It's just two years since the Toronto Symphony staged a performance of Carl Orff's spectacular cantata, Carmina Burana, and partnered it with a violin concerto by a twentieth-century composer.
Last time around, the Concerto # 2 by Szymanowski was the partnering work; this week it was the sole violin concerto by Korngold, played by renowned Canadian violinist James Ehnes. The concert was conducted by Maestro Donald Runnicles, a regular guest on the podium of Roy Thomson Hall.
Carmina Burana called on the combined forces of the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, the Toronto Youth Choir (in their TSO debut), and the Toronto Children's Chorus, with vocal soloists who all were also making their TSO debuts: Nicole Haslett (soprano), Sunnyboy Dladla (tenor), and Norman Garrett (baritone).
Considering that these two works were composed within a decade of each other, the contrast between them is startling to say the least.
Carmina Burana called on the combined forces of the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, the Toronto Youth Choir (in their TSO debut), and the Toronto Children's Chorus, with vocal soloists who all were also making their TSO debuts: Nicole Haslett (soprano), Sunnyboy Dladla (tenor), and Norman Garrett (baritone).
Considering that these two works were composed within a decade of each other, the contrast between them is startling to say the least.
Korngold's Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 35, was composed in 1945, by which time he had been living in the United States for a number of years and had become established as a renowned film composer. The concerto's three movements all draw on themes from his film scores -- and it shows. It was also extremely old-fashioned for its time. Composed decades after the shock effects of such works as The Rite of Spring, the music sounds like it would be in place half a century earlier, or more. It's unabashedly Romantic in sound, harmonically staid and easy on the ear, and filled with lush, sweeping melodies for the soloist and the massed strings.
And it hangs fire, for all of the first two movements, the fragmentary nature of the film themes failing to build into any substantial melodic or rhythmic statement that the ear can grasp and retain. The finale at last brings a clear tune, a bouncy folk-dance kind of melody, which lasts for 2 short 4-bar phrases and then is repeated and varied ad infinitum (and elaborated by the soloist -- oh, my, is it elaborated!). Can you tell that this work doesn't really do anything for me?
The essential need here is for a violinist who can play the whole of the first two sugary movements with a very sweet tone, and then cut loose in the increasingly acrobatic finale without losing that essential character of his playing. Soloist James Ehnes maintained that balance with sensitive support from the accompanying orchestra and conductor. The long sweeping lines in the first two movements were beautifully phrased. In the showstopper finale, Ehnes tossed off the energetic acrobatics (demanded of the composer by Jascha Heifetz) almost nonchalantly, keeping consistent clarity in even the busiest passagework. The enthusiastic applause he received was entirely merited.
And it hangs fire, for all of the first two movements, the fragmentary nature of the film themes failing to build into any substantial melodic or rhythmic statement that the ear can grasp and retain. The finale at last brings a clear tune, a bouncy folk-dance kind of melody, which lasts for 2 short 4-bar phrases and then is repeated and varied ad infinitum (and elaborated by the soloist -- oh, my, is it elaborated!). Can you tell that this work doesn't really do anything for me?
The essential need here is for a violinist who can play the whole of the first two sugary movements with a very sweet tone, and then cut loose in the increasingly acrobatic finale without losing that essential character of his playing. Soloist James Ehnes maintained that balance with sensitive support from the accompanying orchestra and conductor. The long sweeping lines in the first two movements were beautifully phrased. In the showstopper finale, Ehnes tossed off the energetic acrobatics (demanded of the composer by Jascha Heifetz) almost nonchalantly, keeping consistent clarity in even the busiest passagework. The enthusiastic applause he received was entirely merited.
Carmina Burana was a showstopper success on its first appearance in the 1930s, and was widely performed and recorded in the next 2 decades. It has retained a firm place in the repertoire ever since. The work has enjoyed a surge in popularity in recent years due to the frequent use of the majestic opening/closing chorus, O Fortuna, in video games, sporting events, television, and films.
In my review of the last TSO performance, two years ago, I wrote a detailed commentary about what makes this work "go." You can read it here: Not-So-Sancta Simplicitas.
Maestro Runnicles led a tautly-conceived performance, with brisk tempi predominating. If some of the faster sections rolled along more rapidly than one usually hears, there was contrast in the much slower-than-usual speed of some of the slow sections. The numerous tempo changes, both sudden and gradual, all remained firmly integrated -- a shining example being the smooth acceleration in each of the five verses of Tempus est iocundum. He also respected the composer's call for all the movements within each of the cantata's five sections to be played attacca, even to the point of having the opening notes of Fortune plango vulnera "appearing" as the echoes from O Fortuna's final chord died away.
Runnicles also called for an interesting change in the seating plan. Other performances I've attended have placed the two pianos alongside the percussion section -- which I think is entirely appropriate since their role in the work is rhythmic. Runnicles had the two pianos placed face-to-face in front of the podium. The curious result was that the pianos were often far less audible -- whether because of the position, or because the maestro had them hold down their volume.
The combined forces of the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir and the Toronto Youth Choir acquitted themselves magnificently throughout the cantata, from the majestic opening cry of O Fortuna to the rapid-fire yet still completely clear diction of In taberna quando sumus or Veni, veni, venias. The steadiness of the tone was noteworthy and the choral blend across the full dynamic range was an unfailing delight.
The Toronto Children's Chorus, too, sang their more limited role in the work with precision and purity, and with earthy gusto -- particularly in Tempus est iocundum.
Nicole Haslett sang with pure, clear tone in her sections, augmented by a true sense of playfulness throughout her role -- as, for instance, in the lightly-bouncing staccato of the phrase Stetit puella. Her voice soared to the heights in Dulcissime, nailing the high notes cleanly and clearly.
Sunnyboy Dladla used his high range to sing the roasted swan's song in a full voice, not the far more usual falsetto. And it was a definite full voice, with no hint of crossing a break even at the highest note in the third phrase of each stanza. Impressive achievement.
Norman Garrett sang at first with a dark, almost bass-like tone and a curious, "covered" sound in his first solo, Dies, nox, et omnia. The sound opened up more when he hit the peaks in Estuans interius, and his full-throated delivery of Ego sum abbas was exciting indeed.
It's worth noting that none of the soloists attempted anything in the nature of dramatizing their parts. Some performers do, and why not? After all, Orff's intention was that this be a staged work presenting actions or dance that correlated phrase by phrase with the music.
There's a received opinion in some quarters of the musical world that Carmina Burana is too "simple" to be taken seriously, and doesn't merit all the attention it gets. I think that can be safely dismissed as "sour grapes." This spectacular performance definitely found all manner of subtleties in Orff's work. And yet, it was in no wise the same as the one 2 years ago, or the one I heard last month in Kitchener and failed to review (my bad).
The capacity audience in Roy Thomson Hall (on a Sunday afternoon, no less!) clearly agreed with me that this performance was spectacular. The cheering and applause were sustained and enthusiastic.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A footnote: as the soloists were standing at the stage centre for the last round of bows, Maestro Runnicles walked back through the orchestra to embrace a player at the last desk of the second violins -- and that's when I noticed that a certain violinist, by name James Ehnes, had come back onto the stage and sat in with the orchestra throughout the second half of the concert. I don't think I've ever seen a soloist do that before!
Maestro Runnicles led a tautly-conceived performance, with brisk tempi predominating. If some of the faster sections rolled along more rapidly than one usually hears, there was contrast in the much slower-than-usual speed of some of the slow sections. The numerous tempo changes, both sudden and gradual, all remained firmly integrated -- a shining example being the smooth acceleration in each of the five verses of Tempus est iocundum. He also respected the composer's call for all the movements within each of the cantata's five sections to be played attacca, even to the point of having the opening notes of Fortune plango vulnera "appearing" as the echoes from O Fortuna's final chord died away.
Runnicles also called for an interesting change in the seating plan. Other performances I've attended have placed the two pianos alongside the percussion section -- which I think is entirely appropriate since their role in the work is rhythmic. Runnicles had the two pianos placed face-to-face in front of the podium. The curious result was that the pianos were often far less audible -- whether because of the position, or because the maestro had them hold down their volume.
The combined forces of the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir and the Toronto Youth Choir acquitted themselves magnificently throughout the cantata, from the majestic opening cry of O Fortuna to the rapid-fire yet still completely clear diction of In taberna quando sumus or Veni, veni, venias. The steadiness of the tone was noteworthy and the choral blend across the full dynamic range was an unfailing delight.
The Toronto Children's Chorus, too, sang their more limited role in the work with precision and purity, and with earthy gusto -- particularly in Tempus est iocundum.
Nicole Haslett sang with pure, clear tone in her sections, augmented by a true sense of playfulness throughout her role -- as, for instance, in the lightly-bouncing staccato of the phrase Stetit puella. Her voice soared to the heights in Dulcissime, nailing the high notes cleanly and clearly.
Sunnyboy Dladla used his high range to sing the roasted swan's song in a full voice, not the far more usual falsetto. And it was a definite full voice, with no hint of crossing a break even at the highest note in the third phrase of each stanza. Impressive achievement.
Norman Garrett sang at first with a dark, almost bass-like tone and a curious, "covered" sound in his first solo, Dies, nox, et omnia. The sound opened up more when he hit the peaks in Estuans interius, and his full-throated delivery of Ego sum abbas was exciting indeed.
It's worth noting that none of the soloists attempted anything in the nature of dramatizing their parts. Some performers do, and why not? After all, Orff's intention was that this be a staged work presenting actions or dance that correlated phrase by phrase with the music.
There's a received opinion in some quarters of the musical world that Carmina Burana is too "simple" to be taken seriously, and doesn't merit all the attention it gets. I think that can be safely dismissed as "sour grapes." This spectacular performance definitely found all manner of subtleties in Orff's work. And yet, it was in no wise the same as the one 2 years ago, or the one I heard last month in Kitchener and failed to review (my bad).
The capacity audience in Roy Thomson Hall (on a Sunday afternoon, no less!) clearly agreed with me that this performance was spectacular. The cheering and applause were sustained and enthusiastic.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A footnote: as the soloists were standing at the stage centre for the last round of bows, Maestro Runnicles walked back through the orchestra to embrace a player at the last desk of the second violins -- and that's when I noticed that a certain violinist, by name James Ehnes, had come back onto the stage and sat in with the orchestra throughout the second half of the concert. I don't think I've ever seen a soloist do that before!
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