Mahler #8 @ The Shrine Auditorium

 

We knew this was going to be mayhem and were not disappointed. Fortunately, AD’s plan of taking the subway and a bus to the Shrine turned out to be the right idea. Thirty minutes before curtain USC was completely gridlocked. Police struggled to control the traffic and wrangle the mobs of people who overflowed the sidewalks.

 

Inside the Shriner's massive kitschy barn was a scene of chaos. Unfortunately the L.A. Phil decided to save money on ushers, so all 6300 of us had to wander around trying to figure out the Shrine’s arcane section and numbering system.

 

After finally locating what I guessed were the right seats, I began to appreciate the crowd. Last night was a good people watching opportunity.

 

• There were L. A. Phil. regulars.
• There were, I gathered, lots of partners and families of the 813 members of the chorus—not to mention 91 musicians from the Phil., plus 99 from the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra.
• There were people who came to catch the once-in-a-lifetime experience.
• There were Mahlerians: a lady down front wore a glamorous op art dress that seemed from the Mahler revival in the Sixties.
• There were people who came for the spectacle.

 

And boy, they got one.

 

Just the empty stage was impressive: the riser for the chorus took up the whole of the (enormous) stage. Filled with singers, it was like the stands at an arena, the singers wearing their different uniforms of their different choral groups. When they all turned the page of their scores together, it was like a white screen refresh.

 

The orchestras sat on a temporary stage added in front. And even so there was barely enough room. At the end when Dudamel and the principals were taking their bows, they could barely snake their way from backstage to the front. 

 

And what is it exactly that requires two large orchestras, eight principal singers and nine choruses? Musical necessity? Or nineteenth-century giganticism? A desire to surpass Beethoven and Wagner? On the other hand, years later Schoenberg remarked that such extravaganzas weren’t impractical in music-mad pre-war Austria and Germany.

 

Certainly the massed forces created a magnificently loud and rich conclusion to the first movement: the Gloria rattled your bones.

 

And but even better was the amazing sound of hundreds of voices singing quietly—the magical landscape of “Forest, that sways here.” The army of strings was playing low notes very quietly. It wasn’t so much that you listened to it as you felt it, in your insides.

 

Then came my favorite part of the whole piece, the baritone Brian Mulligan, in the character of Ecstatic Holy Father, singing “Eternal burning brand, / Glowing bond of Love.” M.F.K. Fisher once objected to Wagner’s “religious lewdness,” and this was religious lewdness in spades. And yet it’s irresistible. Part of it is the earnestness: it is achingly sincere. I generally prefer Mahler when he’s conflicted (rollicking music expressing despair) but this is also part of him, and probably the more contented part.

 

Mulligan really rose to the occasion, and sang his heart out. Indeed, as he neared the end he looked as if the effort was going to kill him—his face flushed fire engine red. Thank goodness he was able to finish, sit down and recover.

 

The evening's big deliberate dramatic effect was Kiera Duffy’s appearance at the stage-right box. She appeared out of a blinding light in the middle of the movement, and stood on display a good long while, adopting poses suggestive of refined grandeur. With her cap of blond hair, wrapped in a glittery golden sheath, Duffy seemed to be a Tribute to the Academy Awards who wandered in from some other spectacle across town.

 

But finally she did sing an amazing “Komm!” accompanied by four harps, piano, celesta and harmonium. The orchestra and chorus and everybody wailed about the Eternal Feminine. It was all over, then. Mahler’s experiment in overwhelming forces and straight-ahead emotional directness could not be resisted.  

 

The crowd went berserk. The musicians congratulated each other. There were a dozen bows. The lady with the sniffles behind us said, “I think they’re going to do an encore!” We waited to see if they would play it a second time, but we were wiped out. And besides we had the #200 bus to catch.

 

Comments

[Kristen Gilmartin]

YES! I was there too----you've described it all perfectly. Brian Mulligan's red face, I won't ever forget it. The semi-homeless man sitting in front of me that knew every note by heart, I won't ever forget it. Standing between urinals in the men's room with gold circle donor ladies in beaded gowns because there weren't enough women's bathrooms and laughing about it....seeing couples in black tie sprinting down exposition blvd at 8:05PM.........OMG! What an historic night.

[Neil Sstannard]

One minor correction: Kiera Duffy appeared in the stage-left box. That is, if standing on the stage facing the audience, she was to the left.

My favorite section is the one that begins Blicket auf and continues through the pianissimo chorus. Copland's comment that "never have so many been asked to give so little" is right on the money,and what an effect it is.