Nov. 19, 2002.
The Toronto Star
Baritone in fine voice but program marred by angst
JOHN TERAUDS
How appropriate that a Siberian-born singer should blow into town Sundayevening, accompanying the season's first winter storm. But if the toneoutside was wintry but cheerful, the audience inside Roy Thomson Hall wassubjected to unremitting doom and gloom.Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky's recital could be summed up bytwisting Charles Dickens' opening words in A Tale Of Two Cities: It was thebest of voices singing about the worst of times.In a 90-minute program split evenly between Russian art songs by tormentedarch-Romantic Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky and the sometimes-saccharineneo-Romantic Sergei Rachmaninov, Hvorostovsky showed he is truly in hisvocal and artistic prime, displaying a rich, flexible voice, remarkablebreath control, careful phrasing and subtle dynamic texturing.But Hvorostovsky's characteristic intensity and a program drawn from TheSorrows Of The Young Werther school of wallowing in the maudlin made for aheavy aesthetic slog.Take the opening words to Tchaikovsky's "Why?" (Op. 6, No. 5): "Why did theglorious rose wilt so,/ In the spring?/ Why is the blue violet/ Silentbeneath the green grass?/ Why is the song of the little bird/ So sad today?/Why does the dew hang/ Like a shroud upon the meadows? ..." Hvorostovsky's intensity did the words justice. But when he was given thechance to liven up a little, as in "It Was Early Spring" (Op. 38, No. 2),the next song on the program, he couldn't bring himself to soar asexpansively as the words and exuberant piano accompaniment suggest.Perhaps he was annoyed at the audience.You see, there are two sides to Roy Thomson Hall's acoustic makeover. The space welcomed Hvorostovsky's voice, giving it clarity and richnessacross his range. But the space also magnified the persistent chorus ofcoughing, shuffling of programs and banging of auditorium doors behind anendless stream of latecomers. Twice, Hvorostovsky stood silently on stagewatching tardy fans shuffle in. And despite clear printed instructions tohold applause to the end of each set, the audience erupted into appreciationafter each song.Worse yet, premature clapping obliterated the ending of "Why?"Why, indeed. It's not as if this were an informal concert. Hvorostovsky andhis fabulously sensitive long-time accompanist Mikhail Arkadiev arrivedonstage in black tie and never indicated that this was anything but anevening of serious music-making. Rather than helping singer and pianist chart a carefully planned emotionalcourse through a cycle of each composer's songs - climaxing in Rachmaninov'sdizzyingly bleak "Excerpt from A. Musset" (Op. 21, No. 6) - the applause repeatedly broke the mood, giving the evening a choppy feel.But Hvorostovsky was gracious to the end, delivering two encores to wildovations.Even though both encores were sung in Italian, Hvorostovsky deliberatelystayed the angst-ridden course: The first was a chilling interpretation ofIago's devastating "Credo" from Verdi's Othello (demonstrating why this manis an internationally lauded Verdi interpreter); the second a ploddingversion of "Core 'Ngrato" by Cordiferro/Cordillo, a well-known Neapolitansong.