For the first time since before the pandemic, Daniel and I encountered a sold-out Severance Hall at this evening’s Cleveland Orchestra concert, featuring guest soloist Lang Lang. A few days ago, an email from the Orchestra cautioned us that both the hall and parking garage were sold out, so we took Lyft to Severance, which I’m finding to be an increasingly convenient option. The email also warned that the concert would start promptly at 8pm (it started five minutes late), and that latecomers would not be seated. The implication was that for numerous attendees this would be their first classical concert- and judging by the behavior of some in the audience, it was. For example, each movement of both works on the program was vigorously applauded. There was also obtrusive taking of cell phone photos and videos during the performance, frequent talking, and other noisy behavior.
Earl Wild
famously referred to Lang Lang as “the J-Lo of the piano.” Whatever one thinks of his pianism,
musicality, or stage mannerisms, Lang’s presence on the program puts butts into
seats – and despite all the talk of artistry, Classical music is also a
business. So, how did Lang play Saint-Saëns’
Piano Concerto in G minor?
Unevenly. Certainly, there was
nothing to fault pianistically in Lang’s performance – he has technique to burn
and is happy to remind the audience of that.
As for his stage antics, they were not overly obtrusive from my seat near
the back of the main floor – at least until he started loudly stamping his foot
during the concerto’s finale.
It must be
pointed out that the construction of this concerto is somewhat unusual. Instead of the fast, slow, fast arrangement
of movements, Saint-Saëns starts with a moderately paced opening movement, a
scherzo for the second movement, and a very fast finale. Lang’s strength was in his pacing of the
opening movement, treating the introductory piano solo in a
quasi-improvisational manner. Throughout
the movement, Lang paid attention to details voicing, pedaling, and nuance that
are often glossed over. The dramatic
episode was not rushed. Things went
downhill during the Scherzo, where Lang took off like a bat out of Hell. His approach to phrasing was scattershot, and
there was a campy, effete manner that was off putting – particularly when he
slammed on the breaks and poured on the schmaltz during the lyrical
sections. The finale took off at a great
clip and didn’t relent. Lang brought out
some bass notes which are almost never heard.
But the movement didn’t built toward a climax – it was just a race, like
a player piano on overdrive. As for the
orchestra’s accompaniment, Welser-Möst ensured they performed with their usual
smoothness and stayed out of the soloist’s way – which was an accomplishment in
itself. The pianist performed an encore - a quiet piece which was unfamiliar to me.
Following
intermission, Welser-Möst returned to conduct Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique.
The program behind this work draws inspiration from Berlioz’s own
story. He fell madly in love with Irish
Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, who was initially resistant to his
charms. This frustration inspired the
somewhat overheated program behind the symphony, in which the protagonist
becomes obsessed with the object of his desire, is rebuffed, goes mad, promptly
poisons himself with opium, and hallucinates all sorts of things, including
seeing her in Hell. In real life,
Smithson gave into the composer’s charms and they eventually married – which
turned sour when she gave up her career, which resulted in financial
difficulties. Then, discovering Hector
had acquired a mistress, she became an alcoholic. The two eventually divorced. The lesson is clear: Be careful what you wish
for – you just may get it. But the tale inspired a memorable and oft performed
orchestral piece, inventively orchestrated and structurally innovative – with
Berlioz’s idée fixe transforming itself throughout the work’s
five movements.
The
performance tonight was what one would expect from Welser-Möst: brisk tempi,
exquisite balancing of sections, immaculate solo work – in particular a gorgeous
offstage Oboe solo from Frank Rosenwein – and slavish adherence to repeats: in this case, the
repeat during the fourth movement March to the Scaffold. This repeat simply does not work within the
narrative of the symphony – which is, after all, programmatic. It’s as if the guards, taking the condemned
to the guillotine, decide to head back to the jail cell and grab him a last
cigarette. But this is a quibble and the
ultimate fault lies with the composer – yes, even geniuses can make mistakes.
