Entremont, Encore
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In the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s, Philippe Entremont was a big star. Then the career of this French pianist went kind of quiet. He took conducting posts — with minor orchestras, including chamber orchestras. We can only hope that Mr. Entremont has had the kind of career he desired.
He came to New York for a recital on Wednesday night. The evening was part of the International Keyboard Institute & Festival, held at Mannes College. The place was packed to the rafters. And, despite problems, Mr. Entremont — who is now 74 — proved that he still has the stuff that made him a big star.
His program was a meaty and appetizing one — consisting of pieces that he has lived with a long time, probably since childhood and adolescence. It began with Mozart’s Sonata in A, K. 331 — the one with the “Rondo alla turca.”
Mr. Entremont began the sonata gently, beautifully, and simply — the music was lovingly shaped. As he continued, Mr. Entremont was fairly free and Romantic, but still within Mozartean bounds. He is an especially good pedaler (as Frenchmen tend to be, given their native repertoire). Sometimes the music verged on overpedaled — but only verged.
Mr. Entremont was willing to be aggressive with his Mozart, where appropriate. He does not treat the composer as a fragile toy. But he was always elegant. Sometimes his fingers would not quite cooperate, being sluggish or stiff. But this could be ignored.
The second movement is a minuet, and Mr. Entremont played this with gracious style — like a French aristocrat with especially good taste. And that Turkish rondo?
Mr. Entremont did some funny playing — some ungainly and flaccid playing. Also, the music was curiously serious, almost pompous. But he did some arresting and authoritative playing as well. Mr. Entremont has earned his spurs as a Mozartean.
He continued with a Beethoven sonata, the one in F minor, Op. 57, known as the “Appassionata.” This was not an everyday reading of that sonata.
Mr. Entremont began with some odd rubato — some strange license with time. But it soon became clear that he has a decided and defensible view of the sonata. The first movement had unusual broadness and breadth — less fire than it often does. The music was generous and warm, more like the “Waldstein” than the “Appassionata.” This was an exceptionally friendly first movement.
And Mr. Entremont is unusually conscious of the sounds he is making. He listens to his piano as few others do.
In the middle movement, he played with big fat tones, à la Rubinstein. He applied a lot of pedal, making things extremely legato, and almost soupy — but this was better than the thumping you so often hear. As for the closing movement, it was not especially clean. But it had some of its tigerlike menace and glower. And the coda was quite interesting — carrying a power both physical and mental.
After intermission, Mr. Entremont turned to Debussy and Ravel. He played two famous works from each composer. And how did he do?
You are familiar with the expression “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Well, sometimes Mr. Entremont could not manage the notes these composers wrote. At this stage of the game, he is probably a better musician than he is a pianist. But that’s not all bad, by a long shot. When technical demands were not in the way, Mr. Entremont was absolutely superb.
He had color, subtlety, nuance, judgment — spirituality. Consider “Hommage à Rameau,” from Debussy’s “Images,” Book I. It was a clinic in French Impressionism. Same with the Sarabande from Debussy’s “Pour le piano.” The way it breathed was positively exemplary.
Ravel’s “Pavane for a Dead Princess” was far from perfect — you could pick at it in a hundred ways. But I found myself transported, and so, I wager, did most other listeners. The printed program ended with Ravel’s “Alborada del gracioso.” A little messy, yes. Maybe more than a little. But the piece was also spunky, sassy, Spanish, and delightful.
Mr. Entremont gave us one encore. I was sort of hoping it would be Gershwin — the Prelude in C-sharp minor. Mr. Entremont is one of the best Gershwin players around. But it was Chopin — the Polonaise in C-sharp minor, played with great character.
It was a pleasure to see this blast from the past, this Philippe Entremont. He is paunchier now, and white-haired. But he is still his elegant, tasteful, and musical self.