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Doublereed Archive - Posting 000068.txt from 2004/02

From: "TC" <cui74@-----.com>
Subj: Re: [DR-L] Conductors behaving badly
Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2004 15:12:45 -0500

Royal Phil's concert marked by conductor's solo encore
By PEG GOLDBERG LONGSTRETH, Special to the Daily News
February 13, 2004

Wednesday evening's standing-room-only concert at the Philharmonic Center
for the Arts, turned out to be notable, not for the concert, featuring the
world renowned Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, but for the encore performance
of its highly touted young conductor.

Daniele Gatti, the Royal Philharmonic's music director since 1996 and also
the music director at the Teatro Communale in Bologna, returned to the stage
following a standing ovation at the conclusion of Beethoven's "Eroica"
Symphony to - I thought mistakenly - acknowledge the accolades of the
audience.

Instead, this incredibly rude, ill-mannered, churlish, boorish young
conductor, tripped over his enormous ego and, in the process, managed to
insult and alienate an entire, enthusiastic, respectful audience who had
paid nearly $100 a ticket for the evening.

He returned to lecture the audience.

In so doing he confirmed my growing suspicions of his conduct during the
evening: Maestro Gatti is a graduate of the Bobby Knight School of Social
Diplomacy.

That's right. Gatti, without benefit of a microphone and with a heavy
Italian accent, let everyone in the hall know ... know what, exactly? I am
going to paraphrase his comments, but I believe he essentially said the
following, since others, including Myra Daniels, the president and CEO of
the Philharmonic Center for the Arts, with whom I spoke Thursday morning,
have confirmed my interpretation of Gatti's comments:

The Royal Philharmonic is an important, world-class orchestra. They have
performed all over the world. For the past two weeks they have played
nonstop performances. They have never played under such trying
circumstances.

Gatti went on:

The Phil's acoustics suck. The stage sucks. The placement of his orchestra
on stage sucked.

While trying to make out his comments, I glanced up at Daniels' box, fully
expecting to see her stand and fall over the balcony in shock.

I am certain any number of pacemakers in the decidedly older audience went
into overdrive, as person after person reacted with shock.

A number of persons in the audience made the mistake of tittering, not
certain what he was saying or why smoke was coming from his ears. He stopped
the laughter dead in its tracks, said, "This is no joke. I am very serious,"
and a hush came over the audience.

His tirade over, he exited, as did, finally, the members of the Royal
Philharmonic Orchestra who, prior to last evening, had performed here on
three other occasions since Gatti's appointment in 1996.

People who had heard right were shocked and outraged. A number of them
sought out the ushers to voice their outrage over Gatti's conduct. People
stopped me and were calling Thursday morning to ask if I had ever seen
anything like that.

One woman called Daniels to comment: "We honored him with applause and a
standing ovation, and he told us we were idiots."

Many asked, rightly so, if there were a problem with the acoustics or the
stage, what the audience was supposed to do about it?

Indeed.

Reflecting back, I should have known it was going to be a strange evening.
There were hints - a portent, as it turns out, of things to come:

Gatti failed to utter a simple sentence at the beginning of the concert,
informing concertgoers the order of presentation was being switched, which
left more than half the audience sitting through the entire first number
(which was supposed to be Saint Saen's Cello Concerto) wondering where the
cellist was.

In fact, the first hint Gatti was not a happy camper occurred when, at the
conclusion of the first movement of the first number, many people in the
audience committed a mortal sin: They applauded.

Let's face it. Applause between movements is considered a sign of ignorance
and poor breeding by many music snobs. There is nothing unique about music
audiences in Naples applauding, as opposed to the rest of the world. They do
it everywhere. Even in New York.

OK, so it would be preferable if they hired someone to come out with an
applause card, to eliminate any uncertainty about when it is all right to
express enthusiasm at a classical concert.

But in the greater scheme of things, given so little to applaud in today's
world, is this really worth getting your dander up? Wouldn't you rather they
applaud at an inopportune moment rather than boo?

But that wasn't bad enough in Gatti's eyes: At the same time, at the
conclusion of that movement, in accordance with the Phil's policy, an usher
quietly seated six adults on the far right side of the auditorium, They
created no disturbance whatsoever, nor is there anything unusual about such
a seating policy.

Gatti chose that precise moment to turn toward them, fix them with his best
Bobby Knight stare - you know the look: the one where the general faces you
with his best stare, utters not a single word and, in the process, strikes
terror in your heart - and waited until they had been seated to proceed with
the second movement.

By now, everyone in the hall had turned to see what the "problem" was, when
their seating otherwise would not have been noticed by 95 percent of the
auditorium.

Believe me, no one applauded during the remainder of movements in the
evening's three numbers. Gatti, without ever saying a word or turning to
acknowledge the existence of the audience, anticipated the possible applause
and shushed them with a hand movement behind his back.

In the midst of all these by now cumulative little signs the maestro was
having a bad hair day of monumental proportions, he briefly stopped the
performance of Beethoven's "Eroica," turned toward the concertmistress,
glowered, and the entire violin section got up and physically closed ranks,
moving so close to the edge of the stage, the hapless fifth violinist had to
grab his chair as it toppled off the stage.

That said, I am going to sum up the concert by saying it was very good. I am
going to tell you the audience was attentive, polite and enthusiastic
following the conclusion of each number. I am going to tell you Silvia
Chiesa, a passionate young cellist with whom I frankly was unfamiliar, gave
a solid performance during the Saint-Saens piece, and I hope we have the
opportunity to hear her perform again under less stressful circumstances.

Then I am going to tell you, since so many people have called to ask if I
have ever seen anything like what happened last evening, that I have not.

I have seen many gaffes and disasters on stage or during performances in my
lifetime:

I have seen children wet themselves during their student recital; a graduate
student in voice (whom I was accompanying) suddenly vomit all over
everything during her doctoral recital; an organ short out and go totally
silent during the procession of an ultra-socialite's wedding. I have seen
parts break or fall off instruments. Reeds split. Strings break.
Professionals forget their parts and flee the stage. I have seen musicians
topple off stage; chairs break; batons suddenly take leave and fly through
the air.

But until Wednesday, I have never seen a highly touted, internationally much
heralded conductor blow his stack, come back on stage following a standing
ovation and berate the audience. Gatti could not be reached for comment on
Thursday.In the midst of all this post-concert shock and outrage, I had a
sudden epiphany: In the five-plus years since my husband and I relocated to
Naples, we always continued to think of Indiana and its musical venues as
home.

Wednesday night I became a full-fledged Neapolitan, proud of the wonderful
Philharmonic Center for the Arts, proud of the tremendous growth its
orchestra has exhibited since we moved here. Thrilled with many of its
world-class guest performers, of all the musical riches this community
offers. And in the process, I was ready to do battle with this pretentious,
angry little twit who ruined a wonderful evening of music for many of the
concertgoers.

He was unhappy with the setting? It was beneath him?

I don't think he will have to fret about those problems anymore. I doubt
there is a snowball's chance in Hell he will ever be invited back.

And you think classical music is dull!

Peg Longstreth was trained as a classical musician and owns
Longstreth-Goldberg ART gallery in Naples. You may e mail her at
jlongstreth@-----.