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RECITAL REVIEW
March 15, 2007
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Schumann Meets Doctor Atomic By Janos Gereben
Music critics are seldom in collusion, but it was a sure bet that every review of Gerald Finley's Thursday recital in Herbst Theatre would invoke the opera in which he had made his San Francisco debut. The singer has an indelible association with the work and, especially, "that scene" he created two years ago in the War Memorial Opera House, in John Adams' Doctor Atomic.
"Batter my heart, three-person'd God ..." he sang, downstage, as close to the audience as physically possible, and yet his face — in silhouette — was almost invisible. Finley seemed doubled over in dark, convulsive ecstasy, in the grip of the Trinity's conflicting forces. The singer embraced and brought to life John Donne's terrifying vision, "to break, blow, burn, and make me new." As J. Robert Oppenheimer, contemplating the bomb about to unleash unpredictable energy, Finley moved spasmodically to the overpowering music's rhythm, his clear, warm, powerful, and seductive voice soaring through the house:
It was a new operatic milestone, this scene, and we in the audience on opening night all knew it instantly and with certainty. It was in the category of Lorraine Hunt whispering "Addio Roma" with majesty even in utter defeat (The Coronation of Poppea), Leonie Rysanek hissing power and venom as Ortrud (Lohengrin), Gosta Winbergh's desperate Idomeneo, melting hearts. And so, awaiting Finley's recital debut here, how could that memory not be uppermost in the minds of the listeners?
And then, after a considerable — and surprising — time lag, Finley fulfilled expectations, with the stark drama of Walt Whitman's Civil War diary/poetry in Ned Rorem's War Scenes — "What scene is this? — is this indeed humanity — these butchers' shambles? There they lie, in an open space in the woods, 300 poor fellows, the groans and screams mixed with the fresh scent of the night, that slaughterhouse!" Once again, Finley was overwhelming the listener. Baritones come in many flavors — lyric, heroic, Verdian — but Finley seems to have a unique fach of "dramatic-powerful-hold-you-by-the-throat." And that's why the first half of the concert didn't work. There are many equally valid ways of interpreting Schumann's song cycle Dichterliebe (A Poet’s Love), but Finley's "work in progress" didn't fill the bill. The songs have a tremendous variety — from the enchantment of "Rose, Lily" to the heartbreak of "I bear no grudge" — but the cycle itself is a tremendous gestalt. Finley, not approaching the music from the inside but rather storming it from a distance, broke the cycle up. "In the wonderous month of May" was glacial, "Rose, Lily" way too fast, almost grotesquely so. Finley's helden-baritone edge showed up here, his warm-elegant tone there. Julius Drake's accompaniment didn't help much — too loud, almost raw at times, this was a pianist calling attention to himself, a real no-no in a lieder recital. Drake didn't improve on the initial impression he made, but Finley turned things around, first with wonderful Ives songs, then the Rorem cycle, and finally with a group of Barber songs. Loud and angry, which sounded inappropriate in Dichterliebe, was just the ticket in Ives' Swimmers. Finley took the über-syncopated Side Show in stride and he tackled with ease The Greatest Man, one of Ives' most dissonant works. We had our Doctor Atomic back, but only after he fairly nuked Schumann.
(Janos Gereben is a regular contributor to San Francisco Classical Voice. His e-mail address is janosg@gmail.com.)
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