For better or worse, whenever I think of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3, I can’t help but remember John Gielgud in the 1996 film “Shine.” Can it really have been 29 years ago?
Gielgud addresses Noah Taylor, as the psychologically frail Australian pianist David Helfgott, in Yoda-like bromides, cautioning him against the hazards of the “Rach 3” and shepherding him through a training sequence pitched somewhere between Dagobah and “The Mask of Zorro.” I guess this is effective shorthand for the masses, communicating the concerto’s challenges in a concise, three-minute montage that honestly has very little to do with the music.
“Shine” was showered with Oscar love in 1997 – the recipient of seven Academy Award nominations and a Best Actor trophy for Geoffrey Rush – but no amount of “pop” corn can convey the true drama of arguably Rachmaninoff’s most intense masterpiece, which can be heard on two concerts of the Princeton Symphony Orchestra this weekend. PSO favorite Natasha Paremski will be the soloist. Rossen Milanov will conduct at Princeton University’s Richardson Auditorium.
The Westminster Symphonic Choir will also appear, on the program’s first half, to perform Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky’s “Hymn to the Cherubim” from the “Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom” and Johannes Brahms’ “Schicksalslied” (“Song of Destiny”).
All the shine will be in the music, tonight at 8:00 and tomorrow afternoon at 4:00. For tickets and information, visit princetonsymphony.org.
As April Fool’s Day and Rachmaninoff’s birthday elide, here are two funny men in recordings that take the composer rather seriously.
Oscar Levant rode his neuroses and mordant wit to fame as a popular panelist on radio and television, the disheveled, chain-smoking second banana in motion pictures, and author of books with titles such as “A Smattering of Ignorance,” “The Memoirs of an Amnesiac,” and “The Unimportance of Being Oscar.” But he was also one of the most respected champions of the music of George Gershwin, a composer who studied with Arnold Schoenberg, and a serious pianist who performed and recorded the standard concerto repertoire with the New York Philharmonic and the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Here, Oscar plays it straight, with Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G major, Op. 32, No. 5.
The pianist Victor Borge also displayed a genius for comedic improv, early in his career segueing from standard concert recitals to his signature cocktails of music and humor. His Broadway hit, “Comedy in Music,” entered the Guinness Book for the longest run of a one-person show (849 performances, from 1953 to 1956). In the 1960s, Borge was one of the highest-paid entertainers in the world.
Like Levant, he had his personal demons, but their source would appear to have been circumstantial rather than psychological. He attained early popularity in Scandinavia (Borge was born in Denmark), but as his extensive touring took him all over Europe, a Jew getting laughs with anti-Nazi jokes didn’t exactly endear him to Adolf Hitler. When German forces occupied Denmark, Borge hopped a U.S. Army transport out of Finland – though he would return, not long after, disguised as a sailor, to visit his dying mother.
He arrived in the United States in 1940, with 20 dollars in his pocket and no understanding of English. But he was a fast learner, and he taught himself the language by going to American movies.
Here, all jokes aside, Borge plays Rachmaninoff’s arrangement of Fritz Kreisler’s “Liebesleid” (“Love’s Sorrow”).
Kreisler was one of the world’s great violinists. A famous anecdote relates that he and Rachmaninoff were giving a concert in New York. In the middle of a performance, Kreisler suffered a memory lapse, and as he noodled around on his violin, trying to find his way back, he inched closer to his pianist and whispered, “Where are we?” To which Rachmaninoff replied, “Carnegie Hall.”
Rachmaninoff gets the last laugh on April Fool’s Day, as he performs Kreisler’s “Liebesfreud” (“Love’s Joy”).
Ruth Slenczynska, believed to be the last living pupil of Sergei Rachmaninoff, was born 100 years ago today. Slenczynska, who was born in Sacramento, CA, now makes her home in Hershey, PA.
Slenczynska made her debut in Berlin at the age of 6. She performed with orchestra for the first time in Paris at the age of 7. At 15, she walked away from it all, attending Berkeley (she was a psychology major) and hoping to live a normal life. She married at 19, but divorced nine years later.
She began to teach piano for a living, which drew her back into the concert world. She was artist in residence at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, a full-time position, from 1964 to 1987. In 1957, she published her memoirs, “Forbidden Childhood,” recounting her experiences as a prodigy. She also wrote “Music at Your Fingertips: Aspects of Pianoforte Technique.”
Her complete recordings for American Decca, set down between and 1956 and 1963, have been reissued on compact disc by Deutsche Grammophon. Several albums were released on Ivory Classics. She recorded the music for her most recent release, “Ruth Slenczynska: My Life in Music,” at the age of 97.
The Washington Post published an article on her in February of last year. In it, she recollects Rachmaninoff’s first impression of her, when she met him in Paris at the age of 9. “This very tall man opened the door and looked down at me. He pointed at me with his long finger and said, ‘THAT plays the piano?’”
If that’s not Rachmaninoff, I don’t know what is.
Even without the Rachmaninoff connection, her pedigree is breathtaking. Among her other teachers were Artur Schnabel, Egon Petri, Alfred Cortot, and Josef Hoffman.
Happy birthday, Ruth Slenczynska!
Slenczynska talks and plays Rachmaninoff in 1963
Slenczynska in a Pathé newsreel, at the age of 5
Slenczynska at 99
Nice write-up by Australian Broadcasting Corporation
According to the “Old Style” calendar, Sergei Rachmaninoff was born in Russia on March 20, 1873 – which translates to April 1 on the Gregorian calendar. However, it would appear that Rachmaninoff himself preferred to celebrate on April 2, as supported by this application for U.S. citizenship archived at the Library of Congress.
Today is an excellent excuse, therefore, to share this clip of some dude playing the Prelude in C-sharp minor with the assistance of his dog – which I can’t stop watching!
Rachmaninoff, a lifelong dog-lover, no doubt would have approved.
Unfortunately, the composer came to loathe this particular piece, the second of five “Morceaux de fantaisie,” Op. 3. Russian publishers at the time did not pay royalties, so he basically sold it outright, at the age of 19, for 40 rubles.
Much to his chagrin, “The Prelude” was an instant hit. Opportunistic publishers in the West issued it under many titles, and of course he never saw a penny.
Yet he was expected to include it in every recital.
Whenever it came time for him to play his encores, invariably audiences would cry “C-sharp!” If he refused, they hissed. The composer confided, “Many, many times I wish I had never written it.”
The piece is so sober and portentous, how could it not have been parodied often?
You asked for it, you got it: happy belated birthday, Sergei Rachmaninoff!
Happy April Fool’s birthday to laugh-riot Sergei Rachmaninoff.
Depending on where you look, Igor Stravinsky described his dour compatriot as either “six-foot-two of Russian gloom” or “a six-and-a-half-foot scowl.” Perhaps both. It’s true, you won’t find very many photos of Rachmaninoff smiling. But just to prove he was not entirely without a sense of humor, I share with you the following anecdote:
Rachmaninoff was a favorite recital partner of violinist Fritz Kreisler. Once, in the middle of a concert in New York, Kreisler suffered a memory lapse. As he continued to noodle on his violin, feigning nonchalance while attempting to grope his way out of the labyrinth, he subtly inched closer to his pianist.
“Where are we?” he whispered.
To which Rachmaninoff replied, “Carnegie Hall.”
On this day devoted to fun and frivolity, the two friends are reunited in spirit in Rachmaninoff’s transcription of Kreisler’s “Liebesfreud,” or “Love’s Joy.”
Also, a shout-out to inadvertent prankster Ferruccio Busoni, another great pianist born on this date. Actually, his parents named him Ferruccio Dante Michelangelo Benvenuto Busoni. So clearly he had a sense of destiny. Or at any rate, he had a lot to prove! Perhaps that’s what spurred him to write what could very well be the most grandiose piano concerto of all time.
Busoni’s concerto swings for the fences, with an epic, 70-minute running time, large orchestration, demanding solo part, and men’s chorus in the finale (which doesn’t start singing until an hour in).
The text, from Adam Oehlenschläger’s verse-drama “Aladdin,” begins:
“Deep and quiet, the pillars of rock begin to sound:
Lift up your hearts to the power eternal,
Feel Allah’s presence, behold all his works!”
In the score, Busoni instructs that the chorus should be “invisible.” Somehow, this was mistranslated, resulting in a widespread belief that he actually wanted the singers to perform nude. Whether or not it’s ever been presented that way (in the interest of authenticity) is anyone’s guess.
Oddly, the concerto isn’t designed as a showcase for a fire-eating virtuoso. Beyond it being something of an endurance test for the soloist, there aren’t really any flashy cadenzas or too many opportunities to hot dog. The work is more like a gargantuan piano fever dream.
I particularly like the movement “All’Italiana,” evocative of Italian folk music and popular song. It always makes me think of Chico Marx.
To give you a sense of perspective, Rachmaninoff’s ever-popular Piano Concerto No. 2, at less than half the length, was first performed three years earlier, in 1901. The work would later be used on the soundtrack to “Brief Encounter.” There is nothing brief about Busoni’s concerto.
The pianist here is Marc-André Hamelin, who used to come into my bookshop looking for arcane sheet music, back in the day. Just a few years before this video, as a matter of fact. About a decade later, I saw him perform Busoni’s concerto at Carnegie Hall.
The Chico Marx business begins about 46 minutes in. The movement gets zanier and zanier.
Here Eileen Joyce plays Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in “Brief Encounter,” with Celia Johnson and a young Trevor Howard:
