Triumph in Sonata Form

András Schiff continued his traversal of the 32 Beethoven sonatas Sunday with a program that included two of the high points of the composer's middle period. At one end was the Sonata Op. 57, the "Appassionata" (1805), the work that surely marks the peak of the "heroic" Beethoven's piano output. At the other end was the less heroic and more vulnerable work, Sonata Op. 81a ("Les Adieux"), dating from 1810.

The three remaining sonatas on the San Francisco Symphony–presented program can be viewed as more or less charming diversions at a time when Beethoven was gearing up for big public pieces like the Fifth Symphony and the Fifth Piano Concerto, as well as the most direct expression of his heroic and deep personal sentiment: his sole opera, Fidelio. The program, at Davies Symphony Hall, began whimsically. The Sonata Op. 54, in F major, is the last one to include a Minuet. In the eras of Mozart and Haydn, this innocuous little dance had been used to keep the audience on its toes, and even serves as a finale in many of their works. By contrast, Beethoven uses it to lighten up after a somber slow movement, as in his early Sonata Op. 10, No. 3, and then transforms the waltz of the Diabelli Variations into a minuet in a mock return to an earlier period. To begin with a minuet in 1805, after composing the "Eroica" Symphony and the "Waldstein" Sonata, is more than a little arch, considering that it completely circumvents the Beethoven doctrine of the Sonata-Allegro first movement. Here, it becomes the butt of a joke, for it is contradicted by pounding octaves as if to say, "Enough of that sissy stuff!" Schiff reveled in these absurd juxtapositions of character and then played the perpetual-motion finale with a steady, rollicking rhythm. It was great fun and amply demonstrated one of the pianist's great strengths: his rock-solid sense of tempo. In the mighty "Appassionata," the sense of total control was also present, but here I am not so sure that the tempestuous character of the music was well served. The swirling masses of sound were marvelous to behold, and in the eye of the storm you could always count each note in the deluge of arpeggios. I longed for more abandon — apres moi, le deluge. In a piece that teeters on the brink of disaster, surely a sense of risk is crucial to experiencing the terror and power of nature that animates this desperate and tragic work. The solemn slow movement in the major key is like a prayer for deliverance that is interrupted at the final cadence by a questioning diminished chord, after which the final struggle begins. Schiff accomplished this with a time-stopping slowness. When all hell finally broke loose, every fiery furnace was at the precise degree of temperature, and through it all the artist remained totally composed. How it all ends is an open question. It would appear to have been in triumph, judging by the reception the audience gave to Schiff's performance. In any case, he did a masterful job on those machine-gun chords when he reached the Presto.

Lyrical Ludwig

After intermission came two of the "slighter" sonatas, excursions that show Beethoven in his most genial frame of mind. Like Op. 54, the sonata Op. 78 in F-sharp is a two-movement wonder with a lyrical first movement and a somewhat giddy finale. Schiff played them with hardly a break, and the last movement went at breakneck speed. I didn't feel the snap in the two-note slurs, which he played almost together much of time. In the next sonata, Op. 79 in G major, the "Presto a la tedesca," meant to be a quick German dance, began right on the heels of the last flourishes of the preceding piece. (Please, a little more time for us to don our dancing shoes!) The tempo also seemed too slow to warrant those silly grace notes at the end. Schiff more than made up for this with the truly magical slow movement. He evoked a languorous Italian barcarolle full of romantic sighs (oh, for more of these) and a sheer loveliness of tone that instantly transported us to the southern climes. The sonata in E-flat, "Les Adieux," which Beethoven insisted also be titled Das Lebwohl, places us firmly back on German soil and onto the paths that led to the glories and mysteries of the composer's late period. Its programmatic content — movements titled "Farewell," "Absence," and "Return" — mark it as a true forerunner of the Romantic period. Once again, Schiff broke the spell of the lighthearted finale of Op. 79 by beginning the "Farewell" without pause. This succeeded because the sudden modulation to C flat was so masterfully done, and deeply felt, that I was sure that this was a piece close to the performer's heart. I was, however, a bit disappointed by the absence of real longing in the "Absence" (second) movement. The sense of waiting seemed oddly detached, as if we were merely waiting for the next movement to occur, rather than a beloved person to return. This seems the emotional heart of the piece, and no amount of jubilation in the finale can quite convince us if we don't feel real anguish there. The transition to the finale, as in the "Appassionata," is meant to be played without break; Schiff was once again the master, and the wait was worth it. All the sonatas done, we were rewarded with a substantial encore: the finale of Schumann's Fantasy in C Major, in the early version, which contains a quote from Beethoven's Songs to the Distant Beloved. It was lovely, though out of context it seemed too little, too late. Still, it left me looking forward to late Beethoven.