May Festival Finale Looks Ahead

James Conlon

Garlands of flowers hung in the foyer.  The herald trumpeters were out. Tiny flower girls presented bouquets to the artists and curtsied to the audience.

    It was definitely May at the final concert of the 2008 Cincinnati May Festival May 24 at Music Hall, home to the festival since 1878 on Elm Street in Over-the-Rhine.

   But in a way it was also January.  Not only did the festival recall 135 years of tradition, it peered ahead into the 21st century.

   There was the traditional sing-along of Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus to close the evening.  However, the program looked today steadfastly in the eye with a stunning multi-media performance of Berlioz’ “Romeo and Juliet” Symphony.  Providing visual enhancement for a visual age, there were images of artworks projected onto a screen above the stage.

   Led by James Conlon, the concert marked the continuation of an initiative tested in 2007 with Berlioz’ “L’Enfance du Christ.”  Curator for the slide show was Bree Lehman of the Cincinnati Art Museum who gathered 34 images in a process of “free association” suggested by the Romeo and Juliet story.  Projections were cued to the milli-second by Cincinnati Symphony conducting assistant Jackson Warren, and included images directly based on the story, thematically related ones (combat, love, ball scenes, etc.) and excerpts from Shakespeare’s text.

   Conlon was very much the man of the hour.  In remarks from the stage, he explained the parallel between Berlioz’ “Romeo and Juliet” and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony (both are choral symphonies with brotherhood and reconciliation as their theme), why all the performers, including himself, the CSO, May Festival Chorus and vocal soloists, were dressed entirely in black (so as not to reflect light and compete with the visual presentation) and, most engagingly, how to avoid the whole thing if you didn’t like it.    The answer, said Conlon, quoting an anecdote about a Zen master and his student:  “Close your eyes.”

   He gave the performance continuity by requesting that there be no applause after the first half.  And, indeed, he did not make an entrance after intermission, but was already onstage when the performance resumed. There were supertitles not only for the sung text but to indicate sections of the symphony and their relationship to the Romeo and Juliet story.

   One felt immersed in the work on mutually reinforcing levels.

   Berlioz’ music – seven movements gathered into three parts -- is Technicolor itself, beginning with the struggle between the Capulets and the Montagues in part I (Introduction), depicted in rapid, scrappy figures in the violins (perhaps a bit too scrappy here, ensemble-wise).

   The Chorus, which divides into mini-choirs as the dramatic situation dictates (Capulets, Montagues, guests departing from the ball), played their vital role with distinction.  Heard in parts I and III, they sang with excellent French diction and worked hand in glove with Conlon and the CSO.  Vocal soloists were mezzo-soprano Isabel Leonard, tenor John Aler and baritone Donnie Ray Albert.  All except Albert performed  behind the orchestra with the Chorus.

   Leonard, a light, sweet-toned mezzo with a shimmering vibrato, helped set the scene in the part I Prologue with her eloquent tribute to first love and Shakespeare, while Aler etched Queen Mab, fairy embodiment of men’s distraction, in laser-sharp French.

   The second through fourth movements (part II) for orchestra alone were rich in color, detail and ravishing melody.  The CSO winds and brasses shone as Juliet’s theme soared above the frenetic music of the ball in the second (“Romeo Alone”).  The third movement love scene (“Serene Night”), a tender, melodic outpouring with a halting, parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow ending, was given extra-musical expression by 11 amorous images, including Ford Maddox Brown’s passionate “Romeo and Juliet” (1869-70).

   The famous “Queen Mab Scherzo” (which pre-dated Mendelssohn’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”) sparkled fittingly, with its muted, scampering strings and spooky winds. 

   The Chorus returned for “Juliet’s Funeral Procession” opening part III, where the Capulets and Montagues scatter flowers for the supposedly dead girl.  The “Tomb Scene,” one of Berlioz’ most graphic movements in terms of tone-painting, conveyed lamentation, delirious joy, cold shock and alarm.

   Albert entered for the Finale, one of the great moments for bass-baritone, which he fulfilled commandingly.  His bronzed voice took on fury as he admonished the families for their continued feuding, then led the Chorus in the final, grand tribute to understanding and mutual forgiveness.

   The audience was uplifted (to their feet), fulfilling Conlon’s invitation in his pre-concert remarks to yell and scream as much as they wanted at the end.

   Note: Several of the images projected during the concert belong to the Cincinnati Art Museum collection, including Anthony van Dyck’s “Portrait of a Man in Armor” and Georges Rouault’s “Clown.”