|
I'm
not sure how many people out there remember a time when Channel
12 used to broadcast classical music videos - well, montages of
scenery over light music, really - as filler between programmes.
Some of those were products of the NHK (Nippon Hosso Kyokai, aka
Japan Broadcasting Corporation) Symphony Orchestra. The NHK still
enjoys the distinction of having every single one of its
subscription concerts broadcast nationwide over television and radio,
which can only make the rest of us look on in envy.
For
their current tour, Dutoit and his ensemble have prepared an colourful
mix of mostly French and Russian works: Stravinsky's Rite of
Spring, Debussy's Images, and here in Singapore, Berlioz's
Symphonie Fantastique, in addition to Takemitsu's Requiem
for Strings and Lee Huei Min's showcase, the Prokofiev Second
Violin Concerto.
| Desecration
of the House
The
Inkpot usually gives a Noise Index Rating™ for concerts
- our irreverent method of social commentary about bad local
concert-going habits. But this evening was beyond numerical
description. Just about anything that could happen did:
- Photographer
taking multiple exposure shots
- An
ongoing plague of coughing and sniffling
- Dropped
programme books and personal miscellany
- Watch
alarms going off on the hour
- People
talking during the slow bits
- Handphone
that went off in the cor anglais solo at the end
of Meadows
The
only thing which did not occur (not where we were located)
was a crying infant, although we did come pretty close - babes-in-arms
were spotted in the hall.
The
fact is, we normally do not see half as much of these shenanigans
going on at regular concerts at Victoria Concert Hall, which
also has half the seating capacity. Our concern is with the
pending opening of the 1,600-seat Esplanade Concert Hall,
with its Russell Johnson™ acoustics, and the numbers
of people flocking to "be there".
Far
be it for us to be moral arbitrators about concertgoering
habits (OK, alright, so we already are) - but if this is what
the Esplanade experience is going to be, well, like Geena
Davis says in The Fly, "Be afraid. Be very afraid."
|
A pity,
then, that the SSCL chose to present this orchestra at one of the
worst acoustical halls in Singapore (bar the Indoor Stadium). Without
a proper canopy/reflector above the stage and with the musicians
seated flat, the multi-layered orchestral timbre was pretty much
reduced to the viscosity of thick gruel: higher timbres were smothered
out and lower timbres unrealistically amplified.
Musically
a recognizable distant cousin of Avro Pärt's Fratres
and Barber's Adagio (both works, interestingly, "for Strings"),
Takemitsu's youthful Requiem was an interesting (if understandable)
choice for inclusion. However, it was clear from the opening notes
that the players were greatly hampered by the gelatinous aural quality
of the hall. Even though there was a hint of unwarmed-up-ness in
the melodic exposition of the music, you could feel they were trying
to penetrate to the underlying thematic bedrock of tragedy and grief.
The end-result, though, was not faintly depressing as much as tedious.
There
was less of an issue with Min's vehicle, the Prokofiev Second
Violin Concerto, in which she stamped her conviction on the
music right from the solo opening entry. Lacking the pungency of
the piano concertos and the esoterism of the Symphony-Concerto
for Cello, this middle-period Prokofiev offering was apposite
for Min at her present stage of development.
In
her blazing salmon dress and trademark hair-in-a-bun, Min favoured
a literal interpretation of the given tempo marking - neither going
too fast nor too slow - and for the most part, delivered a fairly
conservative reading (with Dutoit, always sensitive, in close company).
But there was no question about her prowess in intonation or technique,
and her interplay with the orchestra was both virtuosic and delightful.
This
was especially notable in the second movement, with paired clarinets
and pizzicato strings accompanying the soloist's rendition
of the main theme, although there were some instances in the movement
where Min abandoned delving into the (heavy) Russian spirituality
and tended to run away with her idiosyncracies. Thankfully, there
was little damage here to the timbre of Min's Guarnerius filius
Andrea from the hall's dampening field in the meditative moments,
but the orchestral tuttis in the final movement was robbed of a
great deal of energy and verve (not to mention wit) by this emulous
sonic environment.
The
orchestra's own showcase was presented after the break, the Berlioz
Symphonie Fantastique. For some inexplicable reason, the
(recycled) programme notes omitted mention of Harriet Smithson,
the English Shakespearean actress about whom the composer reportedly
proclaimed, "I will marry that woman and on that drama I will write
my greatest symphony." The year of the work's premiere was also
given incorrectly (1830, not 1833), amongst with other inaccuracies.
It was also not a good idea to print text in red ink in a
sans-serif typeface - which becomes an eye-strain under concert
hall 20% lighting.
 But
on to the music itself, and the NHK was as good (at least) as its
reputation promised. Burning through the sonic fog as much as they
could and with the aristocratic Dutoit (left) at the helm (conducting
from memory), they dispatched Berlioz with unmatched intensity and
idiom. Adoping an idyllic bounce and appropriate rubato in
the waltz movement, the Swiss maestro evoked (clever pun alert)
a passionate whirl of sonic colour that swept the audience into
Berlioz's dream-psyche.
The
first and third movements were no less surreal, melancholic in the
former and balmy in the latter (with special mention to the woodwind
soloists and the viola section). But the fireworks really emerged
in the party pieces of the last two movements: the grisly March
to the Scaffold which was less a phantasmagoric tableaux than
sheer, outright gratuitous musical violence. The horns were sumptuously
blended into (clever pun alert redux) a velvety twang to die for.
For
the Dream of a Witches' Sabbath, things turned truly grotesque,
invoked by truly inspired playing from the musicians bringing Berlioz's
music to life: the clarinet's depiction of a dancing witch was not
to be quickly forgotten, the four-part timpani writing brought down
the roof (not literally) and the string section's effects (con
legno, sul ponticello et cetera) was a demonstration masterclass
in Romantic orchestration. The bass drum was preternaturally overwhelming,
to the point of burlesque, thanks to the hall's infernal acoustics.
We
don't know if creating a symphonic tour de force was Berlioz's
opium-induced intentions, but certainly it was Dutoit's. No surprise,
then, that the enthralled sold-out audience accorded Dutoit and
his ensemble seven curtain calls, and the good maestro eventually
had to wave the audience to go home. For the solitary encore, they
presented a feisty Farandole from Bizet's L'Arlesienne
Suite, dashed off at breakneck tempo - Dutoit was even already
stepping off the podium half a bar before the final chordal big-bang.
WILLIAM
BEH
watches more cable movies than he attends concerts these days. No
need to ask why.
Ong
Yong Hui reviews the NHK
12.3.2002
© William Beh
All
original texts are copyrighted. Please seek permission from the
Classical Editor
if you wish to reproduce/quote Inkpot material.
|
|
