669.Bartók's "Divertimento For String Orchestra"

Reader86

Unpacking the 1939-ness of Bartók's "Divertimento For String Orchestra"
You can just *hear* the September Campaign.
by Fran Hoepfner November 8, 2017

Writing about classical music often means I’m constantly learning and shifting my own expectations, yet in the year since I started writing this column, I’m surprised at what I’m able to pick up on. This past week’s symphony program included Béla Bartók’s Divertimento For String Orchestra, and midway through the piece’s tumultuous and haunting second movement, I flipped through my playbill to see what year it had been written. “What is this, 1939?” I thought only before seeing, yes, wow, hm, interesting, the piece was, in fact, from 1939. I don’t claim to be an expert by any means, but I have garnered the ability to tell when a piece is more or less about Europe on the verge of crumbling.

To backtrack a little: Bartók was the only composer on last week’s program I was fairly unfamiliar with. If you asked me about Bartók’s music a year ago, I would have said something stupid like, “Oh, Bartók, yeah, he’s, like, interesting,” with no further explanation. By “interesting,” I would have really meant “atonal.” Odd, unsettling, despite how tonal Bartók might have argued his work was. He was an early 20th century composer, existing right on the cusp of romantic and modern classical music, and one of two of the most prominent Hungarian composers.

The Divertimento—a form typically referring to a piece of “light music,” not unlike a waltz or another one of the the popular, accessible genres of classical music—was commissioned by Bartók’s friend, conductor and philanthropist Paul Sacher. This was their second collaborative effort, the first being Bartók’s Music For Strings, Percussion, and Celesta. In order to write this Divertimento, Bartók and his wife retreated to Sacher’s chalet in the Swiss Alps. Haha, me too. In fact I write every edition of this column from the Swiss Alps; think of Silvia as my Paul Sacher. Thank you, Silvia, for the chalet!!

Divertimento For String Orchestra (London Symphony Orchestra recorded in 2014) was Bartók’s last composed piece in Europe before fleeing to the United States prior to World War II. Many have said it lacks a politicization, in part because he wrote it in such a remote atmosphere. In fact, in the quiet of the Swiss Alps (from where I am writing right now), he managed to get the piece done in only 15 days. (Same amount of time it takes me to write 800 words.) But I (an idiot) was able to pinpoint a particular 1939-ness about it, so it’s impossible that this piece of “light music” exists in the isolation in which it was written.

The Allegro non troppo begins with a rhythmic waltz, a light folk melody playing throughout. It’s intrinsically catchy, harkening back to a classical style from the prior century. Despite my prior knowledge of Bartók’s atonality, this is a fairly conventional piece; it’s probably the most accessible and this first movement, in particular, drifts between soloists and a central string melody. It’s possible to view this first movement as a meditation on Hungary before World War II—existing somewhere in Liszt’s traditionalism from the 19th century and the modern era. It’s a piece that sits between two times, and while unsettling in stretches, it always manages to pull itself with a solo, a singular voice amidst the crowd.

The Molto adagio is the aforementioned movement that absolutely screams “1939” to me. And why wouldn’t it? Its opening refrain is quiet, hesitant, afraid. There’s a sharp chord on the violins at the 2:04 mark that feels essentially like a call to run or to hide, that things are changing, rapidly, and without order. There are odd stretches of silence and thoughtfulness in this movement; it’s mourning what was lost in the movement prior, and looking ahead to no particularly bright future. At nearly ten minutes, the whole piece unsettled me deeply. To sit through it at the symphony was an exercise in patience and self-control. It’s hard not to get worked up about a piece clearly needling at your comfort. It’s a reminder that accessibility doesn’t necessarily mean a piece is outrightly cheerful or upbeat: its sadness, concern, and darkness are just as, if not more, accessible to a listener. Though I respect and admire this second movement, I couldn’t help but feel relieved when it finally ended.

In its opening few seconds, the Allegro assai might seem to pick up where the Molto adagio left off: a climactic chase ahead, but it almost instantly resets to a quicker version of the folksy beginning movement. This one, however, is a rondo, a true dance. It rushes forward, almost in an attempt to make you forget the despair of the movement prior. And it works! There’s a moment in the music where I actually laughed out loud during the performance. Listen carefully to the part leading up to the 6 minute mark as the strings play a quiet pizzicato melody, only to sweep upwards with a little run. It’s so cheerful—so cute, even—that just as you almost completely forget the movement prior, the central theme comes sweeping back in. It’s loud, it’s anxious, it’s all-consuming and then: it’s over. It’s resolved, but without peace of mind, without a sigh of relief. There was more to come—more fear, war, strife—but Bartók lets it go unsaid.

Reader86

为弦乐团而作的嬉游曲（伦敦交响乐团2014年录制）是巴托克在二战前夕逃离欧洲前创作的最后一首作品。许多人认为它缺乏政治色彩，部分原因是他在极其偏远的环境中写成。事实上，就在瑞士阿尔卑斯山的静谧中（此刻我正从这里写作），他只用了15天就完成了这部作品——与我写800字所需的时间相同。但我（一个白痴）却能从中精准捕捉到一种特定的“1939年气质”，因此这首“轻音乐”绝不可能存在于它被创作时的那种孤立真空中。

不太快的快板以一首节奏性的圆舞曲开场，轻快的民间旋律贯穿始终。它天生悦耳动听，回溯着上一个世纪的古典风格。尽管我事先知道巴托克的无调性倾向，但这却是一首相当传统的作品；它大概是他最易接近的乐章，而第一乐章尤其如此，在独奏与中央弦乐旋律之间游移。我们可以将这个第一乐章视为匈牙利在二战前的一种沉思——游走于李斯特19世纪的传统主义与现代之间。它是一首介于两个时代之间的作品，虽然某些段落令人不安，却总能靠一段独奏、一个在人群中突显的孤声，把自己拉回来。

极慢的慢板就是我上面所说的、简直“尖叫着1939”的那个乐章。怎么会不是呢？它的开篇乐句是安静的、犹豫的、充满恐惧的。在2分04秒处，小提琴奏出一个尖锐的和弦，本质上像是一声奔跑或躲藏的召唤——事情正在急剧变化，毫无秩序可言。这个乐章中有奇特的静默与沉思的片段；它在哀悼前一个乐章所失去的东西，同时望向并不光明的未来。将近十分钟的长度，整首曲子让我深感不安。在音乐厅里坐完全程，是对耐心和自控力的一种锻炼。你很难不被一首明显刺痛你舒适区的作品所激动。它提醒我们：可接近性并不一定意味着乐曲是欢快或昂扬的；它的悲伤、忧虑与黑暗，同样——甚至更加——能为听者所感知。尽管我尊重并钦佩这第二乐章，但当它终于结束时，我还是忍不住松了口气。

很快的快板在开头的几秒钟里，仿佛是从极慢的慢板结束的地方接续而来：一场高潮迭起的追逐在前方，但它几乎立刻重新设定，变回更快版本的民谣式起始乐章。不过这一首是回旋曲，一支真正的舞蹈。它向前奔涌，几乎是在试图让你忘记前一乐章的绝望。而且它确实奏效了！在音乐的某一刻，我甚至在演出中笑出了声。仔细听临近6分钟时的那段：弦乐奏出安静的拨弦旋律，然后以一个轻快的上行音阶扬起。它是如此欢快——甚至可以说可爱——以至于就在你几乎完全忘记前一乐章时，中心主题又席卷而来。它响亮、焦虑、吞噬一切，然后：结束了。它解决了，却没有带来内心的安宁，没有一声如释重负的叹息。还有更多要来的——更多的恐惧、战争、苦难——但巴托克让它留在了言外。