Night Two of The Israel Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Tuesday, 04 November 2025 14:59

Written by Jack Angstreich

Lahav Shani, photo by Stephanie Berger

At the invaluable Stern Auditorium, on the night of Thursday, October 16th, I had the privilege to attend a wonderful concert—the second of three in the same week—presented by Carnegie Hall and featuring the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under the accomplished direction of Lahav Shani.

The event started memorably with an admirable account of Leonard Bernstein’s seldom played Halil from 1981, which affords some of the pleasures of his more popular—and populist—scores. The composer commented on the piece as follows:

This work is dedicated to “the spirit of Yadin and to his fallen brothers.” The reference is to Yadin Tanenbaum, a 19-year-old Israeli flutist who, in 1973, at the height of his musical powers, was killed in his tank in the Sinai. He would have been 27 years old at the time this piece was written.

Halil (the Hebrew word for “flute”) is formally unlike any other work I have written but is like much of my music in its struggle between tonal and non-tonal forces. In this case, I sense that struggle as involving wars and the threat of wars, the overwhelming desire to live, and the consolations of art, love, and the hope for peace. It is a kind of night-music which, from its opening 12-tone row to its ambiguously diatonic final cadence, is an ongoing conflict of nocturnal images: wish-dreams, nightmares, repose, sleeplessness, night-terrors, and sleep itself, Death’s twin brother.

I never knew Yadin Tanenbaum, but I know his spirit.

Comparable in rarity was the next piece, Paul Ben-Haim’s unsung, here compellingly performed Symphony No. 1, Op. 25, a worthy, if maybe not consistently extraordinary, work. In a note on the program, Oded Shnei-Dor explains:

“The moment I conducted my first symphony with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra (IPO) was the moment I felt like an Israeli composer,” stated Paul Ben-Haim in an interview towards the end of his life.

Written in 1939 and 1940 during the tumultuous events in Europe, the composer affirmed that: “The terrible forces of destruction which tore the ground from under our feet could not fail to leave their stamp on my work … In spite of this, my work is ‘pure’ and ‘absolute’ music.” The annotator adds that:

In a short lecture to celebrate its commercial recording, [Ben-Haim] said, “This is not simple music. Definitely not. Far from it. However, it is not complex. One has to hear to listen. If you like it—that’s good. If you don’t like it—that’s also good, as you can enjoy extraordinary orchestral playing.”

The initial, Allegro energico movement begins stormily, although a more expansive section—reminiscent of Jean Sibelius—soon follows, succeeded by a quieter, more enigmatic, somewhat premonitory episode; more turbulent, dramatic music eventually returns which, after another subdued passage, becomes a powerful march that concludes abruptly. On the ensuing, lovely Molto calmo e cantabile, Shnei-Dor records that:

The musical material of the movement is derived from “I lift up my eyes to the mountains,” a popular song from the repertoire of Bracha Zefira, a singer that Ben-Haim accompanied for a decade.

Appropriately lyrical, the music intensifies, although it soon recovers a more reflective, even pastoral, ethos, ending softly. About the finale, marked Presto con fuoco, the annotator remarks:

The first theme originates from Joram, Ben-Haim’s largest composition from his time in Germany. The second theme is a syncopated hora, the Israeli national dance, which is played heroically at the end of the symphony.

It opens propulsively and maintains a sense of suspense, building to a triumphant close.

The second half of the evening was even stronger, consisting in a superb version of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s magnificent Symphony No. 5 in E Minor, Op. 64, written in 1888, a work that, interestingly, he deemed “a failure,” adding that: “There is something repellent in it, some over-exaggerated color, some insincerity of fabrication which the public instantly recognizes.” The first movement’s Andante   introduction is soulful and poignant; its Allegro con anima main body is, as would be expected, more spirited and dynamic, with moments of pure Romanticism, and it finishes gently. The next movement—its tempo is Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza—starts with an exquisite horn solo and is indeed song-like—it contains some of the composer’s most beautiful music, reaching a stunning climax that ushers in an elaborate coda, and concluding very quietly. The following Valse, marked Allegro moderato, is indeed dance-like, relatively effervescent and radiant with charm, although it ends with some suddenness. The Andante maestoso introduction to the Finale is stately, while the bulk of the Allegro vivace movement is exultant and exuberant, indeed thrilling, closing forcefully and affirmatively. Enthusiastic applause elicited a delightful encore: Felix Mendelssohn’s Three Songs, arranged by Shani.

Off-Broadway Reviews—Two at the Public: John Leguizamo’s “The Other Americans” and Richard Nelson’s “When the Hurlyburly’s Done”

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Saturday, 01 November 2025 02:56

Written by Kevin Filipski

Leguizamo and Velez in The Other Americans (photo: Joan Marcus)

A scene from When the Hurlyburly’s Done

Israel Philharmonic Orchestra Perform at Carnegie Hall

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Friday, 31 October 2025 14:04

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Stephanie Berger

At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Wednesday, October 15th, I had the pleasure to attend an excellent concert—the first of three in the same week—presented by Carnegie Hall, featuring the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under the impressive direction of Lahav Shani.

The event started splendidly with a superb account of Sergei Prokofiev’s marvelous, seldom played Overture on Hebrew Themes, which builds to an abrupt—but delightful—finish. (It was originally composed for sextet in 1919 and orchestrated in 1934.)The renowned soloist Pinchas Zukerman then entered the stage for an admirable performance of the unsung, even rarer Violin Concerto, Op. 58, of Paul Ben-Haim, from 1959. (It strongly recalls the work of Paul Hindemith and Béla Bartók.) The initial, Allegro movement begins somewhat insistently and maintains a driving rhythm for most of its length—much of the music has an affirmative quality although there are reflective passages too—and it closes forcefully. The ensuing, brief Andante affetuoso is soulful and song-like on the whole, and the most beautiful of the three movements. The Cadenza e finale is somewhat spiky—it acquires a propulsive pace and a sprightly ethos and concludes emphatically. Enthusiastic applause elicited an exquisite encore from Zukerman and the ensemble: the same composer’s Berceuse Sfaradite.

The second half of the evening was even more memorable: a magnificent rendition of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s extraordinary Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, Op. 36. The first movement’s Andante sostenuto introduction begins dramatically with majestic fanfares; the bulk of the Moderato con animamain body has an intensely passionate character but there are more subdued moments and an optimistic, recurring, secondary theme that provides a lyrical refuge from the turbulence that surrounds it—it concludes powerfully. The following movement—its tempo is Andantino in modo di canzona—opens wistfully with a solo, oboe melody that expresses, according to the composer, “that melancholy feeling which comes in the evening when one sits down alone … a host of memories appears, and one is sad because so much is passed, gone”; it too conveys Romantic longings and concludes softly. The succeeding Scherzo, marked Pizzicato ostinato, allegro, is playful, charming and lively; it becomes march-like and ends quietly, if cheerfully. Tchaikovsky said that the movement suggests

...elusive apparitions that pass through the mind when one has drunk a little wine and feels the first stages of intoxication … one remembers a portrait of drunken peasants and a street song. Then somewhere in the distance a military procession goes by.

The Finale, an Allegro con fuoco, opens exuberantly, celebratorily, and dynamically, preceding a gentler, dance-like interlude before the more exultant music returns, dominating the remainder of the movement, which closes triumphantly. A standing ovation drew forth another fabulous encore: the ‘Russian Dance’ from the same composer’s Suite from his astonishing ballet, The Nutcracker.