| FESTIVAL REVIEW Bach's Elusive Magic June 28, 2002
|
By Janos Gereben EUGENE - "The devil is in the details," goes the old adage. When Helmuth Rilling is on the podium, it is clear that so are the angels. Details account for much of what's bad and good; much but not all. In a brilliant paradox, however, the Oregon Bach Festival artistic director excels in presenting the wholeness of a work, while digging deep for the meaning, the full realization of every phrase, every note.
On Friday night, when Rilling opened the 33rd season of the festival he had co-founded with Royce Saltzman, there were amazing, thrilling instances in Hult Center of both the macro and micro treatments in the presentation of the greatest Bach of them all, the B Minor Mass.
Rilling, his soloists, spectacular orchestra and Kathy Romey's world-class festival chorus once again helped to bring forth beauty in the sense of Thomas Mann's definition: that which alone is both divine and visible . . . or, in this case, audible. In Rilling's interpretation, this combination Mass and Passion deals with the divine in a continuous arch of meaning, more than of chronology, in terms of majestic beauty.
Beneath the cathedral structure, Rilling drills down to minute details, reveals subtext under subtext. Others may gloss over the strange, meandering harmonies before the D-Major explosion of the Resurrection; Rilling brings into focus fractional glimpses foreshadowing, intimating, hoping for that fulfillment. Of the umpteen repetitions of Hosanna, Rilling gives freshness, individuality to each. In the complete fusion of all musical forces in the concluding Dona Nobis Pacem, you can still focus on individual instruments and hear them both as separate voices and as parts of the fabric.
But here comes the strange part: of the dozen-plus Rilling B Minor Mass performances I have heard (among the 11 he presided over in Eugene and more than 200 elsewhere), Friday night's was not among the best. How is that possible — if the whole of the work is done so well and if the details are all worked out, what else is there? It's difficult to say, but when it's there, you know it. It's the X Factor, the click, the transformation of a performance into something overwhelming, when you stop taking stock and lose yourself in the music. It didn't quite happen this time, not for me, anyway. I think if only there could be another performance, it might. In the event, from the excessively heavy, plodding, earthbound Kyrie, to a weak Confiteor (which did develop into a breathtaking, hushed last line) through good but not great choral performances in the dramatic heart of the work, the Credo, magic at times was promised, not delivered. I missed the "click" all the more because entrances were crisp, cutoffs flawless — there were no "mistakes" — and there were many reminders of the times when it all came together better. (Returning visitors will notice both the visual change in Silva Hall, the strange high backs of seats lowered a couple of inches, and a good deal of new brightness in the sound.) Collectively, there could have been more, but there were many personal triumphs. Among the soloists, it was Ingeborg Danz's apotheosis, the alto surpassing all her remarkable previous performances. She doesn't seem to sing anymore, the voice pours forth from some unknown, unseen source. Her projection is simply incredible — there is no "volume" or effort, the voice just reaches out and envelops the hall. I have never heard her try less and excel more. Thomas Quasthoff, of course, has been practicing this kind of witchcraft for a long time and this performance was no exception. Quoniam and Et in Spiritum Sanctum were both simple and moving. The soprano, Karina Gauvin, is young and promising; she sang well, but sounded somewhat generic: no significant individuality is present yet. Christopher Cock is advertised as a tenor, but his take was that of a male alto, not right for the role. The B Minor is arguably the most instrumental of Bach Masses, and the small orchestra was phenomenal, the many obbligati all to treasure. Lorna McGhee's flute soared high twice in major roles; Guy Few astonished both with his trumpet and with the festival-commissioned corno da caccia; concertmaster Elizabeth Baker's obbligato for Laudamus made time stop. Among the hardest-working and most effective instrumentalists: John Steinmetz, both as continuo and in several bassoon obbligati; oboists Allan Vogel, Kimaree Gilad and Marsha Taylor. The elements, the talent, the willingness, the dedication were all there.One coordinate for a stellar journey was missing. Otherwise, all was well with the world.
(Janos Gereben, a regular contributor to www.sfcv.org, is arts editor of the Post Newspaper Group. His e-mail address is janos451@earthlink.net.) ©2002 Janos Gereben, all rights reserved |
