Ravinia 2019, Issue 6, Week 11

WOJCIECH KILAR (1932–2013) Orawa Scored for five first violins, four second violins, three violas, two cellos, and double bass (or double those numbers) Mountains were a perpetual source of inspira- tion for Polish composer Wojciech Kilar. His hometown of Lwów (since 1939, Lviv, Ukraine), is situated in the foothills of the majestic Car- pathian Mountains to the south. As the son of a respected gynecologist and actress, Kilar grew up in a household that treasured education and the arts. Piano lessons began at the age of 6, though the classics bored him. Only after mov- ing with his mother to Rzeszów, a city in south- eastern Poland facing the Tatra Mountains, in 1944 did he discover the invigorating con- temporary piano music of Ravel, Debussy, and Szymanowski during lessons with Kazimierz Mirski. Kilar’s first compositions in traditional keyboard genres (suites, sonata, and toccata) plus a mazurka reveal the influence of Szy- manowski, Bartók, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky. After private composition lessons with Artur Malawski in Kraków, Kilar entered the State School of Music in Katowice, where he studied piano and composition with Bolesław Woyto- wicz. Graduating with honors in 1955, he moved to Kraków to become Woytowicz’s graduate student at the State College of Music. Kilar pro- duced his first soundtrack for the 1958 short film The Skiers , directed by Natalia Brzozowska. The following year, he won the Lili Boulanger Prize in Composition, which provided funding to study in Paris with Lili’s sister, the renowned music pedagogue Nadia Boulanger. Kilar cultivated a musical language inspired by the simplicity of religious, patriotic, and folk music. His admiration for the folksongs of the Polish highlands (Podhale) infiltrated many concert works, but none more profoundly than four symphonic compositions inspired by the Tatra Mountains, the highest in the Carpathian range. The Romantic tone poems Krzesani (1974) and Kościelec 1909 (1976)—the latter written in memory of Polish composer Mieczysław Karło- wicz, who died at the age of 32 on February 8, 1909, in an avalanche on Kościelec Mountain— evoke the atmosphere and folk music of the highlanders (górale). Kilar completed his third mountain-inspired score—the vocal-symphon- ic poem for baritone and orchestra called Siwa mgła (Grey Mist)—in 1979. Seven years later, he completed the mountain tetralogy with Orawa for string ensemble (1986), an energetic work influenced by Minimalist techniques. Though stylistically dissimilar, the success of these com- positions underscored Kilar’s conviction that “truly valuable works are only those that per- formers want to play and the public wants to hear.” The Polska Orkiestra Kameralna (renamed Sin- fonia Varsovia) under Wojciech Michniewski gave the first performance of Orawa in Zako- pane on March 10, 1986. Since its string-en- semble premiere, Orawa has been transcribed for several different chamber ensembles: twelve saxophones, eight cellos, and three accordions. The usually self-critical composer found rare satisfaction in this score: “ Orawa is the only piece in which I wouldn’t change a single note, though I have looked at it many times,” he ad- mitted reluctantly in a 1997 interview. “What I achieved in it is what I strive for—to be the best possible Kilar.” Beyond the successes of his concert music, Ki- lar has received international acclaim for his soundtracks. He provided music for Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), which earned a Saturn Award for Best Music. Movie director Jane Campion engaged Kilar to write the score for The Portrait of a Lady (1996). Three movies directed by Roman Polanski fur- ther solidified his reputation as a film composer: Death and the Maiden (1994), The Ninth Gate (1994), and The Pianist (2002), the gripping sto- ry of Polish Jewish pianist Wladyslaw Szpilman, who struggled to survive in the Warsaw Ghetto. MAX BRUCH (1838–1920) Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, op. 26 Scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, timpani, strings, and solo violin The enormous popularity of the Violin Con- certo No. 1 overshadowed all of Bruch’s other compositions, greatly frustrating its creator. As his 50th birthday approached, the concerto was performed innumerable times while other worthy pieces remained virtually unplayed. An endless stream of violinists assailed the compos- er for advice. Bruch wrote to his publisher, Fritz Simrock: “Every fortnight another one comes to me wanting to play the First Concerto: I have now become rude, and have told them: ‘I cannot listen to this concerto any more—did I perhaps write just this one? Go away and once and for all play the other concertos, which are just as good, if not better.’ ” Yet the abundant melodic beauty, naturalness of form, and unaffected Romantic expression en- sured the continued popularity of the Concerto No. 1, a bridge between the monumental violin concertos of Mendelssohn and Brahms. Later, Bruch’s concerto suffered from comparisons with the work by Brahms. Bruch acknowledged the eminence of his German colleague but found him personally offensive: “If I meet with Brahms in Heaven, I shall have myself trans- ferred to Hell!” This first essay for violin proved a daunting task. Bruch admired the instrument (“the violin can sing a melody better than the piano can, and melody is the soul of music”), but lacked a true understanding of its technical capabilities. Detailed advice from Joseph Joa- chim—the virtuoso who also collaborated with Brahms on his Violin Concerto—lessened his insecurities. Out of gratitude, Bruch dedicated the Violin Concerto No. 1 to Joachim. Novelties of construction and musical sub- stance caused Bruch to consider the title “fan- tasy” instead of “concerto.” The first movement is styled as a Vorspiel (Prelude) with orchestral statements interrupted by rhapsodic violin in- terludes. A single pitch connects this movement with the lyrical Adagio . Bruch instills a Hungar- ian flair in the finale, a tribute to the style for which Joachim was justifiably renowned. After a thorough analysis of the work, Joachim wrote to Bruch, “As to your ‘doubts,’ I am happy to say, in conclusion, that I find the title ‘concer- to’ fully justified; for the name ‘fantasy’ the last two movements are actually too completely and symmetrically developed; the different parts are brought together in a beautiful relationship, and yet there is sufficient contrast, which is the main point.” Bruch conducted the world premiere in Koblenz on April 24, 1866, with violinist Otto von Königslöw. Wojciech Kilar Max Bruch and Joseph Joachim AUGUST 12 – AUGUST 18, 2019 | RAVINIA MAGAZINE 99