Top praise for Cristian Măcelaru in Cincinnati Business Courier
Photo Credit: Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra
REVIEW: Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra unleashes monumental power in Shostakovich’s 11th Symphony under Măcelaru
By Janelle Gelfand
Cincinnati Business Courier
February 3, 2024
On paper, the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra’s program featuring Lutoslawski’s rarely played Cello Concerto and Shostakovich’s hourlong Symphony No. 11, “The Year 1905” may have seemed daunting to some listeners. But the performances of these works at the Feb. 2 daytime concert in Music Hall proved to be thrilling, even revelatory.
The colorful explanation delivered by cellist Kian Soltani about Lutoslawski’s Cello Concerto was eye-opening. Later, the majestic performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 11 by the Cincinnati Symphony under guest conductor Cristian Măcelaru offered vivid storytelling at its best.
The audience approved with standing ovations, and many left the hall animatedly discussing what they had heard.
Written for cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, Witold Lutoslawski’s Cello Concerto of 1970 is bursting with originality. It is fiercely difficult. It plumbs the heights and depths of emotions. It’s witty. It unfolds in four, unbroken movements, which Soltani called “chapters.” Each chapter is highly theatrical.
It’s curious that this concerto is not performed more often. The CSO’s first performance of the Cello Concerto was in 1983 with Michael Gielen and Yo-Yo Ma. The most recent was in 1992 by cellist Lynn Harrell under Jesús López-Cobos, a performance that repeated at Carnegie Hall.
“It tells a very powerful story. At the heart of this story is an individual against a big mass,” said Soltani, referring to the musicians behind him.
Soltani, born in 1992 in Bregenz, Austria to a family of Persian musicians, enjoys a stellar career and has a recording contract with Deutsche Grammophon. He possesses the stunning technique needed to tackle this extraordinary work. Even in the most intense moments, he communicated with an exquisite sound and peerless intonation on his rare Antonio Stradivari cello, “The London, ex Boccherini.”
The cellist began the solitary Introduction with repeating notes on D, an expressionless exercise without orchestra. The cellist soon interrupted his own monologue with agitated passages, fleeting motives, glissandos and disconnected but inventive ideas.
Trumpets burst upon this mood in a chaotic chatter, causing the audience to chuckle out loud. The cellist competed against a counterpoint of drumming in the percussion section, pizzicato strings and flourishes in the piano. Throughout the movement’s “Four Episodes,” he was the insistent protagonist, tossing off galloping “spiccato” passages and treacherous technical feats as if he was born to do this.
It wasn’t until the third movement, “Cantilena,” that we had a taste of Soltani’s expressive power, as his long haunting phrases played out against the orchestra’s slithering strings. He leaned back, and the effect was deeply interior, almost romantic. Lutoslawski’s orchestral palette was at its most stunning. The mesmerizing moment dissolved with a glimmer of celesta and piano.
The brass section made its strident entrance in the Finale, a wild chase between orchestra and cello that Soltani described as “all-out war.” With the orchestra at full throttle, the cellist tackled every virtuosity in his quiver in an impassioned burst of energy, but his notes died away, nevertheless. However, it wasn’t over yet -- the composer gave the soloist a coda, in which he soared triumphantly to an intense high note. Măcelaru and the orchestra were wonderful partners, and the conductor was attentive to the unique orchestral colors that populate this work.
Listeners were rapt and rose cheering at its conclusion. For an encore, Soltani performed a piece of his own composition, “Introduction and Persian Fire Dance.” The slow introduction featured extraordinary double stops consisting of a low drone with the melody above in high harmonics. The fiery dance evoked Persian folk melodies and included tapping on his instrument.
After intermission, Măcelaru led Shostakovich’s monumental Symphony No. 11 in G Minor. The Romanian-born Măcelaru is music director of the Orchestre National de France, which will play a major role in the opening ceremony of the Paris Summer Olympics in July. The busy Grammy-winning conductor also is chief conductor of the WDR Sinfonieorchester in Cologne, Germany, and artistic director of the George Enescu Festival and competition, among several other posts.
The conductor moved little as he led Shostakovich’s vast symphonic canvas, but the sheer visceral impact of this performance lingered long afterward. First performed in 1957, the Eleventh Symphony, subtitled “The Year 1905,” is one of Shostakovich’s most powerful and most political symphonies. It looks back to an incident known as “Bloody Sunday” on Jan. 9, when thousands of workers, intellectuals and their families peacefully assembled to petition the Tsar at the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg. Cossack soldiers fired on the huge crowd and slaughtered hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the unarmed civilians who packed the square.
Coming from a composer who also wrote film scores, the symphony is cinematic in the way it depicts the events of that horrific day. Shostakovich wove revolutionary songs and workers’ songs into the tapestry, a striking touch that may be lost on today’s American listeners, but which the Soviet populace would have recognized.
It opened on “The Palace Square” to the eerie atmosphere of muted strings and two harps depicting the empty square on a frigid day. Out of that stillness, a trumpet call, the tapping of a snare drum, and other melodies begin to emerge. The conductor led seamlessly into the intense drama of “The 9th of January,” beginning with agitated playing by the low strings and building to a climax of powerful onslaughts by the brass and pounding timpani. Piercing rhythms by the percussionists depicted gunfire. A violent fugue began in the basses and traveled through the strings. As the gunfire died, the winds played a soft chorale, with a piccolo floating above. There was eerie stillness, the stillness of death, with only a mournful tune in the celesta, the muted sound of trumpet fanfares and a distant snare drum.
It was all vividly and emotionally expressed by the musicians, who played fervently from beginning to end. Măcelaru led its insistent rhythms steadily, and with driving, relentless power.
The third movement, “In Memoriam,” is funeral music, based on the “Workers Funeral March.” Here, the viola section phrased the theme with breathtaking solemnity. The poignant interlude included the dark sheen of the trombones and refined contributions by the horns. Most impressive was the transparent sound that the conductor achieved in the strings in a sweeping, emotional outpouring.
The finale, “Tocsin,” refers to an ancient Russian gong that sounded the alarm. In this movement, the full power of the orchestra was unleashed in all its glory. There was tension in every measure, bite in the strings, clipped rhythms, crashing cymbals, and the intensity of full orchestra playing in unison. The music of “The Palace Square” returned like a vision. Principal English hornist Christopher Philpotts played its mournful melody with heart stopping beauty. The conclusion was a cacophonous mix of drumrolls, swirling winds and cries in the brass. Listeners were left with only a ringing bell, as if to warn that the winds of war will return.
The orchestra, which has performed wonderfully all season, was at its finest. Among the many exceptional orchestral soloists, the new principal trumpet Anthony Limoncelli delivered his phrases eloquently.
The audience rose with lengthy ovations, and the orchestra also applauded the guest conductor.
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