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SYMPHONY REVIEW Midori vs. SFSO December 11, 2002
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By Nikki Buechler
Midori's Mendelssohn, performed with panache last Wednesday with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, offered audience members a rare glimpse into what is often the real role of the conductor: damage limitation. Keeping things together is harder than it looks, and for twenty-three year old Finnish guest conductor Mikko Franck, this was not an easy assignment. Faced with the unenviable task of having to decide at any given moment whether to follow the soloist or anticipate her, it soon became clear that, in the faster movements at least, he had difficulty predicting her next moves. Midori did it her way, which is exactly what she should have done, but at times it seemed like she was forcibly dragging Franck and the entire symphony behind her.
The orchestra was up to the task, which made the experience all the more frustrating. While there were some beautiful moments where orchestra and soloist were synchronized, these were underpinned by the unsettling feeling that something could go wrong at any moment. Some delicate passages, in the last movement especially, were not at all together, and the soloist was ahead of the orchestra in every instance. Conductors are notorious for being credited with performances that succeeded, sometimes despite them, not because of them; conversely, where there are difficulties between soloist and orchestra, it is the conductor that must accept responsibility, especially when the soloist is as experienced as Midori.
Midori did not disappoint. She did exactly what her publicist promised: she breathed new life into this old favorite. She practically danced, her small frame responding to the music, her sound revealing remarkable awareness of the nuances of each phrase. The slow movement was intense, with rich, reaching lines rising out of the orchestra's warm, supportive accompaniment. Outer movements were an impressive display of dazzling technique. She managed, mostly, to stay audible, despite the tendency of the orchestra to overplay.
This, again, was a problem that can be attributed to the novice conductor. His gestures are flamboyant, unnecessarily enormous. Bigger gestures mean bigger sound, so the orchestra was not at fault in their interpretation. Absurdly large gesticulations might have been attributable to nerves, except that even in the pieces where he was obviously more comfortable, Sibelius Four Legends, his indications remained unorthodox in their proportions, as well as in style. A solo cello's fading note punctuated by the single, soft pizzicato of the strings ends the second movement, ‘The Swan of Tuonela,” but Franck's arms were above his head when he gave the pizzicato cue, a gesture an orchestra might reliably expect during fanfares involving trumpets and drums. Both the first piece on the program, Rautavaara's Adagio celeste and the Four Legends, were considerably more successful than the Mendelssohn, though it is worth noting that at least some of this success can be attributed to the capability of the orchestra. The strings produced rich, dark textures, creating somber, lugubrious effects, but it was the winds that impressed that evening. Though they had much more difficulty than the strings in the concerto, probably owing to an inability to see the soloist as much as they needed to, they made a complete recovery during the intermission. There were many exceptionally beautiful moments in the Sibeilus, and all performers made the effort to do justice to the second half of the program. One thing this conductor can offer is youthful exuberance, something that was oddly audible in the music. Nevertheless, he was very fortunate to have been working with such an experienced orchestra that evening.
(Nikki Buechler is a PhD student at the music department at Stanford University. She has a Master's degree from St Catherine's College, Oxford, and spent 5 years working as a viola player in chamber groups, orchestras and as an occasional soloist in London, England.)
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Midori
Mikko Frank
