The Philharmonia Hungarica was formed in the aftermath of the 1956 uprising by emigré musicians and was based in West Germany where the government funded it for anti-Soviet propaganda purposes. Funding continued until 2001, but it was finally forced to disband the same year. Yet here it was, as large as life, eight years later at the Bartók Hall of the Palace of the Arts on Saturday night. Confused? You are not alone.
It transpires that the orchestra had been reformed for a one off performance to mark the beginning of the week long biennále festival celebrating the work of returning emigrant artists. After eight years, it was hardly likely that the entire team could be reunited so this scratch orchestra was reinforced by members of Hungarian Telecom’s Symphony Orchestra. How different from the heady days when the orchestra achieved world class status with its landmark recordings of all the Haydn symphonies under Dorati. According to Müpa’s concert listings, we would first hear Kodály’s Peacock Variations but delve deeper into the write up and it was in fact to be the Galanta Dances. In the end, it was the Dances of Marosszék which opened the proceedings. Curioser and curioser.
No matter. We had the inestimable Tamás Vásáry in charge. At 76, Vásáry is a veteran performer, a slight figure but still with astonishing energy and physicality. He worked hard to draw a committed performance from his orchestra and, to their credit, they rose to the occasion most of the time. The winds were particularly good but mostly young – clearly few veterans of the old band amongst them. The Kodály was well judged and full of characteristic rhythmic vitality. András Ágoston gave a charming account of the C major Haydn concerto. The slow movement, when a soloist played over a hushed pizzicato in the strings, was especially touching. After the interval, Ágoston returned to the first desk for Beethoven’s fifth. Over the years, Vásáry has shown a preference for a straight forward, no nonsense approach to much of what he performs. This was no exception. Quite brisk tempi were used throughout giving this reading a freshness to relish. The contrast between the scherzo and trio was finely judged and a mysterious transition from scherzo to finale came close to magical, but you cannot assemble a scratch orchestra and expect it to immediately sound like one of the world’s best. There was something less than ideal in the ensemble playing – nothing one could really put ones finger on – the odd fluffed note, a slight laxity of discipline, made this a noble effort rather than a complete triumph.
The concert was prefaced by one of those talks which could so easily have been printed in the program notes instead and ended with that most curious of encores, repeating a movement from Beethoven. Why on earth an orchestra cannot prepare something different in case they are called back or simply not bother is a mystery. But that’s a different story.
Palace of Arts (Béla Bartók National Concert Hall, Festival Theater)