Decades ago, when classical music on record was emerging as a 
                mass market product for the first time, Beethoven interpretation 
                sounded big, bold, slow and muscular, like a pronouncement from 
                Mount Olympus. Great interpreters of bygone days, such as Furtwängler, 
                Klemperer or Walter, emphasised the monumental nature of Beethoven’s 
                symphonies with large-scale playing, big sound and often luxurious 
                tempi. The standard benchmark for this style – often inaccurately, 
                in my view – was Karajan’s 1962 set with the Berlin Philharmonic, 
                the first Beethoven series that was planned and recorded as a 
                cycle. Hugely influential in its day, Karajan’s Beethoven seemed 
                to lay down a template that many other conductors followed. Then 
                with the rise of the period performance movement, and especially 
                in the 1990s, attitudes to Beethoven changed, and with the emergence 
                of interpreters like Norrington, Harnoncourt, Mackerras and Zinman 
                a new style of Beethoven playing emerged: lean, lithe, smaller-scale 
                and more transparent. This then became the new orthodoxy, and 
                even venerable institutions like the Vienna Philharmonic adopted 
                it in their 2002 set with Simon Rattle. The achievement of Christian 
                Thielemann, in this new Beethoven cycle, also with the Vienna 
                Philharmonic, is to argue a convincing case that the older style 
                of Beethoven playing is still relevant to the 21
st 
                century and that the muscular, broader approach to Beethoven even 
                now has something to say. 
                  
                Right from the start it is apparent that Thielemann is, for want 
                of a better phrase, an old-school conductor in his approach to 
                Beethoven, but that isn’t to say that he hasn’t learnt anything 
                from the discoveries of period practitioners like Harnoncourt 
                and Zinman: rather he has listened to their revelations and responded 
                to them in his own unique way, producing a Beethoven approach 
                that is distinctly his own. The booklet notes for these DVDs describe 
                Thielemann as seeking “to restore to the Classical and Romantic 
                repertory the sort of musical riches and unprecedented expressivity 
                that we associate with a conductor like Wilhelm Furtwängler”. 
                It’s a big claim, but it’s not as simple as that. The critic and 
                musicologist Joachim Kaiser, who presents all the extra documentaries, 
                describes Thielemann as “an adventurous conservative”, and that’s 
                a much better way to put it. Thielemann combines the best of the 
                old with the best of the new, producing an organic, vitally alive 
                Beethoven cycle with its roots in the old school but with some 
                period influences too. 
                  
                The first things I listened to in this set were the two overtures. 
                Thielemann’s slow, monumental approach to the opening of 
Egmont 
                makes it much more powerful and accentuates the contrast with 
                the 
Allegro, and this characterises his way with the symphonies 
                too. His 
First begins slowly and with a monumental edge, 
                but this enables him to keep something in reserve for later so 
                that the Menuet has undeniable “oomph”. Likewise, in the 
Second 
                the introduction is unashamedly a slow one, and it is all the 
                more effective for that. When it begins, the main section of the 
                movement is really 
con brio, bristling with energy 
                and crackling with style; judging from the musicians’ faces they 
                are clearly enjoying themselves. Thielemann takes the 
Larghetto 
                at what is - for today - a daringly unhurried tempo, making it 
                mellow and very beautiful, and here, as throughout this cycle, 
                there is an incomparable blend to the Vienna string sound which 
                really comes alive in DTS surround sound. I loved the way Thielemann 
                obviously teases out every phrase, extracting every ounce of beauty 
                and meaning. Some might call this ponderous, but it’s all of a 
                piece with his vision for Beethoven and, for me, it really worked. 
                Real sharpness of attack cranks up the 
Scherzo to the 
nth 
                degree and the finale goes off with the energy of a Catherine 
                Wheel. In the accompanying documentary Thielemann denies entirely 
                the idea of a great gulf between the Second and Third Symphonies: 
                instead he sees one as a natural next step after the other and 
                I, for one, was convinced. This big, ballsy approach works just 
                as well for the 
Eighth, in no way a miniature symphony 
                when performed like this. The first movement explodes off the 
                page, and the menuet has as much swagger as the scherzo has delicacy. 
                The finale is electric too. 
                  
                The most important thing about Thielemann’s Beethoven is that 
                it is responsive and alive. For many this may also be the most 
                controversial thing about it too, particularly in his approach 
                to tempi, which is remarkably flexible. I doubt he has taken much 
                heed of Beethoven’s metronome markings, but even if he had then 
                he disregards them freely as and when he needs to. With 
Coriolan, 
                for example, he pulls the tempo around all over the place for 
                dramatic effect, with an 
accelerando here and a 
rallentando 
                there. It lends colour and drama to the pacing and, for me, it 
                worked, but I can appreciate how it might infuriate others. This 
                is true of his approach to the symphonies too, but it’s more controversial. 
                In the opening of the 
Eroica, for example, he adopts a 
                myriad different tempi for the different sections of the movement: 
                even in the first statement of the first subject there are plenty 
                of ralls and hesitations before the subject unfolds fully. During 
                the run-up to the crashing discords of the development the movement 
                threatens to grind to a halt completely, before speeding up as 
                the oboe theme enters. For me it’s an effective – and quite exciting 
                – depiction of the drama of chaos and renewal, but some will find 
                it off-putting. 
                  
                There are also times when I think Thielemann’s approach to tempi 
                seems too self-conscious, most damagingly in the opening burst 
                of the finale of the 
Fifth. After what had been a very 
                exciting and purposeful account of the symphony so far, Thielemann 
                slows up dramatically for the first two bars of the finale with 
                the entry of the extra brass, but then speeds up enormously for 
                bar three onwards. He then adopts the same strategy for the exposition 
                repeat and the recapitulation. To my ears this distends the music 
                and distorts it to the point of wilfulness. It wrecks the sense 
                of organic growth that had been present in the music thus far. 
                In the 
Ninth it is much more successful though - particularly 
                in the first and last movements. The first subject emerges from 
                the opening like the sun from a gas cloud and builds up a titanic 
                power that never lets up. Furthermore, the finale’s contrasting 
                moods seem almost to give Thielemann 
carte blanche to try 
                out every technique in his armoury, which he does to scintillating 
                effect. The opening paragraph is responsive and dynamic, like 
                an operatic recitative, and an elongated pause before the first 
                appearance of the 
Ode to Joy theme gives its unfolding 
                a sense of cumulative power that builds steadily. The great double 
                fugue after the “Turkish” section is a core piece of the architecture: 
                he slows down in the lead up to it, making it burst onto the stage 
                with electric power, and then slows down drastically in the lead-up 
                to the joyous, full statement of the 
Ode, rendering it 
                all the more ebullient. The ensuing sections are all very different, 
                but 
Seid umschlungen seems to be, for him, the central 
                core of the whole work. Soloists are all very good, though Zeppenfeld’s 
                bass doesn’t have the clarion quality it needs. The choral singing 
                is also excellent, and the DTS surround really comes into its 
                own here. 
                  
                In some ways it is the most rhythmically unstable symphonies that 
                are the most successful. The 
Seventh presents Thielemann 
                with a real challenge which he meets triumphantly, shaping a living, 
                breathing organism from Beethoven’s notes. I have seldom heard 
                the bounce of the last two movements of the 
Fourth played 
                so convincingly as here. Referring to the 
Fourth’s finale, 
                Thielemann says that the players and conductor must have absolutely 
                rigorous control in order to evoke an atmosphere of the music 
                spiralling out of control. This is done very successfully, but 
                could just as easily apply to the whole of the 
Seventh 
                too. The 
Pastoral is also a delight: warm and expansive 
                with a real feeling of joy in its enjoyment of the natural and 
                spiritual worlds, though the entry of the brass in the storm could 
                have been more decisive. 
                  
                In some ways this is a try-before-you-buy set, as Thielemann’s 
                interpretative decisions won’t be to everyone’s taste. However, 
                the playing and the presentation surely will. The Vienna Philharmonic 
                clearly enjoy a very close relationship with this conductor and 
                they seem to relish the opportunity to play with him. The beauty 
                of the string sound and the character of the wind playing are 
                second to none, and they are captured brilliantly in the splendour 
                of the Muskiverein. Furthermore, the quality of the surround sound 
                is excellent: the centre speaker is perhaps a little too prominent, 
                but the immersive experience is most effective. Each director 
                manages to capture the picture well too, putting the eye where 
                the ear suggests it should be, though Agnes Méth’s filming of 
                the 
Eroica is the least successful, choppy and unsure of 
                itself at times. 
                  
                The other USP of this set is the series of accompanying documentaries. 
                Each symphony has an individual film lasting between 50 and 60 
                minutes, analysing the background of the work and deconstructing 
                Thielemann’s interpretation. The presenter of each documentary 
                is Joachim Kaiser, the grand old man of German music criticism. 
                In each film he gives his own view of the symphony and then engages 
                Thielemann in a conversation to tease out why Thielemann has come 
                to the interpretations he has. I was quite excited about watching 
                these, but they weren’t as revelatory as I hoped they would be. 
                The main problem is that too much of each film consists merely 
                of repeating the footage of the symphony you have just watched. 
                For the shorter symphonies more than half of the running time 
                comprises simply repeating what you have already seen. The most 
                successful documentary is the one on the 
Ninth, partly 
                because of what is said about it but also because there is less 
                space for mere repetition. Kaiser and Thielemann enjoy sparking 
                ideas off one another and much of what they say is interesting 
                and memorable. We also get some very interesting comparisons with 
                other filmed Beethoven symphonies from Karajan, Bernstein and 
                Paavo Järvi. In truth, though, while they may have been fairly 
                interesting for understanding Thielemann’s approach, I can’t say 
                they fundamentally altered my view of Beethoven’s symphonies beyond 
                a little insight here or there. 
                  
                Still, even without these documentaries this set would demand 
                the attention of most music-lovers. Thielemann’s Beethoven is 
                rigorous, intellectual and well considered, even if you don’t 
                always agree with him, and the playing is outstanding throughout. 
                Unitel has given us an interpretation which won’t replace the 
                classics but is worthy to sit alongside them, a bold attempt to 
                recapture and redefine Beethoven for the 21
st century. 
                
                
  
                Simon Thompson 
                  
                
                  
                Full details:-
Ludwig van BEETHOVEN (1770-1827)
The Complete Symphonies (+ Coriolan and Egmont overtures)
Symphony No. 1 [27:52]
Symphony No. 2 [34:07]
Symphony No. 3 [56:58]
Symphony No. 4 [37:33]
Symphony No. 5 [34:34]
Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral” [46:15]
Symphony No. 7 [37:11]
Symphony No. 8 [28:16]
Symphony No. 9 [72:31]
Coriolan Overture [10:28]
Egmont Overture [10:58]
Extras: Discovering Beethoven: a documentary about each symphony where Christian Thielemann discusses his interpretation with musicologist Joachim Kaiser (each documentary c. 55 minutes long)
Annette Dasch (soprano), Mihoko Fujimura (alto), Piotr Beczala (tenor), Georg Zeppenfeld (bass); Wiener Singverein; Wiener Philharmoniker/Christian Thielemann
rec. Nos. 1-2 and Coriolan: December 2008, directed by Brian Large; Nos. 3-4: March 2009, directed by Agnes Méth; Nos. 5-6: April 2010, directed by Karina Fibich; Nos. 7-8 and Egmont Overture: November 2009, directed by Michael Beyer; No. 9: April 2010, directed by Agnes Méth
Filmed in High Definition, Picture Format 16:9, Sound Formats PCM Stereo, DTS 5.0, Region Code 0
Full details listed at end of review
UNITEL C MAJOR 703508 [9 DVDs: Music: 446:00; Documentaries: 510:00]