Queen Elizabeth Hall
Ravel – Gaspard de la nuit
Brahms – Intermezzi: op.117
nos 1 and 2, op.118 no.2
Chopin – Scherzo no.2 in
B-flat major, op.31
Ravel – La Valse
Stravinsky – Three Movements from ‘Petrushka’
It was not difficult on the basis of this recital to understand why comparisons have been drawn between Khatia Buniatishvili and Martha Argerich. Though Buniatishvili is definitely her own person, and such comparisons rarely shed much light, there is a not entirely dissimilar fire in performance. With one exception, I was greatly impressed here.
In a reversal of the advertised
running order, the first half opened with Gaspard
de la nuit, followed by three Brahms Intermezzi. ‘Ondine’ opened with quiet
shimmering, making its way towards reminiscences of Liszt that were never too
much. Buniatishvili’s ppp was quite mesmerising. Much the same
might be said of ‘Le Gibet’. Inexorable tread was observed yet there remained
an appropriately nymph-like lightness of touch. Chords were somehow both
crystalline and upon the verge of dissolution. The pianist’s control was little
short of awe-inspiring; likewise, if in a different way, in the case of ‘Scarbo’.
Debussyan pyrotechnics were perhaps a little cool at times, but there was ultimately
plenty of that aforementioned fire.
The trio of Brahms pieces
made for an affecting, thoughtful change of musical voice. The first piece from
op.117 offered a sense of ancient familiarity, something almost folk-like, yet
without any hint of the routine. One was subtly rendered aware of the
undeniably modern quality of its lines and their progress, not the first time Buniatishvili’s
skill at voicing came into its own. The apparent simplicity of its ternary form
was revealed through variation to be development, no mere ornamentation. A mood
of expressive intimacy continued in op.117 no.2; if anything, it was
intensified. The A major of op.118 no.2 came as balm, though introspection and
circumspection ensured that ambiguity remained, at least for more time than
they were eroded. Though in no real sense a Schoenbergian performance, the
absolute necessity of every note was communicated, albeit without didacticism.
Chopin’s B-flat minor Scherzo
was the exception I mentioned, though, judging by the audience’s reaction, mine
was a minority opinion. It was on the brisk side, though far from inflexible.
The problem for me was that much of the material sounded underplayed, reduced
to the ‘merely’ ornamental. Something of that iron necessity governing the
Brahms pieces would have been welcome here. Structure was clear in an external
sense, but form remained curiously lacking in dynamism. It may be grossly
unfair to invoke Pollini here; nevertheless, I longed for his deeper understanding.
That said, in the second encore, the finale to Prokofiev’s Seventh Piano
Sonata, Buniatishvili’s pianism proved every inch the equal of the Italian pianist
in his legendary recording.
The solo piano version of La Valse remains a poor substitute for
the ‘real thing’, though I can well imagine we might feel differently had we
never heard it. Again, Buniatishvili took the piece at considerable speed;
perhaps one needs to, without the sustaining power of a full orchestra.
Sometimes she might have yielded more, but that was not too much of a problem.
What I missed, and this may well be as much a matter of the version as the
performance, was a sense of darkness, indeed of tragedy; it remained on the
level of a tour de force, though the
virtuosity in itself was spellbinding.
There was little to fear from
even the most exalted of comparisons (such as Pollini, again) in the Three Movements from ‘Petrushka’.
Exuberant, vigrorous, precise: here, there was no reason whatsoever to miss the
extraordinary colours of Stravinsky’s orchestra. Dramatic characterisation,
variety of touch and articulation, great dynamic range: all were equally
impressive. Rhythm often governed, as it should, but not at the expense of
melody. A rare slip served only to show that the purveyor of such pianism was
human after all. And those glissandi…!
