Dvořák’s Stabat Mater is one of the most beautiful 
                choral works ever written. Vaclav Neumann’s performance on DVD 
                (Arthaus 
                102019) convinced me of this beyond any reasonable doubt – 
                his version sits on an equal plane with (on record) Kubelík, Smetáček 
                and Talich. 
                Here, 
                  there are no scene-setting camera pannings; rather, the soloists 
                  and conductor enter and all gets underway with no real preliminaries. 
                  Musically, the opening itself does not have the sense of devotion 
                  that Neumann instils. Neither does the chorus establish the 
                  same sense of loss in its handling of the lachrymose descending 
                  lines that permeate this first movement, “Stabat Mater dolorosa”. 
                  Camera angles include impressive views of the chorus (ladies 
                  in a lovely purple, gents in traditional concert dress) and 
                  dissolves from one view to another. 
                Whereas 
                  in this piece Neumann projected a sense of the vast, Pešek seems 
                  not to look so far ahead, resulting in the first entrance of 
                  the tenor and the subsequent paragraphs sounding rather directionless 
                  and out-of-place; neither accusation could ever be levelled 
                  at Neumann. Pešek’s sense of curbed-in drama seems equally under-developed, 
                  although his technique cannot be faulted - his beat is eloquent 
                  and clear. A particular casualty of this lack of internal fire 
                  is the ninth movement, “Inflammatus et accensus”, where the 
                  orchestral contribution is merely routine. Hear – and watch 
                  – how Neumann elevates archetypal musical gestures to higher 
                  planes here. 
                The soprano 
                  Eva Randová enters as a beam of light, her pure voice a pleasure 
                  to listen to. Mikulaš’s bass is initially rather heavy, but 
                  the quartet of soloists when they sing together actually gels 
                  into a coherent group. Indeed, the quartet comes into its own 
                  in the quartet, “Quis et homo, qui non fleret”. It does rather 
                  appear that Kachliková is happiest when in ensemble. When she 
                  has a solo, there is not quite enough projection or personality 
                  - crucially, in the “Inflammatus”. In contrast, the bass, Mikulaš, 
                  thrives in his big solo, the fifth movement, “Fac, ut ardeat 
                  cor meum”, as does the tenor, Štefan Margita, in the seventh 
                  movement, “Fac me vere tecum elere”. Margita has a rather light 
                  voice which is not inappropriate in the earlier parts of the 
                  movement. He struggles to be heard later on, and I suspect this 
                  is not a fault of the recording balance. 
                The chorus 
                  is clearly well trained although I can find all sorts of credits 
                  for all sorts of people, including the two “floral decorators”, 
                  I cannot find the name of the chorus-master. The choral movement, 
                  “Virgo virginum praeclara” is a model of choral good behaviour. 
                  The choir’s tone is rich yet not too heavy, and this movement 
                  even approaches some sort of radiance. 
                Interesting 
                  to note that Pešek’s teachers include both Neumann and Smetáček, 
                  yet Pešek cannot rise to either’s heights. The true light of 
                  this account is Urbanová, nowhere as touching as in “Fac, ut 
                  portem Christi mortem”, where she inspires Margita to give his 
                  best in response to her caressing phrases. Yet one soloist is 
                  not enough to raise this performance to the heights this Stabat 
                  Mater requires it to scale. 
                Neither 
                  text nor translation is included, unfortunately, although subtitles 
                  (infrequent) with a choice of translated languages are included. 
                  The original Latin is not an option here, either. 
                Dvořák’s 
                  Stabat Mater is what might be termed a fragile masterpiece. 
                  It can disintegrate in the wrong hands, and lose its majesty. 
                  Such is the case here, I fear. Go to the Neumann for a sense 
                  of the true worth of this piece.
                
              Colin Clarke