For the first time since the pandemic shutdown over a year ago, the Toronto Symphony Orchestra has presented a concert live from the stage of Roy Thomson Hall. Due to current lockdown conditions, of course, it has to be a much-reduced chamber-orchestra-sized body of players, all required health and distancing precautions must be observed, and there cannot be a live audience present in the hall -- but it is a live stream of a live performance all the same.
Sensibly, the chosen programme was an all-Mozart concert. It's sensible not only because of the popularity of his music, but even more so because almost anything Mozart wrote for orchestra can readily be adapted to an ensemble of just 32 players as in this performance -- or even less. His gigantic reputation in the world of music certainly didn't come about because he wrote pieces for gigantic numbers of artists!
The programme, led by Resident Conductor Simon Rivard, opened with the early overture to La finta giardiniera, K.196 ("The Pretend Garden Girl"), a very rarely-heard comic opera written when Mozart was 18. It was his first commission for the operatic stage, and was supposed to be a dramma giocoso, although in the end it turned out to be more opera buffa with a few serious moments to leaven the fun.
That sense of zippy energy and brilliant high spirits certainly informed Rivard's reading of the sparkling, vivacious overture, which lasted for just 4 minutes and change.
Next up was the third of Mozart's five Violin Concertos (the G major concerto, K.216), all of them written during that same year when he turned 18. A busy young man indeed! This concerto wears its mantle lightly, the moments of virtuoso display neatly hidden under the prevailing lyrical, almost pastoral mood.
The soloist was the Orchestra's Associate Concertmaster, Zeyu Victor Li, here making his TSO concerto debut. I made mention of the work's lyrical, pastoral mood because that was the dominant quality permeating almost all of Li's reading of the solo part.
Indeed, lyricism turned almost to reticence during the first movement, a sunny stroll in the country fully the equal of Beethoven's symphony. Li's tone throughout almost all of the first movement remained somewhat restrained, classically poised, where other artists might choose a more flamboyant approach. The difference was noteworthy when he suddenly found himself working within a much broader scale of tone in the cadenza -- and then continued to work within that wider tonal palette until the end of the concerto. That's not a criticism, by the way -- the soloist's relative restraint worked well to emphasize the restful, pastoral character of the first movement's themes.
The second movement brought gently pulsating accompaniment from the orchestra, with Li giving the themes a smoothly phrased presentation.
The finale bounced along delightfully, the main rondo theme striking delicious contrasts from the contrasting episodes, and particularly from the two apparently extraneous sections which crop up out of nowhere, say their say, and then vanish. In all this diverse material, Li characterized the violin part with finesse, finding plenty of tone colours without seeming to strive after them. In fact, his performance of the entire work could well be characterized as sounding completely natural, indeed almost inevitable, as if the music could sound no other way (although we know it can).
The concert ended with the famous Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K.550, one of the final group of three symphonies -- and certainly the darkest, most incisive of the three. It was the first work of Mozart's which I grew to love as a teenager, and has remained a firm favourite of mine ever since.
One key feature of this symphony certainly pointed the way towards the more dramatic future symphonies of the Romantic era: Mozart avoided the usual lightweight, serio-comic rondo for a finale in favour of a sonata form movement which is every bit the equal in weight and complexity of the first movement. The centre of gravity of the symphony was forever tilted away from the first movement as a result, and it's almost impossible to imagine the grandeur and drama of the finales in Beethoven's Choral Symphony, Schubert's Great C Major, or Brahms' First and Third without Mozart having pointed the way in this work and its successor, the so-called "Jupiter" Symphony (#41).
This symphony also was unusual, and remained unusual, in being dominated by minor keys throughout the first and fourth movements, and the minuet of the third movement.
Rivard led the orchestra in a brisk, well-pointed reading which never sacrificed clarity or weight to the speed of the action. This was especially important with the repeated viola notes in the main theme of the first movement, or with the rapid figures in all the strings in the finale.
The wind section produced strongly-accented chords in the first movement, and limpid tone in their solo lines in the slow movement.
The minuet in the third movement, while remaining brisk, saw the orchestra pull out a heavier, more emphatic style which equally pointed the way forward to the more heavyweight symphonic scherzos to come in the next century.
The whole dramatic arc of the symphony led up to the fierce reading of the finale, a performance which accentuated (not over much, but strongly) the sudden, blunt key shifts and lightning-quick dynamic contrasts. Rivard kept the drama in hand, never forgetting that this was still Mozart, but within his self-appointed limits he scored strongly in such moments as the chain of five key shifts leading into the development, or the unsettling horn fortissimos which puncture the argument soon after.
Throughout the entire performance, the orchestra members played with suitable style and joyful energy. The energy was undoubtedly helped by having all the players (except the cellos) stand throughout the concert.
On the technical front, I was truly impressed by the way the broadcast engineers overcame the hassles of widely dispersed players, plexiglass shields, and multiple microphones to create a most believable sound picture, in which all instruments came through clearly, none dominated unduly, and none were sold short.
I was also delighted by the diverse range of camera angles used, allowing us to see the players and conductor from almost every conceivable angle (except, perhaps, directly overhead).
For everyone who purchased a digital ticket for this concert, the archived performance remains available on the TSO website for repeat viewing for one week. I certainly plan to watch and listen again!
For those who didn't take it in, you can rest assured that the whole evening was technologically excellent, musically beautiful, and came across the internet with a very definite live-concert vibe. The TSO plans to present one or more such concerts during the balance of the season, and you should sign up for their email communications to be informed of the dates.
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