has an almost sinister quality for much of its length, with some reflective passages, but is nonetheless seductive in its rhythms and closes gently, if abruptly. The Finale, marked Allegro tempestoso, is turbulent but dazzling, although again with subdued, meditative interludes; it builds in intensity to a stunning, sudden conclusion. Enthusiastic applause elicited an enchanting encore from Cho: the wonderful second—Menuet—movement of Maurice Ravel’s Sonatine.

The second half of the evening was also memorable: an awesome realization of Shostakovich’s seldom played, powerful, and allusive Symphony No. 15 in A major, Op. 141, from 1971, his last. The opening Allegretto—which jokingly quotes from the famous overture from the opera, William Tell—is quirky, ludic, bustling and energetic; it finishes unexpectedly. Gibbs says about the composer: “He stated that the first movement ‘describes childhood — just a toyshop, with a cloudless sky above,’ and recalled that Rossini's overture was one of his earliest musical memories.” The succeeding, unusual , lugubrious Adagio begins with a brass chorale and continues, according to Gibbs, “with a series of 12-note melodies for solo cello”; it acquires increasing urgency but with subdued episodes and ends in a hushed manner. Next, the short, Allegretto scherzo is burlesque in sensibility—it too closes surprisingly. Gibbs reports that:

The finale opens with the “Fate” brass quotation from Wagner's Ring alternating with a solo timpani pattern from Siegfried's Funeral March in Götterdämmerung

This segues into a three-note string pizzicato associated with the “in memorial” section of Shostakovich's own Symphony No. 11, and then to the violins playing the first three notes of Wagner's Tristan und Isolde [ . . . . ]

A very beautiful waltz references Mikhail Glinka’s song, “Do not tempt me needlessly.” Much of the movement is quite solemn and it grows more imposing as it progresses but ends almost ethereally, recalling according to Gibbs, “the conclusion of his suppressed Fourth Symphony.”

The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.

February '25 Digital Week III

In-Theater Release of the Week 
Parthenope 
(A24)
Italian director Paolo Sorrentino returns with an exploration of youthful beauty in the form of a beautiful young woman named after a Greek siren, who turns heads—among other things—in her hometown of Naples (aka Parthenope). Celeste Dalla Porta is exquisitely gorgeous; whether she can act is immaterial, since Parthenope is a symbol for whatever the men who ogle her—even her beloved brother and an old, obese priest—want her to be. If the shots of males leering were cut, the movie would probably be an hour shorter. Visually, Sorrentino and cinematographer Daria D’Antonio overload on sumptuousness, but dramatically and thematically it’s trifling.
 
 
Sorrentino even brings in Gary Oldman to ham it up mercilessly as drunk novelist John Cheever, whose writings Parthenope happens to adore. Meshing religion and sex is Sorrentino’s prime subject, but even Dalla Porta’s great beauty palls after awhile, and the final shots of just-retired anthropology professor Parthenope (Stefania Sandrelli) watching a celebratory float go by make as little sense as the rest of this long perfume ad—even a 30-second commercial would have more depth.
 
 
 
Streaming Release of the Week
Nosferatu 
(Focus Features)
Writer-director Robert Eggers’ latest genre exercise is in many ways his most enervating yet—his unnecessary remake of the old and moldy Dracula/Nosferatu films is overloaded with hysterically overwrought performances; moody but hammy camerawork; more metaphorical packs of rats and shadows than one would expect even from a nervous student film; and a self-indulgent, slow pace that drags this flimsy tale to a torturous running time of 135 minutes.
 
 
Even Willem Dafoe, often an amusing overacter, seems flustered by his ridiculous character and dialogue; poor Lily-Rose Depp looks elegant but remains relentlessly dour, while Nicholas Hoult is unable to fashion a real character out of disparate fragments. As for the vampire himself, Bill Skarsgård gives a performance that grows more risible as the film continues.
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week 
Last Summer 
(Janus Contemporaries)
French provocateur Catherine Breillat hadn’t made a film in about a decade following her stroke, but her long-awaited return doesn’t disappoint, as she adapts the Dutch film Queen of Hearts to dissect the relationship—initially antagonistic, then sexual, and finally emotional—of a 40ish wife and mother, Anna, and her teenage stepson, Théo.
 
 
The always rigorous Breillat explores the psychological state of Anna—who is also, ironically, a respected lawyer—and, despite a few narrative misplays (a couple important sequences are elided), allows her to tell her truth, even when it’s based on a torrent of lies. As Théo, Samuel Kircher is simultaneously (and plausibly) a child and a young man, while Léa Drucker gives a towering performance of feminine sexual confidence as Anna, a woman who makes wrong decisions and doubles down on them. The film looks fine on Blu; lone extra is a Breillat interview.
 
 
Respighi—Maria Egiziaca 
(Dynamic)
Italian composer Ottorino Respighi’s 1931 theatrical triptych follows the prostitute Maria of Alexandria, whose sacrifice later earned her Catholic sainthood, in a dramatically tense account accompanied by some of Respighi’s loveliest music.
 
 
Pier Luigi Pizzi’s 2024 Venice production centers on the fiery aliveness of soprano Francesca Dotto’s portrayal of Maria, who could have been merely symbolic but instead is a flawed, fully achieved protagonist. Respighi’s score sounds luminous performed by the Venice State Opera orchestra and chorus under the baton of Manlio Benzi. Hi-def video and audio are first-rate.
 
 
 
Strauss—Arabella 
(Naxos)
German master Richard Strauss’ 1933 operatic romance—his final work with longtime librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal—follows the title heroine, a noblewoman with no shortage of suitors, and her younger sister Zdenka (brought up as a boy to save the family money); the combination of Hofmannsthal’s wit and Strauss’ melodies makes this one of the great autumnal operas. Tobias Krazer’s 2023 Berlin State Opera staging mixes a lush Viennese setting with postmodern touches like film clips and casual contemporary wear for the leads.
 
 
If the production is less than visually sparkling, musically it’s aces—as Arabella, Sara Jakubiak adds to her glowing portraits of complex heroines, while Elena Tsallagova (as Zdenka) provides superb support. Donald Runnicles conducts an effective reading of Strauss’ sumptuous score. The hi-def video and audio are topnotch.
 
 
 
4K/UHD Release of the Week
Constantine 
(Warner Bros)
In Francis Lawrence’s 2005 supernatural mess, Keanu Reeves sleepwalks through the title role, an exorcist of sorts who visits heaven and hell and who tries to save L.A. detective Angela, whose twin sister Isabel killed herself under suspicious circumstances. Lawrence conjures the look of dankness and gray foreboding that David Fincher did in 1995’s Seven, which was more plausibly and terrifying.
 
 
Opposite the somnolent Reeves is Rachel Weisz, desperate to make Amanda more than a caricature but defeated by the material and Lawrence’s approach. The UHD images are flawless; extras include new interviews with Lawrence and Reeves as well as archival featurettes and commentaries.
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week 
Supertramp—Live in Paris ’79 
(Mercury/Universal)
On the heels of its biggest-selling album, Breakfast in America, prog-rock group Supertramp released a two-LP live set, Paris, documenting the extensive world tour. That 1980 album has just been reissued on two CDs that include the entire two-hour set with the band firing on all cylinders, from prog epics like “Crime of the Century,” “From Now On” and “Fool’s Overture” to classic cuts like “School,” “Ain’t Nobody But Me” and “Even in the Quietest Moments” and a wide selection of tracks from the then-current smash album: “The Logical Song,” “Goodbye Stranger,” “Take the Long Way Home” and even “Child of Vision.”
 
 
What’s heard in this impeccably remixed concert is how tight the quintet was, from drummer Bob Siebenberg and bassist Dougie Thomson’s rhythm section to John Helliwell’s saxophone and the coleaders, keyboardist/singer Roger Davies and keyboardist/guitarist/singer Roger Hodgson.  

Off-Broadway Play Review—Shakespeare’s “Henry IV” in Brooklyn

Henry IV
Written by William Shakespeare; adapted by Dakin Matthews
Directed by Eric Tucker
Performances through March 2, 2025
Theatre for a New Audience, 262 Ashland Avenue, Brooklyn, NY
tfana.org
 
       James Udom, Cara Ricketts, Jay O. Sanders, Slate Holmgren and Elan Zafir in Henry IV (photo: Gerry Goodstein)
 
When I saw Dakin Matthews’ canny distillation of the two parts of Henry IV at Lincoln Center Theater in 2003, I found it the best Shakespeare I’ve ever seen in New York (and still do)—Jack O’Brien adroitly directed a star-studded cast headed by Kevin Kline as Falstaff, and Matthews’ adaptation subtly distilled the essence of both works into one absorbing four-hour play.
 
Matthews’ Henry IV returns in a far different staging at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center in Brooklyn. Unlike O’Brien’s lush, almost cinematic production, Eric Tucker directs a smaller-scaled version in the round. There are drawbacks to this approach, since the action takes place among dozens of characters in several far-flung locales, including the king’s court, London taverns and a battlefield. The cramped stage area is acknowledged by actors sitting in seats among the audience when not performing, which fosters more intimacy among spectators and performers. And performing in the round by definition has actors facing away from a part of the audience at all times, which has a tendency to swallow important dialogue.
 
Nicole E. Lang’s lighting illuminates the proceedings on Jimmy Stubbs’ minimalist set both dramatically and psychologically, while Catherine Zuber and AC Gottlieb’s costumes pleasingly mix period and modern. Tucker nicely paces the drama among the king’s council discussions, the rebels’ machinations and the lively tavern interludes among London’s lowlifes. He has also double-cast several roles, so some performers change costumes and become other characters right onstage. It’s a diverting effect, but it also points up the difficulty of doing the Bard on a budget, since such busyness at times detracts from the play itself.
 
Of those taking on multiple roles, best are the charismatic Jordan Bellow, who adroitly shuttles between Prince Hal’s brother John and Hal’s partner in frivolity Ned Poins; and the winning Cara Ricketts, who makes both a touching Lady Percy and a rollicking Doll Tearsheet. Matthews himself—who played a supporting role in the 2003 Lincoln Center production—gives the title monarch a sturdy royal presence. 
 
Shakespeare is most interested in the relationship between Hal and his friend, the braggart, womanizer, and self-styled wit named Sir John Falstaff. When Hal prods Falstaff to even greater heights of self-delusion, it makes Falstaff simultaneously funnier and more sorrowful. Elijah Jones finds a nice balance between Hal’s foolishness and budding maturity, and Jay O. Sanders follows in Kevin Kline’s large footsteps to create a Falstaff who is both outsized and normal, buffoonish yet always sympathetic. 
 
Near the end, Hal—now Henry V after his father’s death—coldly banishes his erstwhile friend and sparring partner from the kingdom; Sanders plays this moment with shock and resignation but also a sliver of pride that the young man Falstaff believes he himself has led to this moment has, indeed, met the moment. This is not an essential Shakespeare staging but it is entertaining, which nowadays is nothing to sneeze at.

February '25 Digital Week II

In Theater/Streaming Releases of the Week 
Becoming Led Zeppelin 
(Sony Classics)
How a quartet of British musicians—guitarist Jimmy Page, bassist John Paul Jones, drummer John Bonham and singer Robert Plant—got together to form one of the planet’s legendary rock bands is at the heart of Bernard MacMahon’s straightforward portrait. Introducing each member, born in 1940s war-torn England, and taking their story until the start of 1970—following the huge success of the group’s first two albums and tours—MacMahon lets the four speak for themselves: Page, Jones and Plant give new interviews, and Bonham (whose death in 1980 effectively disbanded the group) is heard in an unearthed 1970s interview.
 
 
The result is two hours of musical bliss for Zepheads: not only are there fresh nuggets like the many mid-’60s hits Page and Jones both played on as session musicians or the besotted female fan calling Plant a “fox” in a call-in interview on an American radio station (“what’s that?” Plant ignorantly asks), there are also incendiary live performances of “Dazed and Confused,” “Communication Breakdown,” and other Zep classics, all looking and sounding brilliant in restored video and audio. A must-see in IMAX, with its killer sound, but even a smaller screen and less than optimal sound system aren’t a dealbreaker.
 
 
 
The Annihilation of Fish 
(Kino Lorber)
Charles Burnett’s 1999 romance starring James Earl Jones and Lynn Redgrave was never released after a bad review scared off the original distributor—although not THAT bad, it’s more than a bit of a mess. Burnett, who made Killer of Sheep and To Sleep with Anger, shows a less than sturdy directorial hand in this slapstick, rom-com, tragedy and heartache.
 
 
Anthony C. Winkler’s scattershot script deserves its share of blame as well. Jones’ and Redgrave’s performances swing from wildly overdone to nicely subtle, sometimes in the same sequence, while Margot Kidder (whom I didn’t recognize at first) provides needed levity as the couple’s landlord.
 
 
 
Something Is About to Happen 
(Film Movement)
Director-cowriter Antonio Méndez Esparza’s account of middle-aged Lucia’s horrifying spiral when she’s laid off and becomes a cabbie has been compared to Taxi Driver itself—but the outbursts of violence that climax Lucia’s story are miles from Travis Bickle’s cleaning the “scum” off NYC streets; rather, Lucia has been wronged, in her mind, by friends and lovers and exacts her own sort of vengeance.
 
 
Malena Alterio plays Lucia forcefully but also with an understated ability to keep her sympathetic even if the bloody final act has been all but foreshadowed by Esparza and Clara Roquet’s script; baring herself emotionally and physically, Alterio makes Lucia and her plight worth watching however unnerving.
 
 
 
Three Birthdays 
(Good Deed Entertainment)
Jane Weinstock directed Nevin Schreiner’s script that’s a choppy look at a liberal Ohio family—father Rob, mother Kate (both professors) and their free-spirited 17-year-old daughter Bobbi—on their birthdays in the pivotal year of 1970. The movie brims with so many signposts of the “hippie” era—open marriages, female sexual awakening, racism, sexism—that when the Kent State shootings are brought in (Kate’s birthday is May 4, the day of the shootings), it tips the scales into lazy contrivance.
 
 
It’s too bad, for some family confrontations are realistically fraught, while the acting of Josh Raynor (Rob), newcomer Nuala Cleary (Bobbi), and the always great Annie Parisse (Kate) is first-rate. I chuckled during the end credits at an aria from Camille Saint-Saëns’ opera Samson and Delilah mistakenly listed as being composed by Claude Debussy.
 
 
 
Trinity 
(First Run Features)
The sorrowful legacy of the atomic bomb, brought back into the spotlight after the success of Christopher Nolan’s supremely flawed Oscar winner Oppenheimer, is vividly if haphazardly recounted in Martina Car and Anthony Audi’s short but wandering documentary, which lets residents of New Mexico—site of the “Trinity” testing site—discuss the lingering physical, emotional and even political effects of the decades of stonewalling, sweeping under the rug and ignoring their plight by the government.
 
 
Along with the often heartrending interviews, the directors also provide a broader political and human context, although even at a succinct 75 minutes, Trinity could use a bit more meat on its bones. 
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week
In the Summers
(Music Box)
Writer-director Alessandra Lacorazza’s auspicious feature debut is this intensely personal memory film about two sisters, Violeta and Eva, who visit their dad Vicente during several summers over a number of years. Although the drama is sometimes too on the nose as the girls discover how complex their relationship is with a father they only see a couple of weeks a year, only once does Lacorazza stoop to melodrama—a drunken car accident that injures Violeta—but even that sets the stage for a final, touching reunion.
 
 
It’s enacted by a group of fine young actors playing the sisters at various ages and who rotate around the impressive Puerto Rican rapper René “Residente” Pérez Joglar as Vicente: best are Sasha Calle and Lio Mehiel as, respectively, the adult Eva and Violeta. The film looks splendid on Blu; extras include Lacorazza’s commentary, interviews with the director and cast, deleted scenes, bloopers and Lacorazza’s short film, Mami.
 
 
 
Handel—Theodora 
(Naxos)
George Frideric Handel’s 1750 oratorio about fourth-century Christian martyrs Theodora and her husband Didymus contains some of the composer’s most glorious music—and has also been staged as an opera over the centuries, as this misguided Vienna production by director Stefan Herheim shows. Set in Vienna’s modern-day Café Central, which is inappropriate enough, the staging hits its nadir after the chorus sings movingly about Christ raising a man from the dead, and…a waitress brings out tea trays filled with desserts.
 
 
The music, at least, lives up to Handel’s high standards: the Arnold Schoenberg Choir (under chorus master Erwin Ortner) and La Folia Barockorchester (under conductor Bejun Mehta) perform superbly, and Jacquelyn Wagner (Theodora) and Christopher Lowrey (Didymus) sing beautifully. There’s fine hi-def video and audio.
 
 
 
CD Releases of the Week
Getty—Goodbye, Mister Chips 
(Pentatone)
Now 91, Gordon Getty—yes, he’s one of the Gettys—has been composing operas for 40 years, and his latest, a 2017 stage work that premiered as a film in 2021, is an attractive adaptation of the James Hilton novella about beloved teacher Mr. Chipping at an English boys’ school. Getty also penned the libretto, and his music is accomplished and, by its end, quite moving (Chipping’s wife Kathie has a couple of emotionally climactic appearances).
 
 
This excellent recording, by the Barbara Coast Orchestra and San Francisco Boys Chorus under conductor Dennis Doubin, highlights wonderful vocal performances by soprano Melody Moore as Kathie; bass-baritone Kevin Short in several smaller roles; and tenor Nathan Granner as Mr. Chips himself, a man whose personal tragedies color his natural optimism for his students.
 
 
 
MacDowell—Piano Concerto No. 1, Other Orchestral Works 
(Chandos)
It might be difficult to believe that Edward MacDowell (1860-1908) was considered a leading American composer of his generation; but then, who else was there at the time? Whatever the case, MacDowell’s music, at least on the basis of this elegantly played survey of his orchestral works by the BBC Philharmonic led by conductor John Wilson, is perfectly structured and lushly orchestrated.
 
 
Although his shimmery Piano Concerto No. 1 is the main draw—especially as played by the exquisite soloist Xiayin Wang—the two symphonic poems, Lancelot und Elaine and Lamia, are also beautifully wrought.

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