Hamilton Philharmonic Orchestra
Perhaps it was our especially cold winter lingering still in one’s bones, but conductor Gemma New’s recent take on Beethoven’s Pastorale Symphony with the HPO certainly drew one into the richness of an approaching spring. Here was an unforced but thoroughly compelling and insightful performance in which both an air of fresh musical discovery and an engaging sense of springtime human abandon prevailed. One’s mind drifted quite easily, at times as if seduced by a dew-light flow of dance. One sensed blossoms and leaves made into sound and, beyond that, the welcoming warmth of sunlight on grass, all from this performance. And then the storm.
Certainly, after skilfully negotiating an ominous undercurrent of impending danger, one that gave the listener a feeling of vulnerable unease, New revealed, as in the Saint-Saens earlier, an effectively emphatic hand in the “Tempest” Allegro and one did indeed feel need for shelter. But with the overall naturalness implicit in this fluid and organically sound performance, one also felt enriched by New’s respect for the compositional intent of the score. All parts were made clearly individualized and vibrant, propelled by lyricism, inherent fun, and firm musical logic that were cleanly stated and subtly robust.
I especially loved how, in this orchestral canon staple, one could hear familiar passages given surprisingly new life. One felt here a sense of discovery, all while savoring both musical nuances shaped by New and Beethoven’s intriguing and uncanny sense of placement of parts in his overall design. While happily consumed by this Pastorale on aesthetic grounds, one became repeatedly conscious musically and, at the same time, emotionally enriched and challenged. I suspect that if Gemma New were made the new conductor of the HPO, the dynamics of Hamilton’s musical scene might develop in some community-friendly yet musically invigorating ways that these dire times for the arts require.
Plus two film lover’s books:
Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir by Eddie Muller (St. Martin’s Griffin) lives and breathes the Noir world and one almost feels bound to don a Stetson and to pull its brim down over one’s eyes while relishing Muller’s flavorful prose. The author is both hip and sufficiently academic, precisely attuned to the defining qualities and gossip of actors in the Noir canon, and splendidly evocative in writing that brings this world to life in one’s imagination. Every two page spread offers at least one riveting photo in which the drama of life and death pulsates for the eye. Many films are summarized with narrative smarts and beware that you’ll be checking out both Noir films you’ve seen many times before and those you’ve never seen.
In Barbara Stanwyck, a BFI book published by Palgrave McMillan, author Andrew Klevan analyzes nine of this great actress’s film performances with meticulous appreciation of each role’s possibilities and Stanwyck’s often unanticipated realization of each part. We begin with Ladies of Leisure from 1930 and on the way to There’s Always Tomorrow of 1956, Stanwyck classics including Stella Dallas, The Lady Eve, and Double Indemnity are all considered with exemplary insight. Klevan is especially balanced but quite aware of critical failings elsewhere, say with Ball of Fire, that miss Stanwyck’s overall intention and her brilliant but subtle thespian turns that bring piquant life to both her character and, in turn, a given film. It’s also a pleasure to see director’s like Hawks, Sturges and Wilder discussed as co-creator’s of Stanwyck’s art.