Above: pianist Dénes Várjon
~ Author: Oberon
Sunday January 14th, 2018 - The Budapest Festival Orchestra, with Iván Fischer on the podium, in an afternoon concert at David Geffen Hall as part of the Lincoln Center's Great Performers series. I loved the configuration of the players onstage, with the basses on the top riser, dead-center; the BFO produce a solid-gold sound of Olde World cordiality.
The matinee opened with an ensemble of eight musicians from the orchestra performing Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 2 in B-minor (ca.1738-1739) on period instruments. Flautist Gabriella Pivon piped up appealingly as this beloved music was offered up for us, so heart-warming on this frigid day. The pacing was lively, and the closing movement an especial treat. Was there a sense of variable pitch that came and went in the course of the piece, or is that a 'period instrument' illusion? At any rate, it was so nice to hear this music again; it's always fresh.
Dénes Várjon then joined the orchestra for what was a truly revelatory performance of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3 in C-minor (1800–03). Within the course of a half-hour this afternoon, Mr. Várjon soared into my highest echelon of favorite musicians.
Following the concerto's rather lengthy, mood-setting introduction for orchestra, Mr. Várjon commenced with a striking, up-sweeping passage, and it was evident that we were in the presence of a master pianist. Immediately we can savour his big yet silken style and his lively, detailed technique. As the opening movement carried forward, I was increasingly mesmerized by the pianist's hands, which were captivating in a rising series of trills followed by a dizzying downward cascade of notes. Mr. Várjon made a majestic start to the cadenza, which gave me chills of rapture as it progressed with immaculate, shimmering trills. The hushed re-entry of the timpani and orchestra that followed was a moment of sheer magic.
The opening of the Largo found me in a highly emotional state as the pianist commenced the pensive solo measures with a reverential feeling. The orchestra again made a spine-tingling entrance, and the descending bass line had a heart-rending effect. The piano floated intoxicatingly thru heavenly clouds of gentle wind voices over plucked strings. Mr. Várjon's next entry was whispered as if in a dream, the orchestra joining to gorgeous effect. The descending bass motif returns, moving me to tears...just sublime.
The pianist launched immediately into the Rondo-finale, a minor-key dance in which he produced fabulous scales. The clarinet commences a second theme, then the principal theme bounces back, played as a fugue. Mr. Várjon's delightful playing holds sway as the concerto swirls to a joyous end. The audience burst into tumultuous applause as the final chord hovered on the air, and everyone stood up in a vociferous homage to the pianist. His solo bow drew another avalanche of cheers. Calming the crowd, Mr. Várjon offered a Bartók folk setting as an encore. It was perfect.
Mr. Várjon and the orchestra had given me one of the concerto experiences of a lifetime; few pianists - indeed, few musicians - have reached me on this level, and part of me wanted to stay in Mr. Várjon's realm, far from the dust and decay of the present world-state. It's reassuring to know such depth of beauty is always there, and that - with the help of great artists - we can escape to it...even if only for a few fleeting moments.
Following the interval, Maestro Fischer (above) and the Budapest players gave a sonically marvelous performance of Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 2 in E minor (1906–07). The richness of sound generated by the orchestra, and the superb solo playing of the various principals, made for a particularly gratifying listening experience. This, however, did not preclude a feeling that this symphony seems to over-stay its welcome.
Rachmaninoff milks his famous Hollywoodian theme: it's gorgeous the first half-dozen times, and then - like an hi-calorie dessert - it reaches a saturation point. It's a very long piece, however well-played, and stretched the program to the two-and-a-half hour mark. During this time, watching Maestro Fischer's animated conducting was a prize in itself; at one point he was cuing his players with pugilistic jabs.
I should add that my personal reaction to the Rachmaninoff 2nd was clearly in the vein of a minority report. At the final chord, the audience collectively leaped up and unleashed a torrent of applause and bravos.
~ Oberon