One for the Ages

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Mikhail Pletnev may be the best pianist in the world, but we don’t have to get into that now – we don’t have to get into it ever. It is enough to appreciate him.


Mr. Pletnev is spending some time in New York, playing a recital and two concertos. The recital took place Wednesday night, in Avery Fisher Hall; the concertos will be played next week, in the same hall, with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, Herbert Blomstedt, conducting. The concertos will be the two of Brahms.


Brahms figured in the recital, too, along with Bach and Beethoven. This was a meaty, immensely satisfying program, with those three greats (and three Bs).


Mr. Pletnev began with one of Bach’s Partitas, No. 6 in E minor. I could go on – and on – about this pianist, and this performance, but let me take just a couple of paragraphs.


He is in utter control of his fingers, his mind, and the music at hand. He began the Partita in a stately, measured way. Then he disported nimbly. Inner voices effortlessly emerged. Dynamics were intelligent. Clarity was a given, with every note unmistakable. Ornamentation was neither florid nor spare: It was just right. Mr. Pletnev was fully pianistic, but always faithful to Bach. He gave the proper weight to everything, never accenting faultily. He stressed the dissonance – yes, the dissonance – in this music. He also stressed the composer’s unusual rhythms, some of which border on jazzy. He stretched tempo, but never excessively, always tastefully. The sustaining pedal was barely noticeable, but ever helpful.


Often, Mr. Pletnev was aristocratic, but he could not be stiff. The Tempo di Gavotta was startlingly debonair. And the Gigue was stirringly defined.


In short, you can attend a lot of concerts, and never hear Bach played this well. I believe I would have to go back to the young Murray Perahia for a comparison. And it’s been a while.


Now that I have praised the pianist, may I knock the audience a bit? This was a gala audience, christening the new season of Great Performers. You always have to be wary of a gala audience, but this one was egregious: coughy, fidgety, talky – probably tipsy. Obnoxious, really. You wonder why these people attend the concert. If they attended only the dinner, or party – showing off their clothes, and air-kissing – they might be much happier. Certainly their fellow concertgoers would be.


Mr. Pletnev was visibly nonplussed, and annoyed. Why weren’t they rapt?


After the Bach, he turned to his Brahms: two Intermezzos and a Scherzo. The Intermezzo in B minor, Op. 119, No. 1, was amazingly Impressionistic. Was this Debussy or Brahms? Mr. Pletnev produced something like raindrops on that keyboard. And he played as though dreaming within himself, oblivious to anyone else. (This was especially important on this night.) The Intermezzo in B-flat minor, Op. 117, No. 1, is often played rhapsodically, but Mr. Pletnev began with a whisper, and pretty much stayed in that vein, throughout. Unusual, but effective.


The Scherzo in E-flat minor, Op. 4, is seldom played, but it is a fascinating piece. Mr. Pletnev made the most of it. He was sparkly, and, where required – chiefly in the middle section – smiling. He calibrated this piece for maximum effect. And it occurs to me: So manifold are Mr. Pletnev’s musical qualities, you can almost forget that you’re dealing with one of the most dazzling technicians in the world.


He did not really need such a technique for Beethoven’s little Sonata in G, Op. 14, No. 2 – the work that began the second half of the program. But, little as it may be, this is not a negligible work. How could it be, being a Beethoven sonata? In the opening movement, Mr. Pletnev allowed himself a surprising amount of license – maybe too much. He was well-nigh Romantic. But in the development sec tion, he made the music seem almost experimental, which it is, in a way. And the purity of his playing was astounding.


In the middle movement, he was jaunty, Germanic – I thought of a child play-marching through the woods or something. Later, he was silky and fluid, and then humorous. Practically funny. That quality continued in Beethoven’s third movement, which Mr. Pletnev carried out as though appreciating the composer’s every quirk and joke.


The program ended with the Sonata in C, Op. 53, known as “the Waldstein.” Strange about this sonata: It is famous – canonical – yet rarely played. In any case, Mr. Pletnev handled the first movement with clarity, zip, and bite. Also rumination, where necessary. He is a pianistic lion, but a thoughtful lion. Little in this movement was heavy; indeed, much of it was gossamer, almost French; some Germanic muscle came when needed. Again, this is a pianist who has gotten into the composer’s head.


The middle movement – Introduzione – was unhurried, the urgency allowed to build, unforced. And Mr. Pletnev’s G melted into the third movement beautifully.


Initially, this movement – the Rondo – seemed almost a nocturne. But soon it was galloping. And rippling, cascading, rollicking, whatever – all in Beethoven’s beloved C major. Mr. Pletnev made sounds, created effects, that are not supposed to be possible on a piano.


Football fans may remember what Bum Phillips, the old Houston Oilers coach, said about his running back, Earl Campbell. Working from his own interpretation of the word “class,” he said, “Earl may not be in a class by himself, but it doesn’t take long to call the roll.” Well, it doesn’t take long to call the roll of the Pletnev class, either. Zoltan Kocsis, Yefim Bronfman – you will have your own names. The point is, Mr. Pletnev’s rivals are few. In an age short on great pianists, we should take every opportunity to hear them.


The New York Sun

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