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RECITAL REVIEW
Discoveries, Surprises in Chopin
October 27, 2002
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By Anatole Leikin
An all-Chopin recital is an infrequent fete and treat nowadays. No wonder the audience filled Davies Hall to near capacity Sunday evening to hear one of San Francisco's adopted sons, Garrick Ohlsson, play Chopin all evening long. Although a one-composer program, it was diverse both in contents and results.
Ohlsson devoted much of the program to dances — Waltzes,
Mazurkas, and a Polonaise. The Waltzes, Op. 34, No. 1, and Opus 42 (both in A-flat major), were graceful and witty, filled with little impish counterpoints illuminated by Ohlsson. Humor in Chopin remains largely overlooked, so it was particularly enjoyable to hear Chopin's under-appreciated lighter side so well
executed.
The four Mazurkas, Op. 6, came as even more surprise. Many concert
pianists stay away from Chopin's Mazurkas, which is understandable.
There are no technical difficulties to conquer, no virtuosity to
display, and too many rhythmic and accentual pitfalls to deal with.
Pianists who have not grown up in a Slavic country, additionally
face a tremendous task of coping with the elusive national idiom of
the mazurkas. For instance, Mazurkas recorded by Samson François are
gorgeous but still have a foreign accent. Amazingly, Ohlsson's
Mazurkas spoke in their native tongue. They had all the right
agogics and accents. Moreover, they also had a vast range of
expression, from whimsical and coquettish to energetic and proud to
relaxed and comical to elegiac and heart-rending.
The famous Polonaise in A-flat major, Op. 53, that concluded the program, unfortunately lacked the taut rhythmic energy so evident in the other dances of the evening. It did have, however, plenty of splendid finger work, which had also dazzled the audience in Etudes Op. 10 Nos. 4, 9, 11, and 12. Mr. Ohlsson proceeded with these Etudes after amiably commenting to the audience on an unusually elaborate ringing tone of a cell phone that someone had forgotten to turn off. What was particularly precious in these Etudes that Mr. Ohlsson, besides his superb technical abilities, showed his flair for expressive phrasing and sinuous rubato. Not everything was equally successful. The cantilena was not sufficiently projected. This affected the Etude Op. 10 No 3 (E major) heard in the second half of the program along with the three other Etudes mentioned. This flaw similarly undermined the rendition of the Nocturne in F sharp minor, Op. 48 No. 2 and the fact that the Nocturne was played in a much slower tempo than the Andantino prescribed by the composer did not help at all. Another problematic aspect of the performance was Ohlsson's palpable effort to restrain his forte. To be sure, Chopin was known for not exceeding mezzo-forte in his own performance. But the composer was extremely frail: standing 5'7 tall, he weighed less 100 pounds. Soft playing was not the matter of choice for Chopin — he was simply physically incapable of producing big sound. Mr. Ohlsson, on the other hand, is a big, powerful man, who plays not on a delicate Pleyel in a modestly sized room, but on a modern Steinway in a huge concert hall.
The obviously intended lack of brilliance in his subdued tone resulted in an overall muted impression left by the program's two large-scale compositions — the Second Ballade, Op. 38, and the Third Sonata, Op. 58. One visual parallel with Chopin was apparent, though. In contemporary paintings, the performing composer was depicted at the keyboard with a very high wrist position. Ohlsson's wrists were similarly high and relaxed. The largest piece of the recital, the B-minor Sonata Op. 58, was uneven. This is Chopin's most ambitious work for solo piano, the longest and most complex. The sprawling mosaic of the first movement is stubbornly resistant to endeavors to create a cohesive rendition of this piece. On Sunday night, chunks of music in the first movement did not quite merge together. The most successful part of the Allegro maestoso was the thoroughly polyphonic development. Polyphony, I must say, was an outstanding feature in Ohlsson's performance. It was always well defined, never marred by excessive pedaling, and the pianist kept discovering wonderful additional voices that accompanied and enriched the main melodic line. The exquisite Scherzo was as fluid as it could be. The slow third movement, however, suffered from wanting cantilena delivery. In the middle section of the Largo, the top melody, marked in the score by longer notes, was not really floating above the murmuring eighths in the middle voice. Instead, this melody was completely buried in the busy and overbearing accompaniment. The finale was interesting, however. Breathtakingly fast, it was dancingly light, if not little lightweight. And just when I was wondering how it was possible to play it so fast so cleanly and with so many additional contrapuntal voices, he picked up the tempo toward the end!
Responding to multiple standing ovations, Mr. Ohlsson played three wonderful encores that included two Waltzes (Op. 64, No. 2, and Op. 18) and an Etude (Op. 10, No. 5). The last encore, Waltz in E-flat major, Op. 18, was a revelation. The earlier humorous musical touches made me smile occasionally. Listening to the last Waltz, I, embarrassingly, could not keep myself from laughing out loud, alternately melting down during most beautifully articulated sentimental episodes. That was unquestionably the best reading of this Waltz I have ever heard. I thought that I knew every single note in this piece, but Ohlsson's performance of Op. 18 never ceased to surprise me from the first page until the last chord. (Anatole Leikin is a pianist and musicologist, Professor and Chair of the Department of Music, University of California, Santa Cruz) ©2002 Anatole Leiken, all rights reserved |
