http://bsrserver.com/index.php/site/index/ "Where Art and Ideas Meet" • Philadelphia, PA • Dan Rottenberg, Editor en drottenberg@broadstreetreview.com Copyright 2013 2013-05-18T21:13:02-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/rattle_and_hannigan_with_the_philadelphia_orchestra/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/rattle_and_hannigan_with_the_philadelphia_orchestra/#When:18:22:18Z Simon Rattle, conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra’s penultimate concert of the season, reminded us that it’s easier for a visiting conductor to choose the road less traveled than for the helmsman of the Orchestra, for whom the risk of empty seats is not to be taken lightly. Philadelphia Orchestra: Anton Webern, Passacaglia, Op. 1; Alban Berg, Three Fragments from Wozzeck; Gyorgy Ligeti, Mysteries of the Macabre; Beethoven, Symphony #6 in F, Op. 68 (“Pastorale”). Barbara Hannigan, soprano; Simon Rattle, conductor.  May 16-18 at Verizon Hall, Kimmel Center, Broad and Spruce St. (215) 893-1999 or www.philorch.org. The Philadelphia Orchestra’s season is winding down. It begins a month later than the New York Philharmonic’s and ends a month sooner, a reminder of the Orchestra Association’s continuing financial woes. This year has marked the beginning of Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s tenure as music director, a generally successful one artistically. Some of Nézet-Séguin’s preferences have started to become clear. He seems fond of requiems, one hopes without undue symbolic implications. Otherwise, however, his programming choices have fallen decidedly on the safe side. There is financial calculation in that, too.  There is also a cost. The point was driven home for this reviewer by Sir Simon Rattle’s second concert with the Orchestra, the penultimate one of the season.  Rattle put together a varied and idiosyncratic program. He tends to do that, but then it’s easier for a visiting conductor to choose the road less traveled than for the helmsman of the Orchestra, for whom the risk of empty seats is not to be taken lightly. Wagner’s shadow Rattle opened the concert with two ill-fated composers from the Second Viennese School, Anton Webern and Alban Berg. Webern, stepping outside for a smoke in occupied Vienna at the end of World War II, was killed by an American soldier for violating a curfew. Berg died of a bee sting. Fate has an odd sense of humor. Webern began as a post-Romantic composer before adopting Schoenberg’s 12-tone system of composition and becoming a musical pointillist whose mature works, employing the sparest of textures, all run under ten minutes in length. Webern did write a symphony, which he believed would be a full-length work requiring a good half hour to perform. It actually clocks in at less than a third that time. When Webern is performed, it is most often his early, pre-serialist Im Sommerwind, a warm and ingratiating work that makes no heavy demand on the listener. Rattle chose the less frequently played Passacaglia, Op. 1, a ten-minute score that, beginning with the softest of pizzicati, deploys a large orchestra with great virtuosity and assurance.  Wagner lurks heavily in the background, and there are accents of Scriabin and Reger. It’s the kind of densely weighted and perhaps overwrought work in which tonality appears to be torn apart like taffy. One can well imagine a young Stravinsky resolving to write music as completely unlike it as possible. The later Webern did as well, although he never quite left Romanticism behind— rather, he miniaturized it.  Still, the Passacaglia is worth the occasional hearing: Stokowski premiered it with the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1927, but it wasn’t heard again until Mark Wigglesworth (another visiting conductor) performed it in 1999. Everyman of the Great War The Passacaglia was followed by the Three Fragments from Berg’s opera Wozzeck, one of the essential dramatic works of the 20th Century. The Fragments were not arranged from the opera subsequent to stage performance, but were extracted and performed prior to the premiere in 1925. They focus not on Wozzeck himself, the hero whom Berg conceived as the Everyman of World War I, but on his suffering mistress Marie and her child.  In a way, the Fragments represent a re-imagination of the work as a whole, in which the music is employed to highlight the female protagonist. When heard at a distance of nearly nine decades, it fuses musical Expressionism with the lushness of a post-Romantic orchestra. If Stravinsky set out to be the anti-Wagner, Berg turns Wagner on his head in another way, using the Wagnerian orchestra not to depict the heroes and gods who represent bourgeois society in distress but that society’s proletarian victims. Hannigan transformed The coloratura soprano Barbara Hannigan, in blond tresses and a sweeping gown, sang Marie sensitively, though she seemed insufficiently miked at times. The great orchestral crescendo in which the music rises above the action of the drama to a tragic apotheosis was shiveringly good. After intermission, a transformed Hannigan came out in a jet-black wig and Weimar cabaret costume to match— a black leatherette overcoat, tight black sheath and spiked heels— to perform another operatic excerpt, this time from Gyorgy Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre, which depicts an apocalyptic dystopia.  Such a genre had a long pedigree; Wozzeck might be considered an example from a certain angle, and certainly Kurt Weill’s The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny and Vikto Ullmann’s The Emperor of Atlantis, a work composed in the Theresienstadt concentration camp by a composer who perished in Auschwitz. Ligeti, who is probably best known for having (involuntarily) supplied music for three Stanley Kubrick films (most notably 2001), was himself a Holocaust survivor as well as a denizen of Stalinist Hungary, which would have offered him copious material. Podium fight The Mysteries of the Macabre is a nine-minute romp in which Hannigan offers a bizarre Sprechstimme of nonsense phrases, squawks, pips and vocal leaps that make her absurdist character— a chief of police— sound like Mozart’s Queen of the Night on LSD. While singing the notes on perfect pitch, Hannigan discards her coat, pushes Rattle off the podium to mock-conduct a parody of Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra, and gets booted off in turn by the maestro. The music supporting these goings-on, rendered by a chamber-sized complement heavy on percussion, was witty and surprisingly delicate.  A concert performance of the entire opera in its 1997 revision was offered three years ago by the New York Philharmonic. It would be nice to hear the Philadelphians take a crack at it— or, better yet, to have a full operatic staging— but I keep forgetting that Philadelphia isn’t New York; it’s Paris. There was method in Rattle’s seeming madness, not only in continuity of theme between Wozzeck and Mysteries of the Macabre, as this excerpt was titled, but in the careers of the three modern composers, for Ligeti had started out as a 12-tone disciple before moving through the experimentalism of the Stockhausen school and finally settling on the atmospheric soundscapes that attracted Kubrick, and on which Ligeti’s reputation for the moment chiefly rests. Idiosyncratic Beethoven The program concluded with Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, a work from another sonic world entirely. The period instrument revival has meant a leaner, more classical approach to Beethoven in general, but Rattle took the reverse tack, reading the score backwards through the prism of Wagner and Richard Strauss. The result, with blended tones and a marshaling of Romantic effects, was more like a four-movement tone poem than a work composed while Haydn was still alive. It wasn’t everyone’s Beethoven, to be sure, but the Kimmel Center audience loved it. The Pastoral is a score unlike any other Beethoven symphony, with its lyric warmth and proto-Romantic scene painting. Rattle wanted to make us see it as a model for the Forest Murmurs from Siegfried or the Strauss Alpine Symphony, and he made his case, even at some expense to an ideally balanced presentation. Good news What, though, is an “ideal” Beethoven? If we can look back to see Beethoven as a bearer and re-shaper of the classical tradition— the period instrument approach— why can’t we see him as an influence in turn on even late Romantic composers? The one thing we’ll never be able to do is to hear Beethoven as his first audience did in 1808 at that titanic concert that featured the premieres of both the Fifth and Sixth symphonies, as well as the Choral Fantasy. We must hear with our ears, not theirs, and that means with everything that has come since Beethoven as well as all that went before. A weak horn entrance in the third movement of the Beethoven aside, the Orchestra gave Rattle everything he wanted by way of a burnished, responsive tone. The good news is that, in its first year since bankruptcy, the Orchestra is still a glorious instrument, the best efforts of its administration to destroy its cohesiveness and morale notwithstanding.  Nézet-Séguin must be given some credit for this recovery, but the chief reason is the pride and professionalism of the musicians themselves. Performing under duress, with reduced wages and benefits, they have still maintained the Orchestra as one of the world’s premier cultural institutions. Would that the city itself were worthy of its treasure. Music & Opera 2013-05-18T18:22:18-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/verdis_macbeth_in_wilmington/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/verdis_macbeth_in_wilmington/#When:21:13:02Z With Macbeth, Verdi wasn’t merely adapting a great work of literature; he was nudging history forward in real time. Macbeth. Opera by Giuseppe Verdi; Giovanni Reggioli conducted; Cindy Du Pont Tobias directed. Opera Delaware production May 5-11, 2013 at The Grand, 818 N. Market St., Wilmington, Del. (800) 374-7263 or www.operade.org. Verdi’s Macbeth isn’t merely an operatic adaptation of Shakespeare’s drama. It also represents Verdi’s channeling of Italy’s mid-19th Century Risorgimento, or resurgence of freedom from foreign domination. Either way, it’s an impressive work. Verdi kept a complete set of Shakespeare’s plays (in Italian translation) in his bedroom, and he used the Bard’s scripts as inspiration for three of his best operas (Macbeth, Otello, Falstaff) as well as one more that he never completed, King Lear. In each he hewed faithfully to Shakespeare’s words and figures of speech. But an equally important element in Macbeth is the parallel between Malcolm’s and MacDuff’s struggle for liberation from Macbeth and the similar struggles of Verdi’s countrymen against the Habsburgs at the time Macbeth opened in 1846. Verdi was active in the freedom movement led by Giuseppe Garibaldi; the composer’s name was used as a rallying cry by Italians who wanted their own nation under Victor Emmanuel as king. (Verdi’s name made a convenient acronym for “Vittorio Emanuele Re D’Italia.”) Verdi’s operas immediately preceding Macbeth were best known for their hymns about freedom: the chorus of Hebrew slaves in Nabucco, and the chorus of Crusaders intent on liberating the Holy Land in I Lombardi. These found echoes in Macbeth with Verdi’s lament for Scottish refugees, Patria oppressa (“Oppressed homeland”). Improving on Shakespeare Verdi also wrote gorgeous choruses bemoaning the murder of King Duncan in Act I and celebrating freedom at the end. And in 1865, four years after the Kingdom of Italy was established, he added a final chorus proclaiming victory over a tyrant, ”Salva, o re!” (“Hail, oh King”). Verdi wasn’t merely adapting a great work of literature; he was nudging history in real time. It can be argued that Verdi’s added choruses actually improved upon Shakespeare— not only in Macbeth, but also in Act I of Otello, where the triumphant Otello is cheered by adoring crowds, and in Act III of Falstaff, where a large throng mocks the fat knight and then sings that “everything in the world is a jest.” Opera Delaware’s recent handsome production offered impressive sets built locally, and sensible direction by Cindy Du Pont Tobias. Unlike the Met’s new production of Macbeth, which conflates time and place and transforms the Scottish women into modern-day bag ladies, here the locale clearly was old Scotland. Exciting new face The baritone Grant Youngblood— who has sung at the Met, but not in roles as starry as this— made a world-class Macbeth, with a fine, well-projected voice and an appealing ability to convey the conflict between his ambitions and his conscience. It’s still hard to believe the speed with which Macbeth decides to assassinate King Duncan, not to mention the wholesale murders he orders as the story progresses— but that’s Verdi’s fault, not Youngblood’s. As Lady Macbeth, Courtney Ames, emerged as a force to be reckoned with— not only in the plot but as an exciting new personality in the world of opera. Her youth and attractiveness masked her malevolence, yet she sang with a fierceness that accentuated her evilness, only to exhibit pathetic vulnerability in her last-act sleepwalking “mad aria.” Lady Macbeth is an extremely difficult role; it even intimidated Maria Callas, and it played a role in her firing by the Met’s boss, Rudolf Bing, in 1958. Yet Ames sailed into the part fearlessly, almost recklessly— just like Lady Macbeth, come to think of it. Her top notes soared above all the rest of the ensemble, just as Verdi intended. Classic opera house Ben Wager, a 2009 graduate of the Academy of Vocal Arts, made an appealing Banquo; his farewell aria to his son was one of the production’s highlights. Giovanni Reggioli conducted with an appropriately restless surge that built up the tension of the story and the music. This company performs in The Grand, a beautiful small house (capacity about 800), modeled after Europe’s classic theaters. Its intimate size might not suit a later Verdi opera like Aida, which sometimes calls for large animals onstage, but its ambience is perfect for 18th- and 19th-century operas like this one. Music & Opera 2013-05-18T21:13:02-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/philip_dawkinss_failure_a_love_story/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/philip_dawkinss_failure_a_love_story/#When:19:18:40Z Failure: A Love Story is an enchanting poetic fable in which members of the Fail family make the most of life‘s tragedies by spinning their own narratives to turn back the clock. Failure: A Love Story. By Philip Dawkins; Allison Heishman directed. Through May 26, 2013 at Azuka Theatre, 1636 Sansom St. (215) 563-1100 or www.azukatheatre.org. Life is a journey, death a destination. Failure: A Love Story is an enchanting little poetic fable in which the Fail family negotiates its short but happy trip. As the title suggests, none of the characters actually achieves the desired consummation; but they do enjoy some romance during their brief earthly sojourn. The time is 1900, 1928 and several years before, after and in between. The scene is The Fail Clockworks, established by an immigrant couple in 1900 near the docks in Chicago. The quirky action jumps back and forth in time like a clock gone haywire, or like life itself, lived in the present and past simultaneously (since memory colors experience). Search for love This is a lighthearted production, notwithstanding the premature demise of the Fail sisters Nelly (Mary Beth Shrader), Jenny June (Tabitha Allen) and Gertrude (Isa St. Clair). Only the two men in their lives survive into old age: John N. Fail (Brendan Dalton), who is washed up on shore as a baby and adopted by the Fail household; and Mortimer Mortimer (Kevin Meehan), the earnest gentleman caller who loves each of the sisters in turn. A marvelous cast of young actors briskly directed by Azuka Theatre’s resident director, Allison Heishman double as narrators, enacting the scenes and stories of their past lives in keeping with what Heishman calls “the hidden love story of our play, the love of telling stories.” Here the stories include Mortimer Mortimer’s bittersweet fruitless search for love, the affecting loneliness of his “almost brother-in-law,” John N. Fail, Nelly’s silly but fetching girlishness, and Jenny June’s boldly optimistic goal of swimming across the rough and freezing waters. River of time Other important if inanimate characters occupy this household as well: a few birds, a snake named Moses and a dog called Pal, each ingeniously made from fabrics. A scarf and a jacket take on many guises. A long and wide sheath of blue cloth assumes the principal role of the river of time that sweeps away lives and years. (It’s actually Lake Michigan in its earliest form.) Music too, emanates from an old Victrola, and some vintage songs, like “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” add nostalgia for past eras. Since the passage of time is the recurrent theme, clocks and timepieces abound in Lindsay Meyer’s minimal but effective set. If Philip Dawkins’s script contains a few too many time-related puns, they are easily forgiven. The lighting by Robin Stamey, the costumes by Amanda Sharp and the sound by Toby Pettit all contribute to a memorable evening whose theme— storytelling as a key to surviving human tragedy—resonates long after the play ends. Theater 2013-05-18T19:18:40-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/here_lies_love_imelda_marcos_in_new_york/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/here_lies_love_imelda_marcos_in_new_york/#When:17:12:51Z How could an entire starving nation fall under the sway of a dazzling charlatan like Imelda Marcos? The disco-style poporetta Here Lies Love will seduce you in much the same way. Unfortunately, it neglects to address the greatest irony of all: what happened to Imelda after the music stopped. Here Lies Love. Concept and lyrics by David Byrne; Alex Timbers directs. Through June 30, 2013 at the Public Theater, 425 Lafayette S., New York, www.publictheater.org. Beware of Alex Timbers. He’s a dangerous director. He’ll lure you down to Lower Manhattan’s Public Theater with the seductive title of his new disco-style poporetta, Here Lies Love. There, he’ll get you dancing, partying and having the time of your life to music by the rocker David Byrne, formerly frontman for the Talking Heads. Only too late will you realize that, in doing so, you’ve become an accomplice to one of the 20th Century’s most infamous political regimes. For Here Lies Love concerns the dramatic rise and fall of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, who reigned over the Philippines from 1969 to 1986. For the first half of this production’s wild 90-minute ride, Timbers makes you fall in love with a First Lady best remembered today for acquiring more than 1,000 pairs of shoes— not to mention at least 15 mink coats, 500 ball gowns and 1,000 handbags— while most of her country starved. Talking about shoes: Wear sneakers and check your bags at the door, because this theater has no seats and you’ll never, ever, sit down or stop moving. For this production, one of the venues of the Public Theater has been converted into a disco club– a long rectangular room featuring stages on either end, with moveable raised runways lining the sides and stretching down the center. Cinderella meets Evita As you enter, the disco ball shimmers, the music pounds, the colored strobe lights throb, and images of Imelda flash across giant screens mounted on all four walls. People are milling everywhere, and you go with the flow of it, moving with the crowd and gazing at the images above and around you. Then the DJ perched high on the balcony calls out: “Welcome to Club Millennium— we’re going to the Philippines!” As the music blasts and platforms turn, 13 performers strut out onto the runways and the show begins. Mrs. Marcos’s streamlined story— a simplistic blend of Cinderella, Eliza Doolittle, and Evita— is told in continuous music and song. It begins with a fantasy scene in the Filipino provinces, featuring an innocent little “country” flower named Imelda. A flock of damsels dance dreamily, dressed in chiffon and twirling white parasols. Whirlwind courtship The scene segues into a beauty pageant, where Imelda is crowned “the Rose of Tacloban” (and later “Miss Philippines”). “Here lies love,” Imelda sings sweetly—a sentimental motif that turns desperate as the show goes on. Platforms turn again, as we follow the upwardly mobile Imelda to Manila, where she works as a shop girl and singer, continuing her meteoric rise. She’s swept off her feet by a political candidate named Ferdinand Marcos, who marries her after an 11-day whirlwind courtship. We dance at their wedding, of course, as if we don’t know what’s coming. (Sad to say, most of the audience doesn’t.) Dancers twirl, platforms whirl, and we dance through the ’60s as the Marcoses campaign for Ferdinand’s presidency, win it, serve two terms, and indulge in lavish excesses, like a fleet of yachts and a disco in the presidential palace. Dressed like Jackie Kennedy, Imelda wins hearts at home and abroad, her face featured on magazine covers all over the world. Dancing with Arafat Insatiable, Imelda dances on— now in a white Chanel coat, now in a white mink, a Martini in one hand and a vial of tranquilizers in another. She descends from the raised platform to walk among “her people”— the audience on the dance floor.  After all, it’s not only extravagance to which she’s addicted– it’s also the public’s adulation. While she dances abroad with Yassir Arafat and Ronald Reagan, at home students protest against the regime’s greed, only to be met with police brutality. Ferdinand abolishes the free press and imprisons his opposition. Aquino, Marcos’s most outspoken critic, is assassinated. Suddenly, the disco music stops. It’s 1986, the People Power Revolution erupts, and the Marcoses flee the Philippines to the deafening sounds of whirling helicopters. Stunned to silence, the audience is frozen in place. Two singers clad in rags emerge, to sing a bittersweet ballad of the country’s newfound freedom and uncertain future. One missing piece The party is over.  We file out of the theater, sobered after the orgy, guilty for our compliance in the Philippines’ troubled past. And yet, for all its clever exposition of the roots of tyranny, Here Lies Love omits one crucial element of the story: the present. And that element might very well change our view of this otherwise sensational show. After a six-year exile, during which she was acquitted by an American court for various charges (including fraud and racketeering), Imelda Marcos returned to the country she and her late husband plunged into poverty, turmoil and revolution. Within a year, she made a bid for the presidency. She was subsequently elected to Congress from Leyte, her home province, in 1995. This month, at the age of 83, she was reelected to Congress for a second term. Her own constituents, it appears, have forgotten Imelda Marcos’s story. So what does that mean, Mr. Director? Does sensation trump substance? Should we just keep dancing? Theater 2013-05-18T17:12:51-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/may_letters_pifas_publicity_machine/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/may_letters_pifas_publicity_machine/#When:07:05:19Z Readers respond about following one’s dream, doctors vs. lawyers, the Gosnell abortion case, PIFA’s publicity machine, Mozart and the Masons, George W. Bush’s library, Rufus Wainwright, arts fund-raising, South Pacific, the Terry Williams case, The Master, and the future of Classical music.. Follow your dreams?      Re “To follow your dreams, or play it safe?” by Dan Rottenberg (Editor’s Notebook)—      Nicely done, Dan— a useful and realistic follow-up to Maria Corley’s wonderful piece (“The fallacy of ‘The Voice’.”). I really like your point about starting out with what you really want to do, since it will lead you somewhere along that path— maybe not where you expect it to.      I was a religious studies major in college, and when people asked me what I planned to do with such an impractical major, I replied, “Whatever I want.” Learning to make sense of and write about abstract explorations of the human condition turned out to be a great training ground for a writer and editor. Janet Benton Wyncote, Pa. May 15, 2013      ...and the British Medical Journal lists some 40 physicians who gave up the scalpel for the pen. They— and we— are probably better off for their decision. Among them are Somerset Maugham, Arthur Conan Doyle, Michael Crichton, Anton Chekhov and A.J. Cronin. David Woods Society Hill/ Philadelphia May 15, 2013 Doctors vs. lawyers      Re “Doctors vs. lawyers,” by Dan Rottenberg (Editor’s Notebook)—      It must be wonderful to be able to view life through a microscope with a narrow focal plane. Literally thousands of lawsuits are resolved by settlement and millions of transactions are successfully negotiated every year without rancor.      I teach a course at Temple Law School, which, among other things, contains elements of the skills of successful negotiation. The principal art asserts that the key to negotiation is good behavior and the adoption of a win/win attitude.      While the adversarial system has it faults, it is far better to argue through surrogates who know how to behave rather than to “do it yourself” with the attendant consequences of personal bad feelings and other more serious behavorial misconduct.      The few failures do not prove the point. The fact is that the failures are few, which is similar to the failures in the medical system. Your analysis is flawed. Richard R. Goldberg Northern Liberties/ Philadelphia May 8, 2013      Way to go, Dan. Broadcast this beyond Broad Street. We,too, were fired up by the Ken Burns documentary on the Central Park Five. Helen Buttel Queen Village/ Philadelphia May 8, 2013      As a lawyer, I serve clients— and, truth to tell, when something cannot be settled, I have confidence in juries of 12.      Be careful when commenting on the “Central Park Five” case. The ‘confession’ of Reyes was only done after he could no longer be charged; that his DNA was found on the victim does not mean that the five were innocent— just that she was raped by six, not five. We also have to believe that Reyes acted alone.      The “faulty evidence” (your term) included videotaped confessions, with the boys’ parents present, tested thoroughly under legal standards (Miranda) and then before two juries.      Many of those arrested refused to confess and were released. Further, the five corroborated details of the event, location, etc., which they could not have done if they did not participate. W. Bourne Ruthrauff, Esq. Center City/ Philadelphia May 9, 2013      Thank you, Dan, for your article on “Doctors and lawyers.” Adversarial confrontation is no way to build healthy community. Societies that devolve into “us” and “them” are certainly not going to achieve any sense of community and will most likely rely on some false sense of “law” to keep order, leading inevitably not to a community of compassion but a state of totalitarianism.      I would have liked you to have written more on doctors. Just as the legal system needs to be more concerned with community, so does the medical system. It seems that, while lawyers still have a voice in how their profession is to progress, the voices of doctors, on the other hand, are more and more being drowned out by the drone of administrative bureaucrats who make policies that pervert genuine medical practice. The only ones being served in society are those seeking to make some profit rather than those seeking to be healed. Craig R. Tavani Phoenixville, Pa. May 8, 2013      For what it’s worth, only 17 of the 39 men who drafted the Constitution were lawyers.      They were probably the ones who drafted the Second Amendment, which would explain why it is so confusing. Andrew Kevorkian West Philadelphia May 8, 2013      I couldn’t agree with you more on your doctors vs. lawyers take. It’s one of the reasons I got out of law. There are many creative solutions to legal problems, but the adversary process gets in the way. Joseph Glantz Levittown, Pa. May 11, 2013      Comparing the lack of progress in the law to that of medicine seems to me to be confusing art with science. Law is a slowly evolving body of rules concerning the varieties of human behavior. It is aided (and occasionally misled) by science, but its foundational discipline is ethics. Modern medicine is based on the work of biologists and chemists, and developed by medical researchers rather than actual practitioners. As Dan points out, the law has had its own remarkable growth. But you can’t hope to cure human misconduct the way you can cancer, and justice is often a matter of balancing interests rather than producing clear-cut and unambiguous results.      Dan is not alone in complaining about the law’s delay and expense, as Shakespeare reminds us.  But that is partly a function of its necessary workings.  Truth in a courtroom is not as easily had as diagnosis in a doctor’s office may be.       Dan concentrates on the excesses of our adversarial legal system, which indeed has many flaws (as does the judge-based European system). But Dan doesn’t distinguish between prosecutors who try to keep the prisons full and defense attorneys whose job it is to keep it is to keep their clients out of jail.      A final point: Dan suggests that we need more counseling and treatment of offenders rather than incarceration, and I heartily agree. But medicalizing criminal behavior has its own potential for abuse, as Thomas Szasz and others have pointed out.  One has only to look at the sorry record of psychiatric imprisonment in the Soviet Union to see where that can lead. Robert Zaller Bala Cynwyd, Pa. May 8, 2013      The claim that “the medical profession today stands on the threshold of eliminating most human diseases and possibly even death itself” has been made many times over the past century and more. The end of all infectious disease, the end of cancer, the end of heart disease— the annals of medical science are as notable for the bold announcements as for the signal failures.      You could create a nice little gallery with Time cover stories heralding the end of cancer from the magazine’s early years to the present. Yet the U.S. government’s “war against cancer,” spearheaded by the National Institutes of Health with billions of taxpayer dollars, has not in any way diminished the mortality and morbidity associated with cancer, except through the gaming of “five year survivor” data, in which the medical profession credits itself with “prolonging” the lives of people from the moment it diagnoses their cancers, even though these people do not in fact live any longer because of their expensive, quality-of-life-destroying treatment.      The legal profession deserves all the scorn you heap on it, and more. But medicine does not deserve your absurd praise. Take a look at the increase in antibiotic resistant infections. Consider why routine mammograms and PSA tests are no longer recommended for most people. Ponder the fact that the increases in life spans have mainly to do with public health issues, such as sanitation and sewage, better diets and safer lifestyles, than with any significant increase in medicine’s ability to combat serious illness once it has taken hold. The decrease in lung cancer from tobacco use is all owing to a decrease in tobacco use, which certainly can be credited to medical science, but not in the way your “threshold of eliminating disease” suggests.      This is not to say that medical science has not achieved wonderful, positive advances. It has, and here’s hoping those advances continue. But medical science’s knowledge is small in comparison with its ignorance of the causes, mechanisms, and possible cures of disease.      Finally, to step aside from the particulars of current medical science, ask yourself what a world without death would really be like. Would it be heavenly, or a living hell? On any humane and sensible calculus, it would surely be the latter. Hilary Hinzmann New York May 8, 2013      Editor’s comment: I reacted precisely the same way in 1993 when, in an interview, the biotechnology venture capitalist Wallace Steinberg suggested to me that the benefits of extended longevity would outweigh the disadvantages. “The reason why the planet is in such bad shape,” he contended, “is that all of its people are biologically immature”— that is, people die “just as they are reaching the height of their experience.” A more mature world population, he argued, would approach many problems (including overpopulation) more intelligently than we do now. Meet me in a hundred years and we’ll see if he was right. (Steinberg, incidentally, died in his sleep at the age of 58.) Kermit Gosnell’s abortion case      Re “The Gosnell trial and the abortion debate,” by Robert Zaller—      The curtailing of five abortion clinics in Pennsylvania had nothing to do with state inspections. These clinics’ services were affected by the passage in December 2011 of SB 732, which required medical offices that perform abortions to be held to the same standard as ambulatory surgical facilities. This imposed requirements on the physical plant of clinics and medical offices that are not needed to safely perform an abortion— like wider hallways and elevators that can accommodate a stretcher.      I will also note that many “abortion clinics” perform all kinds of women’s health services, and that this law and the subsequent closures also prevented these medical providers from performing breast exams, pap smears and other kinds of standard gynecology.      That law and any inspections that resumed did nothing to improve health outcomes for women, or make abortion— a procedure that already has a complication rate of under 1 percent— safer. It was intended to limit the number of already safe places a woman can get an abortion.      By the way, an appendectomy, something we generally consider safe, has complication rates three times as high as abortion, at 3 percent. The law did, however, prevent thousands of women from getting medical care while doctors scrambled to pay for expensive and needless construction, or just opted to stop providing those poor women abortions.      Robert Zaller glibly writes, “Many poor women also allow their pregnancies to extend beyond the 24-week limit for abortions prescribed by Pennsylvania law, and thus require the services of someone willing to break it.” What does Mr. Zaller know about being a poor woman trying to obtain an abortion in Pennsylvania? The cost of an abortion at 18 weeks is around $1,000. For someone who earns minimum wage, that means more than a month’s pay.      That $1,000 is just for a woman who even lives near a clinic (97 percent of U.S. counties do not have an abortion provider) and doesn’t have to arrange for transportation and for an overnight stay in a hotel because— surprise surprise— Pennsylvania requires a 24-hour waiting period for an abortion. So yes, it is conceivable that a poor woman might have to wait (saving over a quarter of her minimum wage income each month for four months) before she could afford an abortion. They don’t “allow their pregnancies to extend.”      (Even given these obstacles, 88 percent of abortions are obtained within 13 weeks of a woman’s last period, and fewer than 2 percent of abortions are performed after 20 weeks.) Finally, water-muddying nonsense about “when life begins” implies legal abortion itself is murder. Gosnell did not perform late-term abortions; Gosnell effectively delivered babies and murdered them. Mary Duffy Queen Village/ Philadelphia May 6, 2013      Robert Zaller writes, “Barbara Ehrenreich, a writer I generally respect, once likened terminating an unwanted pregnancy to removing a tumor. Whatever a fetus is, though, it isn’t a tumor. I can state this from personal experience, having been one myself.”      Ehrenreich likened it— that is, created a metaphor— not equated it. So, no, she isn’t saying it’s a tumor.      Plus— “personal experience”? Are you serious? I don’t think there’s any meaningful way you can call something your “experience” when no consciousness is involved. Judy Weightman East Falls, Philadelphia May 8, 2013      I knew Dr. Kermit Gosnell and worked closely with him at Germantown Hospital during his internship and my second year of pre-med at LaSalle College. I was an IV tech; Dr. Gosnell was my direct supervisor on multiple patient cases.      Dr. Gosnell was reprimanded on numerous occasions for blatant and wanton disregard of patient care. He was ridiculed and demeaned by his peers and others on the staff. Jason Brando Mount Hamilton, Calif. May 8, 2013      Robert Zaller replies: I state a fact and not a judgment when I say that I am personally unacquainted with poor women, the point being precisely that I am in no way qualified to pass judgment on them. It is also a fact that women who seek late-term abortions tend to be poor, for the very reasons Ms. Duffy indicates. If abortions are to be provided, it is only fair that they be provided for everyone by qualified persons under proper conditions.      Ms. Duffy suggests that I am trying to imply that abortion is murder. Rather, I’m interested in how she and others who support abortion would describe it. If an unwanted fetus is not a tumor or a wart— that is, a useless or dangerous bodily excrescence of no legal or moral significance and value— then just what is it, and what is it we are doing when we extract and discard it?      Methinks Mr. Zaller doth protest too much (reply, above). He isn’t just implying that abortion is murder; the very phrasing of his question makes clear that, in his worldview, abortion is murder— the rights, safety and health of the living woman carrying the fetus be damned.      So here, for what it’s worth, is my answer: abortion is self-defense, no more and no less. We can argue all we want about “when life begins,” but it is too easy to forget that the pregnant woman is indubitably alive. If those in the anti-abortion camp want to confer full human rights on a four-cell zygote, as recent ballot initiatives in several states have tried to do, then a woman is thereby reduced to the status of unwilling breeder, forced to bear a pregnancy against her will, even at the cost of her health, and quite possibly her life. There’s a word for that: slavery. Ann C. Davidson Spring Garden/ Philadelphia May 15, 2013      Robert Zaller replies: We are dealing with an extraordinarily, perhaps uniquely difficult issue of balancing rights, which the most extreme views on both sides of the question refuse to recognize.      Ms. Davidson describes abortion as “self-defense.” Against whom or what? Pro-life absolutists tend to insist that the life of the fetus is the only issue in question because pro-choice absolutists insist that the fetus has no status as a living entity apart from the prospective mother’s will. PIFA’s publicity machine      Thanks for Alaina Mabaso’s enlightening ”Woe to Journalists at an arts festival.” She confirms my long-held suspicion that here in Philadelphia the “energy” in creation of marketing and public relations materials is valued far more than devotion to integrity of the “product,” which in this case is the Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts.      My husband, who has always worked in science-based industries, had a modicum of interest in attending the wrap-up of this festival about one week before it took place. After hearing of it again and again on the radio during his morning commute, he decided that this festival seemed to promise little of substance— a “science” carnival at best. Thanks to the clueless overkill of marketing and public relations, we were saved the expense of traveling into the city to experience disappointment.      I wonder what the marketing costs were of this event? Marketing and public relations are essential tools in modern society, but marketers need to have something developed, focused and viable to market. Eventually the public will tune out the noise.      The University of Pennsylvania’s change maverick, Russell Ackoff, used to say that it’s far better to do the right thing wrong than to do the wrong thing righter and righter. Philadelphia, as this situation readily demonstrates, seems to be stuck in the latter mode. Victoria Skelly Wayne, Pa. April 29, 2013      Alaina Mabaso replies: Not everything about the festival was a disappointment; I saw a lot of worthwhile work at PIFA. But I felt that the festival’s marketers failed to produce a viable uniting theme.      The City Paper’s article, “Deconstructing PIFA,” explained how a “team of human beings could have cranked out so many press releases.” The first iteration of PIFA in 2011 spent 40% of its $10 million budget on marketing. If we assume that to be true for the 2013 iteration, then about $2 million of the $5 million budget was spent on marketing. That buys an awful lot of marketing. And as usual with PIFA, most of the local artists got diddlysquat. Amy Smith South Philadelphia May 1, 2013      Editor’s note: The writer is a founder and co-director of Headlong Dance Theater. Dafni Camerota of the Kimmel Center says the non-profit arts sector has never paid “millions of dollars” for PR alone; “not even close.”      I love the jaunty mood of this commentary. And I’m impressed that anyone can keep the wolf from the door writing arts reviews. Good job! Reed Stevens Campbell Calif. April 30, 2013      I read with pleasure and interest Tom Purdom’s review of Orchestra 200l’s recent presentation of Crumb and Gorecki. His point about the PIFA festival ostensibly bringing recognition and publicity to small organizations like Orchestra 2001, Network For New Music, Dolce Suono, 1807 & Friends, etc. is alas not borne out by their actions.      As Tom Purdom undoubtedly noted from the sparse attendance at the Center City presentation by Orchestra 200l, PIFA benefitted the group in no way whatever. PIFA sent out one e-mail blast, several weeks prior to the event, and that was it.      Anyone in today’s world understands that it is typical in this sort of publicizing to send out one announcement about three or four weeks before, another about ten days to two weeks before, and another two or three days prior, which is the time a great many people make up their minds to attend something.       In addition, this year, PIFA dispensed none of its funds to the groups like ours that participated. Orchestra 2001 received not a single dollar. Instead, PIFA spent literally millions of dollars on the tiresome construction of a “time tunnel” that now impedes access to the performance spaces in the Kimmel Center, to dubious “artistic” purpose.      Add to that the absurdly narrowing focus of the “Time Travel/Dates in History” theme chosen for the festival, with the insistence that each presentation be linked to a specific date in the past. Orchestra 200l could have much more meaningfully presented its recent collaboration with Piffaro as a time-travel to the past, but the organizers of the festival would not agree to any such.      I frankly hope that the concept of this supposedly international festival will collapse under the weight of its own administrative ineptitude and we’ll not be burdened in the arts community with trying to find a way to participate, without apparent benefit in a concept that seems designed, as is so often the case, to pay big salaries and fees to organizers and administrators, with not even the smallest “trickle down” to the actual artists.      This year’s PIFA was considerably scaled back and worse in concept and implementation than that of 2011. One wonders what new monstrosity will be commissioned to obstruct the lobby space of the Kimmel for the next PIFA. Andrew Rudin Elkins Park, Pa. April 18, 2013      Editor’s note: The writer is a composer as well as a board member of Orchestra 2001.      Tom Purdom replies: I think we’re all disappointed in the second PIFA. A Philadelphia arts festival should draw attention to the breadth and depth of the artistic wealth available in the city. The first festival did that. This one didn’t. I think there’s some value in a citywide brochure and schedule that includes the smaller organizations. That was the main advantage of the first festival.      Alaina Mabaso’s commentary says that the Kimmel Center charged journalists for food and drinks during the PIFA 2013 press preview event, which is incorrect.      All journalists were handed food vouchers at the media check-in table to experience the Garces Pop Up Food Court, and we’re really sorry that she hadn’t found me or Nina Zucker to let us know, because we totally would have taken care of her.      Also, the press release announcing the time machine was written in February, when the Kimmel Center first began to assemble the time machine in preparation of the festival. It offered the artistic director’s inspirations, and left the time machine open to journalists’ interpretations when it was actually completed and open to the public on March 27. Dafni D. Comerota Public Relations Kimmel Center Center City/ Philadelphia May 10, 2013 Mozart and the Masons      Re “Mozart, the Masons and the wages of secrecy,” by Dan Rottenberg (Editor’s Notebook)—      That the Masons, as the first trade union, were obliged to keep their organization secret, perhaps provides a model for modern unions. Like the original Masons, wherever organized labor shows its head today it is sure to court destruction. Like the medieval Masons, too, modern labor toils against a backdrop of serfdom.      The real secret societies today are unaccountable organizations like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank. Unlike the Masons, they actually do decide the fate of millions. Of course, the two biggest secret societies are the European Union and the Catholic Church. The bureaucrats of Brussels make decisions behind closed doors that overturn the economies of entire nations. The Catholic Church, the most successful authoritarian institution in history, dictates the conduct and belief of more than a billion people. If it didn’t actually exist, such an organization would be hard to imagine.      No doubt, as Dan Rottenberg suggests, some activities require privacy and confidentiality. Ultimately, though, any activity that touches the common weal needs to be brought into the light of day, and all business that can be transacted in public ought to be.      I’ve always been amazed that the Masons admitted Mozart.  There was never a man who brought more sunlight into the world. Robert Zaller Bala Cynwyd, Pa. May 1, 2013      Dan’s gift at clarifying neglected episodes in American history (remember his recent take on the Vail of Tears of dispossessed American Indians forced to flee west?) is a unique blessing in these United States of Amnesia. Patrick D. Hazard Weimar, Germany May 3, 2013      There are so many places you could go with that theme: secret men’s groups; our forefathers as Tribesman by any other name. The “work” origins of the Masons, as opposed to the philosophical beliefs of the Masons, point to a Marxist view of securing workers’ rights first above all else.      Who would have thought that the story of the Masons would remain so contemporary?  Thank you for blowing some dust off them. Karl Middleman Merion, Pa. May 3, 2013 George W. Bush’s library      Re “A pyramid rises in Texas,” by Robert Zaller—      Sandra O’Connor, that allegedly shyest justice, alas, cast the vote that gored the White House for eight awe-filled years. That Court will do US in, ultimately, if they express their fear of Americans eventually voting out The Usurpers as Citizens UnLimited. Patrick D. Hazard Weimar, Germany April 30, 2013      Robert Zaller replies: Sandra Day O’Connor may regret the vote that gave us George W. Bush— hers— but she was overheard to say after the election that it would be a disaster if Al Gore became president. When this comment became public, she was urged to recuse herself from Bush v. Gore, but she refused. Rufus Wainwrght      Re Steve Cohen’s review of Rufus Wainwright—      Just a note to let you know that Rufus didn’t sing the entire 1961 Judy Garland concert at Verizon Hall, just excerpts. Carole Verona Chestnut Hill/ Philadelphia May 1, 2013      Steve Cohen replies: Ms. Verona is correct. Rufus did perform Garland’s program of 26 numbers from April 23, 1961, in other concerts and on records. At Verizon Hall he sang 15 of them. I should note that he added several excellent encores of non-Garland songs, joined by singers Melody Moore, Katheryn Guthrie and by tuba player Scott Devereaux on “Oh, What a World,” which was written by Wainwright. South Pacific, transposed?      Re Steve Cohen’s review of South Pacific in Wilmington—      I played Emile DeBecque in this production. I’m not sure where Steve Cohen got his information, but his statement that “Some Enchanted Evening” was transposed up a step is incorrect. I sang all of my music in the key it was written, as I believe did the entire cast. Michael Sharon New York May 6, 2013      Steve Cohen replies: I didn’t have my pitch pipe with me, but the song certainly sounded higher and brighter. That’s meant as a compliment to Sharon. The Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization has told me that the only licensed version of “Some Enchanted Evening” is in C major, with the top, pay-off note being an E, but they are aware that many performers have transposed it upwards. Conversely, some singers make both of the last two notes, on the words “her go,” a C instead of the written C going up to E. Terry Williams case      Robert Zaller’s three-part series on the Terry Williams case (Sept.-Oct. 2012) is interesting to me, and he does a nice job of pointing out subtle facts in Williams’s life history. Zaller also pointed out somewhat accurately why Williams’s accomplice, Marc Draper, pleaded guilty to second-degree murder as a first-time offender with no prior criminal history. There will be another day in the not so distant future where more of the truth will be told about this unfortunate crime, and I hope Mr. Zaller will shine the light on the injustice done to me in addition to Terry Williams. Marc Draper Frackville, Pa. May 7, 2013      Editor’s comment: Marc Draper has a website at timeservedformarcdraper.com. ‘The Master’      Re the reviews of The Master by Susan Beth Lehman and Robert Zaller (October 2012)—      After watching The Master, I did something I never do: I watched it again on the big screen, and then bought the DVD. Then I did another thing I never have done: I read review after review of this fascinating film. It is fascinating that every reviewer sees something different, from discussion of id and ego to the basic need to cling to some kind of belief.      Unlike almost every reviewer, I did see some redeeming qualities in Freddie. He does not blame his parents (or possibly an aunt who abused him at a young age). He treats Doris with respect, making the ultimate sacrifice of leaving her because he is too old for her and most likely not good enough for her.      He serves his country at a cost of irreparable damage. He exhibits friendship and loyalty to Dodd. In the end he is brave enough to leave Dodd. He is able to quell some of his rage and find a measure of peace with a grown up version of Doris: Winn Manchester. Laura Smith Vancouver, Wash. May 12, 2013 Classical music: Dead or alive?      Re “Classical music: Dead or alive?” by Maria Corley (September 2012)—      I enjoyed your Maria Corley’s article, being of the same generation as her erstwhile manager and having written about the same issue myself at embarrassing length on March 5. (Click here.)      I share your optimism, perhaps in part because I too am a fan of Gustavo Dudamel and hear his orchestras often. I argue that the solution to the problem boils down to what kids do during the first six (or so) years of their life and cite some scientific support, beyond the remarkable success of Dudamel’s El Sistema. Carl Ellenberger Mount Gretna, Pa. May 12, 2013 Letters 2013-05-18T07:05:19-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/to_follow_your_dream_or_play_it_safe/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/to_follow_your_dream_or_play_it_safe/#When:21:35:29Z When a teenager dreams of becoming a famous performer, how should a parent respond? Maybe that’s the wrong question. Our contributor Maria Corley, makes (I think) a passable living in music as a concert pianist and teacher. Now her 16-year-old daughter Kiana harbors dreams of becoming a famous singer like the TV contestants who leap from obscurity to stardom by dazzling judges on “The Voice.” Maria’s quandary: Should she encourage her daughter’s fantasies or squelch them? (See “The fallacy of ‘The Voice’.”) Maria’s conclusion: Encourage Kiana to pursue her dream, but make sure she has a backup plan. I’m a parent who’s been there and done that, so allow me three observations. What if? 1. This isn’t an either/or deal. Throughout her school years and even into college, my younger daughter was bound and determined for a career on the stage. She possessed multiple talents— actress, pianist, tap dancer, director. In high school she worked with a New York casting director and won second prize in a national scholastic playwriting contest. Nevertheless, virtually all of our friends and relatives urged us to discourage her. The odds against her dream scenario, they said, were overwhelming— and that being the case, why not spare her the aggravation and heartbreak, not to mention the huge ensuing psychotherapy bills? My wife and I, virtually alone, disagreed. She’s got to chase her dream, we felt. If the dream turns out to be untenable, she’ll get it out of her system. But if she never even tries, she’ll be wondering “What if?” for the rest of her life. (My daughter did ultimately make a career in show business— not on stage, but as a TV writer, and only after several unexpected career detours. You can’t know what life will offer you unless you take the first step.) Backing into dance 2. Plan B isn’t merely an alternative to Plan A— it’s a critical element to the success of Plan A. Single-minded artists and entertainers tend to be boring and self-absorbed people, and it shows in their work. That’s why you see so many movies and plays about making movies and plays— because many entertainers and writers don’t know anything else. As a college student, Riccardo Muti majored in philosophy, not music— a choice that has enriched his work as one of the world’s greatest orchestral and operatic conductors. The poet Wallace Stevens and the composer Charles Ives both pursued day jobs as insurance executives. Bernard Jacobson, former music critic of the Chicago Daily News and program annotator for the Philadelphia Orchestra (and occasional BSR contributor), studied philosophy, history and classics at Oxford and never took a musicology course in his life. (Check his C.V. here.) Or consider the unlikely career path of Merrill Brockway, who presented many of the 20th Century’s greatest dancers and choreographers on the Public Broadcasting series “Dance in America.” Brockway, who died earlier this month at age 90, began studying piano when he was seven. In the Army during World War II, he served as a driver for a chaplain and provided music for the chaplain’s services. He subsequently earned a master’s degree in musicology, but after realizing he would never be a professional classical pianist, in 1953 he took a job moving scenery at WCAU-TV, the CBS affiliate in Philadelphia. Within a year the station made him director of its educational and children’s programs. But dance remained far off his radar screen until a Columbia classmate took him to see Martha Graham. “I saw a tiny lady dancing a solo,” Brockway recalled in his 2010 memoir, Surprise Was My Teacher. “She grabbed my gut, swung it around, tossed it in the air, slammed it to the ground, then tenderly picked it up and cradled it. I would be, forever, Martha Graham’s disciple.” Graham, in turn, was attracted to Brockway by his expertise in TV, which she and other choreographers saw as a way to reach larger audiences. “Dance in America” had its premiere in 1976, when Brockway was 53. The rest is history. As the British physician and essayist Havelock Ellis put it, “The by-product is sometimes more valuable than the product.” Tripped up by ego 3. Winning is overrated. Talent contests like “The Voice” and “American Idol” package themselves as all-or-nothing affairs with one winner and many losers. It’s a format designed for maximum drama but bears no application in the real world. (Van Cliburn’s youthful triumph at the Tchaikovsky Competition turned out to be the high point of his career.) I’ll give the final word to Jack Farber, the chairman of CSS Industries, whose memoirs I edited a few years ago. Farber, who describes himself deprecatingly as a “corporate garbage man,” spent more than 40 years acquiring dead or dying companies, repairing them and selling them for a profit. It’s unglamorous work, which explains why you probably never heard of Farber or CSS. Some of the companies Farber took over were run by egomaniacs guided by the philosophy that “If you’re not Number One in your field, it’s not worth doing.” Farber’s rejoinder: “This wasn’t my philosophy, to put it mildly. I hate to lose, but my aspirations don’t require me to be Number One. As I had observed even as an adolescent, it’s simply not possible to be the best at everything you do; the world has plenty of room for Number Two or Three, or even Ten— or even people who come in last, if they’re trying. This ‘Number One’ rhetoric may work at pep rallies and sales conferences— to fire up a team to win a game or reach a revenue goal— but any effort to remain Number One over the long term is to me a futile waste of energy that could better be put to other uses.” So, yes, follow your dream. If you expose it to reality, reality may pleasantly surprise you. But you’ll never know unless you try.♦To read responses, click here. Editor's Notebook 2013-05-14T21:35:29-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/tempesta_di_mare_four_baroque_entertainments/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/tempesta_di_mare_four_baroque_entertainments/#When:18:44:44Z Baroque music languished in the 19th Century because it seemed tame next to Beethoven or Brahms. It was merely entertainment— albeit for musically sophisticated audiences, as Tempesta di Mare reminded us. Tempesta di Mare: Purcell, Suite from The Fairy Queen; Telemann, Burlesque di Quixotte; Charpentier, Incidental Music for La Malade Imaginaire; Rameau, Ballet Music from Pygmalion. Emlyn Ngai, Concertmaster. May 11, 2012 at Arch Street Friends Meeting, Fourth and Arch Sts. (215) 755-8776 or www.tempestadimare.org. Baroque music languished in obscurity between 1800 and 1950 because it failed to satisfy the expectations aroused by 19th-Century orchestral music. It didn’t thunder like Beethoven, nor did it convey profound emotions with big masses of sound, like Tchaikovsky and Brahms. Much of Baroque music can best be described as entertainment. But it was entertainment created for highly civilized people with solid musical backgrounds. Tempesta di Mare devoted its last concert of the season to four examples of Baroque entertainments. A role for Louis XIV Telemann’s orchestral piece, Burlesque de Quixotte, is one of my all-time Baroque favorites. The American Society of Ancient Instruments used to play it every now and then with five viols and a harpsichord. Tempesta’s 20- piece orchestra, complete with woodwinds and percussion, magnified the humor in Telemann’s mock charges and gallops. The Don’s sighs for Dulcinea acquired extra pathos when they were produced by woodwinds instead of strings. Purcell’s The Fairy Queen and Charpentier’s The Imaginary Invalid were both court entertainments. The Fairy Queen was a masque— a mixture of speech, song, dance, costumes and spectacle that flourished in England in the 16th and 17th Centuries.  The Imaginary Invalid was a comic ballet, a form invented by Molière that often included a role for Louis XIV. Rameau’s Ballet Music from Pygmalion was a theater ballet based on the story of the sculptor Pygmalion, who falls in a love with a statue that Cupid brings to life— a story that achieved some fame in the20th Century as My Fair Lady. Hypochondriac as doctor The French pieces contain passages that can only be appreciated if you know the story. In The Imaginary Invalid, for example, the hypochondriac sees so many doctors that he receives a medical degree, and Charpentier provides a special Air for Curtsying for the medical personnel who congratulate him. But most of the suites consist of airs and dances capable of standing alone. The impresarios behind the productions seized every opportunity to introduce crowd-pleasers like Moorish dancers, dancing monkeys and a generous assortment of hornpipes, jigs and rondos. Tempesta di Mare’s musicians once again wielded their period instruments with skill and grace, without benefit of a conductor. These were all ensemble pieces, with no solo roles, but I especially liked the passages for multiple sopranino recorders and the percussion contributed by Michelle Humphreys. And I was fascinated by the way an orchestra without a single brass instrument somehow managed to create the illusion that trumpets were concealed in its midst. Music & Opera 2013-05-14T18:44:44-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/yannick_conducts_mahler_and_hilary_hahn_2nd_review/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/yannick_conducts_mahler_and_hilary_hahn_2nd_review/#When:17:30:58Z Yannick Nézet-Séguin probed beyond the obvious in Mahler’s First Symphony, but I wish he’d pushed Hilary Hahn to play a less predictable work. Philadelphia Orchestra: Mahler, Symphony No. 1; Korngold, Violin Concerto I D Major; Richard Strauss, Love Scene from Feuersnot. Hilary Hahn, violin; Yannick Nézet-Séguin, conductor. May 3-5, 2013 at Verizon Hall, Kimmel Center, Broad and Spruce Sts. (215) 893-1999 or www.philorch.org. Unlike the critics Dan Rottenberg refers to in his recent BSR review, I was never puzzled by the hodgepodge of moods and orchestral effects in Mahler’s First Symphony (and most of his others). On the contrary, that hodgepodge is one of the qualities that attracted me to Mahler. I reacted that way, I think, because I’m a reader who grew up in a time when writers had realized that modern audiences value economy and pace. We don’t need transitions. Just type in a line break and hop us to the next interesting bit. That doesn’t mean that every scene must involve a car chase or a gunfight. The next bit can be a touch of comedy, a character portrait or a glob of sentimentality. Just make it interesting. And different. As Mahler usually does. Dan hears Mahler’s First Symphony as a forecast of the tragedy that hit Europe in 1914. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t think of it that way, but I’m content with a less specific viewpoint. I’ve always preferred the idea that Mahler’s symphonies create whole worlds, in the same way a sprawling novel captures all the moods and contradictions that form the untidy panorama of human life. Why Europe imploded I would also disagree with Dan’s contention that the old European order fell because it was afflicted with a “rotting infrastructure beneath the surface grandeur.” Many people felt life was getting better in the Belle Époque, and they had every reason to think the forward movement would continue. It was derailed by a military catastrophe that took place for many reasons. One of the most important was the long period without a general European war, from the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 to the mobilization of 1914. Without the firsthand experience of such a war, the political and intellectual leaders of the period found it easy to glamorize war and convince themselves it would be quick and cheap. As American military officers like to put it, they had never seen a sucking chest wound. Beyond the brass Interesting as all that is, I didn’t leave the Kimmel Center pondering Mahler’s worldview. For me, the most interesting aspect of that Philadelphia Orchestra program was Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s conducting. Most conductors can wow the audience with the symphony’s big finish, in which the reinforced brass section stands at the back of the stage, sailing fanfares across the rest of the orchestra. Yannick proved once again that he can lead the orchestra through the parts of Mahler’s landscape that require sensitivity and precision. Mahler wrote for big orchestras, but he didn’t use them merely to make loud noises. He used them as a big palette that offered him an infinite number of combinations. In the second movement, for example, Yannick displayed a clear grasp of the way Mahler mixes basses, winds and violins. The Philadelphia Orchestra needed an exciting young conductor, and Yannick is surely filling the demand. But Orchestra patrons should all be grateful that the management signed a musician who can provide something more than sizzle. Hahn’s odd choice Any concert that features a Mahler symphony automatically becomes a major event. Add an appearance by the violinist Hilary Hahn and you get two major events on one ticket. In this case, Hahn’s choice of concertos produced an event that was a bit less major than it could have been. In his after-concert chat with the audience, Yannick said Hahn gave him a choice of three concertos, and he picked Korngold’s because he felt it fit with the rest of the program. It’s a difficult piece, Yannick said, and Hilary Hahn has been championing it. Korngold wrote the concerto in 1945, after a long period as a top movie composer. It’s a good piece and Hahn, as I expected, got as much out of it as any soloist could. But it follows a predictable arc, like a script that includes everything the audience expects. I would have been happier if Hahn had played something with more bite and individuality, like one of the Shostakovich concertos. For me, the high point of Hahn’s appearance was her encore: a slow movement from one of Bach’s pieces for unaccompanied violin. I’ve never heard anyone play Bach that lyrically, and she did it without adding anything that sounded false or excessive.♦To read another commentary on this concert by Dan Rottenberg, click here. Music & Opera 2013-05-14T17:30:58-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/learning_to_love_the_avengers/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/learning_to_love_the_avengers/#When:16:51:44Z The mindless “Avengers” films and their various comic-book spinoffs have already wasted hours of my life at a cost of hundreds of dollars, and there’s no end in sight. On the other hand, they may have saved my marriage. Iron Man 3. A film directed by John Favreau. For Philadelphia area show times, click here. On our way to see The Avengers last year, my husband and I did a little avenging of our own— avenging the high cost of food at the movie theater. Between us, we smuggled in a package of dried mango strips, a bag of sour gummy worms, a king-sized peanut M&M’s, a bag of Trader Joe’s popcorn, and a ham and cheese hoagie with pickles. Hey, that movie is long. And really, even before we sat down for The Avengers, I could never have predicted just how much time I would be spending with comic book characters like Iron Man, the Hulk, Captain America and Thor. But as the credits rolled for Iron Man 3, which opened earlier this month, I finally realized that instead of graduating from the world of Marvel comics, I have become its Sisyphus. I was like a girl who doesn’t understand the difference between a wedding and a marriage. I couldn’t fathom the scope of the relationship I’d just entered. Nazis run amok The Hulk in 2003 (starring Eric Bana) and The Incredible Hulk in 2008 (starring Edward Norton) were like warning shots. Two years later, I sat through all 124 minutes of Iron Man 2 in good grace. 2011 was a banner year: We saw Captain America (set in the 1940s, starring Chris Evans as a super-soldier endowed with the moral complexity of Lassie) and Thor (in which a leonine Chris Hemsworth plays the hammer-wielding Viking god of the title). So far, the Avengers have fought a fire-breathing interstellar robot, a whip-wielding, parrot-loving Russian, run-of-the-mill terrorists, Frost Giants, a diabolical chairman, the Norse god Loki, and a fearsomely red Nazi who runs amok, even by World War II standards, and tries to obliterate every city on earth. Are you with me so far? Unanswered questions Now it turns out that all of these films (aka “the Marvel Universe”) were but prequels to a grand finale, The Avengers, in which the heroes would unite to save planet Earth. Unfortunately, I was at a bit of a disadvantage going into The Avengers, since I fell asleep at the end of Captain America and Thor and, consequently, missed the climactic plot details. I also annoyed my date by speculating about niggling details: How does Iron Man deal with international airspace regulations? How come The Hulk’s explosive growth shreds all of his clothes except for his pants? Why do citizens of the mythic realm of Asgard speak English (with vaguely British accents, to boot)? In these days of austerity and tightfisted bankers, who the hell funded that city-sized flying aircraft carrier-cum-laboratory and its invisibility shield? Rescuing New York In The Avengers last year, a dour, brawny Mark Ruffalo appeared as my husband’s favorite Avenger— our third Bruce Banner (aka The Hulk) in a decade. Even I found the movie funny, well-paced, exciting and much more character-driven than most action films. And ol’ Captain America delivered my favorite line of the whole film, to the inscrutable archer Hawkeye (he hasn’t had his own movie) as they’re about to rescue New York City from an inter-dimensional alien war-zone: “Do you have a suit?” Because what else do you need to know about your compatriots on the eve of battle? But now that I comprehend the extent of the franchise, the key question remains: How many more Avengers movies must I endure? Let us do the math and consider the variables. Spider-Man returns In the world of Hollywood Avengers, not only does each comic character get his own trilogy; The Avengers itself is the first of three films starring the superheroes as a team. If we assume that Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk gets three more films in which to grossly exaggerate the elasticity of men’s pants, and— oh, dear God— if Hawkeye has his own trilogy in the works, that’s 12 more Avengers films, in addition to the eight I’ve seen since 2003. And it could be worse. The Spider-Man trilogy (with Tobey Maguire as the eponymous arachnid hero) opened in 2002 and wound up in 2007, supposedly. But in 2012, the lithe Andrew Garfield, in gravity-defying post-Twilight-era hair, appeared in a “reboot” called The Amazing Spider-Man. That movie had more loose ends than U.S. immigration law— yeah, we’re looking at a whole new trilogy. So why do I do keep going? Have I no self-control? It’s not like Iron Man’s blasters are pointed at my head when I walk into the theater. I could stay home and watch Jane Austen’s Persuasion on DVD. Part of the answer is that marital moviegoing is a two-way street: My husband tolerated Cary Fukunaga’s Jane Eyre for my sake, so I indulge his Avengers addiction. Wasted Christmas gift Recently a female friend confided that, as a “Christmas present,” her husband had agreed to accompany her to a single “complaint-free” movie— that is, she could choose it, and he would not grouse bitterly over her choice. But when she cashed in her voucher, it turned out she didn’t enjoy the movie all that much, and spent the second half of it unhappily reflecting that she had wasted her Christmas gift, because hubby wouldn’t give her a second chance. Somehow, her story made me unutterably sad. When I do the math, I see that my husband and I have spent almost $200 on Avengers movies since 2003. And if my preliminary projections are correct, they’ll cost us at least $264 more before they’re through (not including snacks, of course). But when you consider that a single hour of marriage counseling can cost up to $200, tickets to see the Avengers begin to look like a steal. To me, superheroes offer little more than an endless, noisy stream of robots, soldiers, aliens, explosions and labored battleground repartee. But when my husband can hold my hand while he watches Loki promise the Tesseract to the Chitauri aliens in exchange for the subjugation of planet Earth, he feels loved. And isn’t that what marriage is all about? So we’ll be stocking up on movie snacks for many years to come. Books & Movies 2013-05-14T16:51:44-05:00 http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/rattle_and_lang_lang_with_the_orchestra/ http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/site/rattle_and_lang_lang_with_the_orchestra/#When:15:46:00Z A varied program by Sir Simon Rattle included a most peculiar linking of the Sibelius Sixth and Seventh Symphonies. The histrionic Lang Lang, conversely, is beginning to appreciate that the music is more important than the musician. Philadelphia Orchestra: Sibelius, Symphony No. 6 and 7; Beethoven, Piano Concerto No. 3; Norman, Unstuck. Lang Lang, piano; Simon Rattle, conductor. May 9-11, 2013 at Verizon Hall, Kimmel Center, Broad and Spruce St. (215) 893-1999 or www.philorch.org. Sir Simon Rattle, once assiduously courted by the Philadelphia Orchestra, usually packs the house when he returns. When Lang Lang accompanies him, a sellout is assured. I’ve had issues with both artists in the past, but mostly they were spot-on in their collaboration on Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto. The last time I’d heard Lang, in 2009, he turned in a travesty performance of the Chopin Second Concerto that was all about calling attention to his prodigious technique at the expense of any coherent and minimally respectful projection of the music. (For my review of that concert, click here.) This Beethoven Third included sudden shifts in tempo and dynamics, some more persuasive than others, but also welcome signs of a maturing artist who puts the music first. Dobrin’s complaint Virtuosity aside, Lang brings two formidable assets: a powerful and commanding tone that gives the Romantic piano its full due and cuts through almost any orchestral texture, and a remarkable clarity of voicing that came through despite a generous application of pedal. The right-hand trills he brought off were remarkable on both counts, but Lang showed delicacy and restraint in the concerto’s Largo movement as well.  It may take Lang a while to fully work out the kinks and acknowledge that the music is the boss. Only when you’ve learned that lesson do you earn the right to put your own individual stamp on it. But when a pianist’s technique puts one in mind of a Horowitz, one is dealing with a major talent. The Inquirer’s Peter Dobrin called attention to Lang’s continuing habit of facing the audience. When I saw that in Lang’s previous Chopin performance, I took it for mugging, not to say smirking.  This time around, I thought it might have reflected concentration, although Dobrin remains annoyed by it. In either case it’s distracting, and won’t be missed if Lang can dispense with it.  Rattle’s accompaniment was flexible enough to frame the Concerto while accommodating the occasional pianistic eccentricity, and the two men joined for an encore— Dvorak’s Slavonic Dance, Op. 46, #1— that was delightful in its ebullience, and showed Rattle no slouch at the keyboard himself.  Lang’s exuberance was also infectious. All will be well when he takes more joy in the music than in himself. That was the case here. Puzzling title The program opened with a ten-minute work by Andrew Norman with the awkward title of Unstuck. Norman, a Brooklyn native who was present for the performance, explained the provenance in program notes by reference to a line in Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five that had helped him over a compositional block, but that made it no less odd—maybe a misspelling of the German Urstuck, as my inner editor suggested to me?  As for the music, it showed a brilliant grasp of orchestral writing that gave the Orchestra a chance for some virtuosity of its own, and Rattle performed it with precision and élan. The substance of the work was another matter. Since it was alternately very loud and very soft with no gradation in between, it didn’t project much more than a bundle of effects (rather like Lang Lang’s 2009 Chopin). Norman said that the insight Vonnegut gave him was that a work didn’t have to cohere. Dubious advice, I’d have to say. Maybe Norman should try reading another novelist. Frankenstein monster The second half of Rattle’s program consisted of what the program indicated as back-to-back performances of the Sibelius Sixth and Seventh Symphonies, which turned out to be joined at the hip since Rattle, startlingly, launched into the one-movement Seventh without pause, as if it were the Sixth’s final movement.  The program, while not announcing this novel idea, seemed to make some argument for it, noting that Sibelius himself had observed that both symphonies were conceived simultaneously while he was still working on his revisions to the Fifth Symphony.  The trouble is that the two works, while perhaps fraternal twins, are very different symphonies. The Sixth has always been the ice maiden among the Sibelius set, more a suite-like set of tone poems than a work that exhibits dramatic urgency. The music is lovely, but probes mood rather than depth.  The Seventh, on the other hand, is the most focused of all the Sibelius compositions. By casting it in a single movement— a radical innovation, later adopted by the Roy Harris Third and Seventh Symphonies, and by Miaskovsky in his 21st— it emphasized tightness of conception and construction. It belongs, obviously, on its own, and whatever pedagogic purpose may be served by juxtaposing it with another work, it’s not an appendage to anything. Beethoven tried it Efforts like this have been made before, for example in trying to “complete” Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony with an add-on choral movement from another composition. Then there’s the example of Beethoven’s Op. 130 Quartet, which originally had the Grosse Fuge as its final movement before his publisher talked him into composing an alternate movement more in keeping with the rest of the work. Nowadays the Op. 130 is most often performed in this latter version, although occasionally an ensemble will revert to the original. In this case, however, it’s the composer himself who gives warrant. None exists for splicing two Sibelius symphonies together. As a listener, I could only roll with the punches. In the event, both symphonies were very well performed, with Rattle bringing out the Wagnerian horn sonorities in the Sixth with special emphasis and giving a warm, burnished sound to the Seventh. The Orchestra was glorious. What Sir Simon couldn’t do, though, was make his musical Frankenstein work as a whole. It’s a shame that Sibelius never was able to write an Eighth Symphony.  But that’s hardly a reason to reduce his output to six. Music & Opera 2013-05-14T15:46:00-05:00