When a concert opens with screeching strings straight out of Psycho, you know you’re in for a wild night. Especially if Beethoven rides to the rescue. That may be a hyperbolic take on a bold bit of programming by the Czech Philharmonic, but it captures the essence of a riveting evening of horror and heroism rendered by three A-list talents: conductor Sir Antonio Pappano, choirmaster Simon Halsey and pianist Víkingur Ólafsson.
The horror sprang from Il prigioniero (The prisoner), a one-act opera written originally for radio in the late 1940s by Luigi Dallapiccola. Born from the ashes of World War 2, it tells the harrowing story of a nameless prisoner being held during the Spanish Inquisition who is on the verge of escape when a tragic reversal brings a different kind of freedom – his death. The totalitarian theme is universal but the music is not, written in the 12-tone style created by Arnold Schoenberg and particularly difficult to perform, especially for singers.
Pappano brought this music to life with terrifying intensity, crafting razor-sharp sounds from the strings, mocking brass, woodwinds like jangled nerve endings and thunderous percussion. There are moments of hope in the narrative, which he gave a soft glow, and powerful visuals as the prisoner gropes his way to escape that he evoked in ominous outbursts. The piece is played mostly by sections rather than the full orchestra, and under Pappano’s baton there was an uneasy sense of never knowing where the next slashing attack would come from. That he held it all together with organic integrity seemed a small miracle, particularly in shaping a seamless narrative flow.
Halsey’s world class expertise with choral music showed in an electrifying performance by the Prague Philharmonic Choir. Their sound was like a three-dimensional wall behind the orchestra, mirroring the tension and tumult across a dynamic range of ear-ringing entreaties to God and sotto voce pleas for release. A crisp atonal edge added to the anguished atmosphere. Of the three principal soloists, soprano Ángeles Blancas Gulín made the strongest impression as a fierce, distraught mother of the prisoner. In the title role, baritone Brian Mulligan supplemented distressed vocals with expressive acting, and tenor Valentyn Dytiuk added color to several smaller roles.
After intermission, uplift came in the form of Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto, with Ólafsson offering a surprisingly straightforward interpretation. The Icelandic pianist is a master technician who played with superb balance and great clarity; not a single note seemed lost or out of place. But he started out in a cooly deliberate style that sounded almost mechanical at times, warming up mostly in sensitive solos. This may have been partly to keep up with Pappano, who led a muscular, high volume version of the piece, giving it dramatic impact that would overshadow a subtle soloist. Otherwise it was an impressive collaboration that featured perfect split-second timing between soloist, conductor and orchestra.
And for anyone who missed Ólafsson’s iconoclastic approach, he offered an elegant Bach encore which showed him at his distinctive best, deeply focused and highly individualized.
For the orchestra, the evening was another remarkable display of versatility. Many ensembles can offer credible performances of both Romantic and modern music, but not with the elan of the Czech Philharmonic. The orchestra’s rich expression and innate musicality lend an extra dimension to everything it does, especially with a conductor like Pappano, who knows how to take full advantage of its resources and gifts. Even in prison, it’s magical.
