Gig: Mariinsky Orchestra

Mariinsky Orchestra

Roy Thompson Hall. Tuesday, March 16, 2010.

Another one of those chances to see how the other half lives. Not the sort of thing that I'd usually be seen at, but when Roy Thompson Hall sent out an offer of twenty dollar tickets for a bunch of shows, I gave the list a quick once over, not thinking there'd be anything for me. But my eye was caught by one thing. I did some quick checking, and indeed I had seen The Mariinsky Orchestra¹ (out of St. Petersburg, Russia) not too long before on the big screen, in Aleksandr Sokurov's Russian Ark. That minor synchronicity made it seem like a cool idea to grab a ticket.

It actually turned out to be good value for money. Looking it up, I was paying less than half of normal face value for what turned out to be a good enough seat for the likes of me. It was in the back row of the upper ring at Roy Thompson Hall, yes, but in a section that was around to the side enough to be directly perpendicular to the stage, giving a very nice view of the orchestra and conductor.

The conductor was Valery Gergiev, who is, as it turns out, about as big a name as it gets in this game. To watch him conducting was quite a delight, for there was far less restraint in his gestures than one might have expected for a guy carrying such a highbrow rep. Tall and lanky, he employed body language that brought to mind John Cleese with his long-limbed exciteability. When the tempo of the music built up to its height, he was actually nearly hopping, and a couple times I wondered to myself that if any member of the orchestra should make a mistake while he was in such a state whether or not he'd dash off the stage and return with the branch of a tree to give them a damn good thrashing.

This, of course, made for some fine additional entertainment to go along with the music. The first piece, Hector Berlioz' Les Troyens felt pretty cerebral, more of a clearing of the throat and a look-what-we-can-do gesture. Selections from Berlioz' Roméo et Juliette — a "symphonie dramatique", which includes, in its full form, choral sections not reproduced here — had a more jaunty feel and perhaps, unsurprisingly, a more pronounced narrative arc.

As is pretty much always the case on hearing classical music, I was captivated by the the impressive range of dynamics at play, with the orchestra going from quietness to booming intensity in a way that is lost with your amplified/electrified types of music. The Berlioz was interesting stuff, but somewhat reserved — perhaps too much for the crowd. "Well," one guy said, as he was making his way for the exit as the intermission began, "I've never been so ready for Tchaikovsky."

And then a chance to wander around a bit during the break, soak in the surroundings and consider the crowd. At least I wasn't the most dressed-down individual on the premises — I passed a dude wearing a Ramones t-shirt and leather jacket, cigarette package stuffed in his pocket. But on the whole, the crowd mostly conformed to what you'd think: older, more affulent looking types. Not for nothing was one of the evening's sponsors a provider of "personal banking services", which left me thinking the personal service they'd extend to me would be to have the security guard escort me back to the street. But I digress.

There was certainly a different feel to the second part of the programme. The switch from Berlioz to Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5 in E minor felt like going from Masterpiece Theatre to General Hospital — which is to say this was a lot more populist and easy-to-grasp in its unabashed and unrestrained emotionality. Plus there was a more tangible musical throughline in the jaunty thematic motif that recurred throughout. If the cynic were to think that this was like the sweet cake following the its-good-for-you vegetables of the first half, it should be noted that the orchestra threw themselves into this with gusto, Gergiev most of all. Conducting without a score — which boggles the mind when you consider this was a forty-five minute piece — his gesticulations were even more intense than previously.

There were parts that were just this side of overbearing sentimentality — including the second movement french horn solo that is said to have been pilfered by John Denver for "Annie's Song". But in a sure sign of expert emotional manipulation, the goopiest parts of the music were perhaps the most affecting. The ending had just the right amount of bombast — though I think it's considered to be rather too over the top for true sophisticates. At any rate, the crowd offered up an enormous standing ovation, three minutes long, with numerous curtain calls for Gergiev.

Returning for an encore, the orchestra played the "Polonaise" from Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin,² which the orchestra played with house-on-fire quickness. A jaunty ending to the night.

Very enjoyable overall, and I left pondering whether this seemed like an extra-cool time because it was relatively unusual for me. Were music like this more within my means, I would probably go to more of it. But on the other hand, it's not bad to have some things that you like but whose presence marks a special occasion.

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¹ Known in the Soviet times as the Kirov, and also known for their very famous ballet company.

² To be clear, I had no notion at all what the piece was — it fell into that wide category of classical pieces that I know I've heard somewhere but could never identify. But I did ask around.