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Czech Philharmonic Brings Dvorák's Stabat Mater to Berkeley

Janos Gereben on November 12, 2014
Czech Philharmonic's string section and women of the Prague Philharmonic Choir
Photo by Michael Robinson Chavez

 

 

Unspeakable grief connected with music of life-affirming beauty is even more direct and causal for Antonín Dvořákʼs 1877 Stabat Mater than in case of Mahler's 1904 Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the death of children).

Mahler lost a four-year-old daughter after writing the song cycle; Dvořák faced the deaths of three very young children preceding his composition on the text of the medieval hymn about the suffering of Mary at the Crucifixion.

Stabat Mater ... fully reflects the subjectʼs mournful nature, but without sentimentality, and inevitably leading to the finaleʼs acceptance and power.

The Czech Philharmonic's performance of the Stabat Mater Sunday afternoon in Zellerbach Hall made a striking, memorable case for this mighty 90-minute cantata. The orchestra also made note of the special occasion: Nov. 9, the 25th anniversary of tearing down the Berlin Wall, a pivotal moment in the liberation from Soviet domination, a life-changing day for all East Europeans.

Jirí Belohlávek (Photo: Petra Hajska)


The great Czech maestro Jirí Belohlávek, long associated with the Czech Philharmonic, (at times through conflict and temporary separation), conducted a measured, understated, moving performance with the orchestra of some 100 musicians, four splendid soloists, and Lukáš Vasilekʼs 40-voice Prague Philharmonic Choir.

The Zellerbach stage was filled within an inch of capacity, and yet the sound did not reflect the size of the assembled forces. Belohlávekʼs direction in service of the work and Zellerbachʼs poor acoustics happily conjoined to produce an eerily wonderful entrance for the chorus, after the lengthy orchestral introduction, to sing of “How she grieved and suffered, this Holy Mother, as she saw the agonies of her Son.”

With the relatively small chorus upstage, behind the large orchestra, the voices came as if from a great distance, the intended balance helped by the hallʼs reflection of sound. Still, at the concluding and only forceful section — “Quando corpus morietur” (When my body dies) — the same chorus sang up a storm.

Dvořák — other than some of the symphonies, some of his chamber music, and Rusalka — is not getting much play in the U.S., and thatʼs especially true of the Stabat Mater (and the operas The Cunning Peasant and The Jacobin), so much so that a couple of prominent, local musicians at Zellerbach told me itʼs the first time they had heard a live performance. (The Bay Area lucked out with the program because, on this tour, the Czech musicians in several other locations performed instead ... wait for it! ... the New World Symphony, Dvořákʼs most frequently heard work, along with the Slavonic Dances.)

Stabat Mater in the right hands, such as Belohlávekʼs (along with Sawallish, Kubelik, and Rilling), fully reflects the subjectʼs mournful nature, but without sentimentality, and inevitably leading to the finaleʼs acceptance and power. With unprecedented and affecting simplicity, a four-note figure runs through all but the last of ten sections — dominant in the first two — creating a hypnotic setting similar to a lullaby.

With the Philharmonicʼs strings speaking with one voice and wonderful woodwind solos (and adequate brass, which has a relatively small role), the soothing, repetitive sound lulls the listener into a peaceful state to deal with the suffering of Mary and the death of Jesus. Oboists Ivan Sequardt and Jana Brožková, concertmaster Josef Špacek Jr., and principal cellist Václav Petr deserve special mention, but the most important aspect of the Philharmonicʼs performance under Belohlávekʼs direction was the nearly flawless ensemble playing.

The four vocal soloists, each with a sizeable role, made a big impression. Tenor Jaroslav Březina was born to sing oratorio, which has vocal requirements that are different from opera or lieder. Březinaʼs medium-large voice has a special clarity and musicality, with unaffected power and grace, and the best diction on stage. (The otherwise fine chorus conveyed little of the Latin text.)

Bass Jan Martiník kept his large, sonorous voice in check to blend into the ensemble, letting go moderately and effective in his lengthy solo. Soprano Lucie Silkenová and mezzo Dagmar Pecková both excelled in their solos. Silkenová impressed with a soaring but disciplined performance — emphasis on the music, not the voice, as it should be.