A well-earned ovation for Tchaikovsky’s Manfred symphony
On Wednesday, March 28, New York had the unusual experience of a Russian conductor with a German orchestra: Kirill Petrenko made his Carnegie Hall debut with the touring Bayerisches Staatsorchester — one of the oldest professional orchestras in the world — and played a split German-Russian program of Brahms and Tchaikovsky.
Petrenko is short and compact, with close-cropped curly hair and a wide smile — he looks incredibly Russian. But he sounds German, and his orchestras appreciate this: He made his reputation conducting opera in Vienna and Berlin and did three consecutive seasons of the Ring cycle at Bayreuth. The fearsome Berlin Philharmonic liked him so much that after just three guest appearances, they elected him to replace Simon Rattle. (Petrenko will take over next spring.)
On the podium, Petrenko is expressive but subtle. It would convey the wrong impression to say he is balletic — during much of the concert he kept his feet close together and he had no tendency to dance around. But he has balletic grace, bearing, and poise: Every gesture seemed to flow through his whole body.
He sounds German inasmuch as he keeps the orchestra tightly controlled — in particular the strings — and indulges little romance and no emotional excess. He has a precise idea of how far the orchestra should go and allows them no further. The result was unexpected: Brahms’s Double Concerto sounded hemmed in. But Tchaikovsky’s Manfred symphony, prevented from a natural tendency to histrionics, was magnificent.
The Double Concerto, for violin and cello, is Brahms’s richest and most beautiful concerto — as well as his last and least appreciated. For the remaining decade of his life following its completion, Brahms would devote himself exclusively to chamber music and the keyboard. But he created the Double Concerto as his defining view of a symphony orchestra. It was also his stratagem to repair a personal rift with the great violinist Joseph Joachim, who was induced to debut the work with the cellist from Joachim’s quartet, Robert Hausmann.
The concerto has no flashy virtuoso work, so it has never been a favorite of soloists and is relatively rarely performed. Brahms insisted on balance; the texture is smooth and luscious. The unusual expedient of two solo instruments allowed Brahms to create a reconciliation in music, in which the violin and the cello first play opposite each other and then grow gradually together, exchanging antiphonal effects for harmonious support. The last movement, a vivace dance that calls to mind Brahms’s shimmering “Rondo alla zingarese” from his first piano quartet, repeats this effect in miniature: Violin and cello banter and bicker but are married by the end of the movement.
The performance by violinist Julia Fischer and cellist David Müller-Schott was vibrant. The two have worked together since their student days and their intimate interplay did great justice to the piece. One wishes only that Petrenko would have given the orchestra greater rein. The tempi were excellent, but in the last movement especially, a touch of humorous romance and grand gesture was sorely needed.
Tchaikovsky’s Manfred Symphony is based on Byron’s poem of the same name — a metaphysical drama about an alpine-wandering hero who mourns the death of his beloved and who ultimately defies various spirits and powers to seek death himself. Few storylines could be more calculated to appeal to the German character. But Russia before the Bolshevik revolution was receptive to pan-European influence, and Berlioz’s programmatic Symphonie fantastique was a delayed smash hit. The conductor Mily Balakirev encouraged Berlioz to produce a similar treatment of “Manfred.” Receiving no encouragement, he suggested it to his friend Tchaikovsky instead.
For an encore, Petrenko launched the orchestra into an entr’acte from Lady Macbeth by Shostakovich — a breathless, bumptious riot piece that left the audience smiling and even laughing.
Tchaikovsky didn’t think he could do better than Schumann’s setting of Manfred (this poem really got around). And he didn’t particularly like the story, which was too cold for his taste. But he eventually became absorbed in the project and the result is distinct in his repertoire, containing much beyond what he would have attempted elsewhere. It is a gigantic piece, an hour long. The last movement contains a roiling fugue, and an organ joins the orchestra in the final moments. Tchaikovsky at first considered Manfred his greatest achievement. Later, he called it a failure and wanted to destroy the score. Most of its best moments are in the first two movements — in particular the scherzo, which requires almost unparalleled crispness from an orchestra. It was here that Petrenko delivered his finest work and earned a deserved ovation.
For an encore, Petrenko launched the orchestra into an entr’acte from Lady Macbeth by Shostakovich — a breathless, bumptious riot piece that left the audience smiling and even laughing. Russian composers may fare best with a German touch. It is ironic but satisfying to see it come from a Russian baton.