The Philadelphia Orchestra presents Beethoven’s “Eroica” conducted by Osmo Vänskä

This was no dainty dance for original instruments. Some 75 Philadelphia Orchestra musicians gave Beethoven his due as Vänskä showed what an untethered modern orchestra can achieve with leadership that is informed, inspired, and unifying. (This program was originally scheduled to be conducted by Tilson Thomas, but Vänskä stepped in due to illness.)

Although I prefer Beethoven to all other composers, I hadn’t thought much about Symphony No. 3 since I reviewed Tilson Thomas conducting it with this orchestra in 2017. A few years earlier, I had the pleasure of visiting the room where its first rehearsals were held, in Vienna’s Lobkowitz Palace, on a visit with the American Beethoven Society. The work is the keystone of one of the most famous tales in classical music lore. As the story goes, Beethoven originally dedicated the work—the most revolutionary symphony of its age—to Napoleon. But upon hearing that Napoleon had declared himself emperor, the composer, in a rage, furiously crossed out the dedication page. In true egalitarian spirit, Beethoven renamed the symphony “Eroica” (“heroic”), and dedicated it to “the memory of a great man.”

Vänskä’s Eroica

About 50 minutes in length, the four-movement work is in E-flat major, one of Beethoven’s favorite keys, arguably symbolic of spaciousness and might. But technical details aside, this is an evergreen work, emblazoned with bold melodies and even bolder development. Under Vänskä’s direction, the first movement had a bold, clean style, with only a couple slight squibbles (if I may coin a word) as the opening section of the first movement launched into its repeat.

In the second movement funeral march, Vänskä forewent the baton, liberating both hands to mold and caress the sound against a background that resembled slowly trudging footsteps. The march culminates in several measures that seem to break apart as though overcome by grief. This short but critical passage could have been expressed with a little more emotion and sense of disjuncture. I felt this reading of the mournful measures was too literal and could have used a dash of imaginative rubato before the departing chords rested in peace.

The jubilant third movement featured some exceptional playing in the horn trio (Jennifer Montone, Ernesto Tovar Torres, and Chelsea McFarland) and by Philippe Tondre, whose other-worldly oboe solos pierced decisively through the orchestral ambience. The orchestra seemed to enjoy working with this vivacious conductor, who wasn’t above a few leaps of joy, proving that perhaps age (72 in his case) really is only a number. The performance concluded with variations on a favorite Beethoven theme taken from his The Creatures of Prometheus ballet. Here, the various sections of the orchestra snapped together perfectly, like the last pieces of a challenging jigsaw puzzle.

Ravel and Tilson Thomas

Before intermission, Pierre-Laurent Aimard joined the orchestra in a performance of Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand. Ravel composed this work for pianist Paul Wittgenstein, whose right arm was amputated during World War I. This is a tremendously difficult work with one hand taking on the role of two. This, Aimard does splendidly, one could even say miraculously, for it is difficult to imagine exercising the left side of one’s body so vigorously while keeping the right close to immobile. But Aimard is well acquainted with difficult music, specializing in the contemporary genre. His left hand flew over the keyboard, bass to treble, and back, with dark sonorities and gentle modulations in this, a work that is often disturbing but full of strange beauty.

The program began with a tribute to Michael Tilson Thomas, a leading conductor as well as composer of note. His Agnegram is a chattering magpie of a tone poem, dedicated to San Francisco Symphony supporter Agnes Albert. Letters of her name are hidden among the quavers and semiquavers, as are references—subtle and overt—to works performed by the symphony (1812 Overture, anyone?). Some 20 different percussion instruments join their textures and beats to the ensemble, including cowbells and a lion’s roar, creating seven minutes of pure fun, a nice balance to a program with some serious reflections on war, death, and triumph over adversity.