SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Beethoven and Zemlinsky “A Florentine Tragedy”:  Jonathan Biss (piano), Anthony Dean Griffey (tenor), James Johnson (baritone), Tatiana Pavlovskaysa (mezzo-soprano), New York Philharmonic, James Conlon (conductor), Avery Fisher Hall, 20.10. 2007 (BH)

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat major, Op. 19 (ca. 1788-1801)

Zemlinsky: Eine florentinische Tragödie (A Florentine Tragedy), Op. 16 (1915-16)

If most ears were tuned expectantly to the Zemlinsky after intermission, the elegant and lithe playing of Jonathan Biss in Beethoven’s Second Piano Concerto only made an evening overflowing with pleasure.  In what appeared to be an effortless ride with conductor James Conlon and the New York Philharmonic, Biss was in total command, his fingers skittering across the keyboard.  In contrast to some pianists whose fingers seem magnetically drawn to the instrument, Biss springs off the keys as if they were sizzling to the touch.  The second movement adagio showed sensuous playing from the orchestra (that again, made my mouth water for later), capped by Biss’s delicacy in the ending.  In the finale, with its buoyant rhythms and high spirits, Biss seemed completely in his element, and aside from the music, it was fun just watching his fingers.

Conlon should be profoundly thanked for bringing Alexander von Zemlinsky's one-act opera, Eine florentinische Tragödie (A Florentine Tragedy), to the New York Philharmonic, the first performances here.  As Conlon noted in his dry, funny, and expertly delivered introduction, Oscar Wilde's libretto is disturbing and not for those expecting The Importance of Being Earnest: “This is human behavior you may not be able to relate to.”  The plot, in a nutshell: a husband (Simone, sung by baritone James Johnson) suspects his wife Bianca (soprano Tatiana Pavlovskaya) of having an affair with a young prince (tenor Anthony Dean Griffey).  Eventually the tension escalates into a sword fight that the husband characterizes as playful, before it takes an unexpected turn and the younger man is killed.  The wife’s final line to her husband: “I never knew you were so strong!”  He replies, “I never knew you were so beautiful!”  It’s a story to warm hearts everywhere.

This was the first time the orchestra has ever tackled this lavish score, and they grabbed it with a fury.  With its crashing beginning, the first four minutes or so are a somewhat explicit orchestral depiction of, to put it politely, intimate activities directly related to the opera’s plot fulcrum.  In addition to the libretto, further comparisons with Richard Strauss’s Salome are entirely appropriate.  The orchestral writing is over-the-top luxurious, and small details abound, such as a small, creepy glissando by the concertmaster, uttered as the prince meets his demise in the climactic sword fight.

In the taxing lead role, Johnson offered stentorian rigor drenched with malevolence; one was never quite sure of his motives in this cat-and-mouse game.  Pavlovskaya’s alluring mezzo seemed just right for the ambiguity of Bianca.  I liked her cold, shifty glances, too: like her husband, a character holding cards close to the vest.  My mind kept recalling Ian McEwan’s bleak novel, The Comfort of Strangers, with two young tourists stumbling into another couple’s dark intentions.  And Griffey’s portrayal of the innocent Guido—with a voice and projection that dwarfed the hall—only made me anticipate him more eagerly as Peter Grimes in the Met’s new production next spring.


Bruce Hodges

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