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Gala Reception for a Gala Opening Night New York
Isaac Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall
10/08/2024 - & October 1, 2024 (Los Angeles)
Sergei Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Opus 18
Alberto Ginastera: Estancia, Opus 8
Gustavo Castillo (Baritone), Lang Lang (Pianist)
Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Gustavo Dudamel (Music and Artistic Director, Conductor)
G. Dudamel (© Stephan Rabold)
“What is Music? How do you define it? Music is a calm moonlit night, the rustle of leaves in Summer. Music is the far-off peal of bells at dusk! Music comes straight from the heart and talks only to the heart: it is Love! Music is the Sister of Poetry and her Mother is sorrow!”
Sergei Rachmaninoff
Opening Night at Carnegie Hall was a gala affair. Half the males had tuxedos and/or black bow ties. The ladies (for such an occasion, “women” would be inappropriate) had bejeweled skirts, gold‑embossed blouses (or the other way around.) Then we had two stars from exotic climes. Lang Lang and Gustavo Dudamel.
Which means that the moment the pianist and conductor stepped on stage, the audience cheered, applauded, and one would have thought the two would have to give an encore before the major piece.
The result of the super-popular Rachmaninoff Second Concerto was uproars of appreciation, listeners up to the topmost balconies standing and acclaiming the performance.
L. Lang (© Olaf Heine)
So now this curmudgeon has to put a damper on the show. Yes, Lang Lang has succeeded in honing his spectacular technique so it’s no longer mere showmanship. But no, this was not great Rachmaninoff at all.
From the start, the chords were ponderous, uneven. Somewhere I read that the composer was looking for bell‑like sonorities. Lang Lang could have been playing timpani drums.
The rest of the movement varied between very fast (dazzling finger‑work) to unbearable slowness. Although the Rachmaninoff quote above is terribly mawkish, the energy of that great pianist with the huge hands was originally never‑ending.
Lang Lang had moments of his own brilliance frequently, yet he compartmentalized his emotions rather offering cohesion.
The second movement was suitably slow, suitably sustained, and Gustavo Dudamel kept the Los Angeles Philharmonic equally restrained. Yet Lang Lang, rather than allowing the original romance, pulled endless rubatos out of his hat. It would be shameless to call him Lang Languid. But after the mid‑movement trills, he paused for too many seconds, then paused and played and paused and played.
The finale allows any pianist to take license with the Full Moon and Empty Arms theme. The great ones, though, give that theme an orchestral intensity, and that was missing.
I feel personally bad about those words. The faults were not those of Lang Lang. This was his picture of the Concerto, and a man of his digital brilliance is permitted. Others satisfy more by giving even the most saccharine passages a patina of endearing richness.
G. Castillo (© Fernando Dàvid)
Without an intermission, conductor Dudamel launched into a work which must have given him unalloyed pleasure. And while doubt if any member of the audience (including me) had ever heard the complete version of Estancia, that pleasure was infectious.
The explanation is that Estancia, like de Falla’s Three‑Cornered Hat is a ballet with a specific story. The second explanation is that Ginastera had written a work which needed, which demanded live dancers performing the Argentine steps to the volcanic music.
While Maestro Dudamel lacked dancers, he did have an extraordinary soloist in his fellow Venezuelan, Gustavo Castillo. If one hadn’t read the program beforehand, his recitative-arias would mean nothing. But Mr. Castillo’s baritone voice was powerful, unendingly muscular, his gestures dramatic, the timbre welcoming and joyful.
As for Mr. Dudamel, he led the Los Angeles Philharmonic, augmented with timpani, cymbals and boom‑sounding bass drum, through its wild dances. Like any ballet, some sections were meaningless. But by the time of the final “Malambo” dance, Ginastera and Dudamel had left resemblances to de Falla and Stravinsky far behind in a blistering finale.
Estancia hardly needed an encore, but Mr. Dudamel took his fine orchestra through a John Philips Sousa march. Other audiences might clap to the rhythms. But this distinguished Gala Opening Night audience was quietly gratified by the powerful American sounds in themselves.
Harry Rolnick
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