The Moscow Bolshoi Theatre, which was previously the central signboard of Russian culture and a major export product, has recently experienced serious competition from St. Petersburg, especially since Valery Gergiev elevated the status of the Mariinsky Theatre. Gergiev and his artists are incredibly loved in the West today, and not only in Baden-Baden. Those who heard Gergiev's performance of Tchaikovsky's works in the Alte Oper (our newspaper wrote about it on January 20), remembered the freshness and perfection of their playing, although Gergiev's interpretations do not always look smooth.
The Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra, which, under the direction of its chief conductor Alexander Vedernikov, performed in the same Alte Oper, is quite another matter. Perfection is not a necessary feature of this orchestra, and mistakes also happen. But Vedernikov's interpretations are risky adventures with sharp angles and new facets, tension and extreme intensity of sound, and, as in old Russian art, full of pathos and sublimity.
From the very beginning of the concert, its direction was set. Vedernikov unfolded Tchaikovsky's fantasy overture "Romeo and Juliet" from an immanent tension of contrasts to intense struggle and passionate reflection. A musically expressive, effective area of tension attracts the conductor and musicians as a means of revealing the boundaries of their own capabilities. It's rare to hear the drums clicking so justifiably angrily, and the melody grabbing at the heart so much. Vedernikov is a musician who takes his time to run through the score, and you accept his love of detail with gratitude. With such a thorough development of the internal structure, listening to strings alone is already a great pleasure.
However, sometimes it can be considered that Russians capitulate to highly set tasks. Tuba's big solo in the "Cattle" scene in Mussorgsky's orchestrated Ravel "Pictures from the Exhibition" was insufficient. However, is the tuba player, who squeezed the maximum volume and rounded sound out of his instrument, to blame for the fact that several sounds did not want to fit into this framework? Of course, the final scene of "Bogatyr Gate" showed how free this huge orchestral apparatus is when its potential is pushed to the limits of what is possible. Before that, Vedernikov was thrilled by his reading of the grotesque and sinister painting "Hut on Chicken Legs" — a scene whose significance cannot be exaggerated, and very often it skips before the grand finale.
After all the turmoil of the main program, the first encore was Celeste's gentle solo in the Dragee fairy dance from Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker, a real oasis of peace, before the great battle began again in Prokofiev's The Death of Tebalda from Romeo and Juliet. This scene concluded the evening not only thematically, but also surpassed it in terms of sound maximum and intensity.
Between these powerful blocks, Rachmaninoff's First Piano Concerto with Gerhard Opitz was performed. The work was performed in the accepted revised version of 1917. Rachmaninoff's music was written in the original in 1891 and sometimes makes you think of the wide passages of Brahms' works, although the young Russian conductor had everything more masterly and impressive. A great connoisseur of Brahms, Opitz was not embarrassed by this, avoided loud passages, found thematic connections that he was subtly aware of, which allowed for such an accompaniment. The applause was hearty.
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