Maurizio Pollini at the Royal Festival Hall offers a triumph of the human spirit

United KingdomUnited Kingdom R. Schumann and Chopin: Maurizio Pollini (piano). Royal Festival Hall, London, 23.6.2023. (MB)

Maurizio Pollini

R. Schumann – Arabesque in C major, Op.18; Fantasie in C major, Op.17
Chopin – Mazurka in C minor, Op.56 No.3; Barcarolle in F-sharp major, Op,60; Scherzo No.1 in B minor, Op.20

‘Who is the world’s greatest pianist?’ is a silly question, although human beings have long been prone to ask and indeed to answer silly questions. So long as it remains at the level of the parlour game, it probably does no great harm, though it is unlikely ever to illuminate either. For more than half a century though, Maurizio Pollini has stood as one of the world’s greatest: not merely, or even principally, from the standpoint of technique, awe-inspiring as that long was, but as a musician of penetrating intelligence and insights, committed equally to classical and new repertory. Whether in Beethoven or Boulez, Chopin or Stockhausen, Pollini at his best might occasionally be equalled, yet, allowing for vagaries of taste and opinion, never surpassed.

More recently, that fabled technique, out of which were born and formed performances of white-hot intensity, has proved more fallible. It has sometimes taken Pollini a little time to ‘get going’ in a recital, though the second half and encores have at least tended to show him still at his best. This Royal Festival Hall appearance, postponed from earlier in the year, offered uncomfortable listening – and viewing – yet ultimately proved a triumph of the human spirit, one that involved audience warmth, involvement, and encouragement too. There were flashes and sometimes more than that of the younger musician alongside the memory lapses. As we progressed towards the end of the recital, aided now by sheet music and a page turner, Pollini showed something far more valuable than the sort of interchangeable, note-perfect feat of virtuoso execution one might hear from some. For those of us who have grown up with him, it was an evening of very mixed emotions, but it was ultimately a chance to remember the journey we have taken with him, how much we have learned from it, and how much we shall continue to do so.

Robert Schumann’s Arabeske suggested Bach led in new clothes into the age of Romanticism. The whiteness of C major sounded pristine, rare, and yet far from vulnerable, possessed of a strength belying so much. Florestan and Eusebius presented themselves and did varied battle throughout the work’s episodes and return. The epilogue in particular was truly touching, light yet decisive in piercing of the heart. The Fantasie opened with a sense of its greater scale and ambition, reference seemingly made as much to the venerable history of the keyboard fantasia as to Schumann’s more obvious points of closer reference. There were passages of high Romantic vehemence when poise returned, though ultimately a performance of the whole was not to be. That setbacks had neither pianist nor audience give up, though, was something in which to take solace and always to remember.

A plain-spoken Chopin Mazurka in C minor opened the second half, sadness seeping through as it must. Repeated rhythms and chromatic inflections took on greater, metaphysical meaning in context. In the Barcarolle, the waters rose once again, the gondola took flight, and surveyed familiar yet ever-strange landscapes, perhaps for the last time. One never knows — and for that reason should always make the most of what one has. The B minor Scherzo presented tumultuous flashes of old: in part muscle memory, doubtless, for there will always be something of that in any performance. But it was not only that; anger, tenderness, and more came to the surface via a cantilena that was unquestionably the real thing.

Mark Berry

5 thoughts on “Maurizio Pollini at the Royal Festival Hall offers a triumph of the human spirit”

  1. Dear Mark – thank you so much for your heartwarming review. I was there too and found the concert (from the perspective of a musician who has also suffered on the stage) both life affirming and uplifting. The triumph of the human spirit indeed. Although Pollini’s fabled control and precision deserted him on many occasions, what replaced it was at times so utterly beautiful that it transported the listener onto a different plane of being. Decline seemed to lead to greater understanding – or the greater understanding became more obvious to the listener. Thanks for conveying that so sincerely in your review.

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  2. Thank you all for your comments. This was not an easy review to write, so I greatly appreciate your reassurance.

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  3. I just commented on this post on Twitter, but I understand you’ve been banished from it by ‘Twitter police’, so I’ll leave it as as comment here too. Huge respect to you for this remarkably compassionate review of a very tricky recital (yes it was extremely uncomfortable to listen to and view; I was sitting on the edge of my seat the entire time and couldn’t enjoy it at all).
    When one has the power to tear someone down – a great artist at the end of his career too – and one consciously chooses not to … that is everything. ‘Triumph of the human spirit’ refers to you too, Mark! I so appreciate what you did here. TY!

    Mark Berry replies: Thank you, Chie. Much appreciated!

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