God’s wrath, in the form of the medieval plainchant Dies Irae, occupied Müpa Budapest’s Béla Bartók Hall on Sunday, 6 November.
Perhaps the ghost of pianist/conductor Zoltán Kocsis, to whom the concert was dedicated, was speaking to us through various musical selections he was noted for: Liszt’s Totentanz, and two voluminous yet thorny pieces by Rachmaninoff. Most of them used the Dies Irae theme in a variety of treatments.
Kocsis’ ghost could also have been lurking among the musicians of the Hungarian National Philharmonic Orchestra, which he had conducted from 1997 until his death on 6th of November, 2016. This concert was planned as a vivid memorial to his remarkable pianistic and conducting career.
Perhaps this event’s conductor Martin Rajna and pianist Olga Kern also conspired to bring on the dark forces that were lurking since the recent Day of the Dead. Her muscular attack on the Totentanz: Paraphrase on Dies Irae (for piano and orchestra) effectively set off a fire-bomb in the room. The former gold-medalist of the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition and the Rachmaninoff Piano Competition plowed through the knuckle-buster with the same pianistic fury that resembled Koscis’s keyboard legacy.
The Isle of the Dead, a lesser-known orchestral work by Rachmaninoff, was an integral part of the dark and stormy gloom. Here, Rajna demonstrated his prowess in shaping this intensely descriptive and layered masterpiece of slowly-built passion that rises out the depths, ending in a spooky reference to Dies Irae. The work is based on the composer’s observing a black-and-white photo of a painting of the same name by the Swiss symbolist Arnold Böcklin. The painting was so evocative that Sigmund Freud kept a copy of it on his wall.
In an email interview about this unusual piece, Rajna said: “At the first reading of the score I thought the piece [was] over-orchestrated, but after the first rehearsal it was clear immediately, that Rachmaninoff keeps the whole sound consciously dark and blurred.” I was personally grateful to hear this work, as it is very rarely programmed and calls for a large orchestra, including six horns. Rajna’s treatment of it brought out all the sepulchral danger of a haunted soul-fortress.
Rajna then led the orchestra and Kern through the same composer’s Rhapsody on a theme by Paganini with flair and subtlety, while Kern tossed off the zillions of lightning-speed notes, moods, jazzy riffs, and a mention of the Dies Irae in one somber section. They both bathed in the ultra-romantic Variation #18’s wave of ecstasy with a heady mix of control and abandon.
Kern, in her flowing red and white gown that had a long trail artfully draped behind her, spoke to the audience of her appreciation of Kocsis, and said she had chosen as her encore Liszt’s Consolation No.3, “in his honor.” Her rendition was full of affection and reverence.
Kocsis’ orchestration of Liszt’s sweet piano piece, Ave Maria, made curious use of gongs and bells, as well as a xylophone to paint a magical symphonic portrait of angelic prayer. The concert’s closer was Liszt’s Mazeppa, an orchestral work based on an epic poem by Victor Hugo about a Ukrainian nobleman who, during a time of brutal punishment, was rescued by Ukrainian Cossacks. His triumph is clearly scored with plenty of heraldic brass and triumphant marches. Mazeppa’s built-in fortuitousness was an ideal way to conquer God’s wrath, and I’m sure Kocsis was listening and nodded his approval.