As soon as the two sudden titans finished with broad flourishes of their bows, a tremendous cheer accompanied by even more thunderous applause rose from the enraptured crowd. Perlman and Zukerman then left the stage in unquestionable triumph.
The Passacaglia revealed another, extremely promising and satisfying step in the continuing evolution of Perlman's playing. From the energetic dynamo of the seventies to the sometimes complacent and always prolific artist of the eighties has risen a mature, cerebral virtuoso who has proved his ranking next to Isaac Stern and Salvatore Accardo, although it is yet to be seen whether he can attain the inherent perfection of a Jascha Heifetz.
For his part, Zukerman again validated his position as a soloist with immense aptitude for Romantic playing and all pieces requiring effortless spirit and feeling. If he records Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto again, it could prove to be a benchmark.
The concert was closed with Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra (1943), an alternately morose and satirical exploration of the space of the modern orchestra. The first movement began peremptorily, and gradually built to a climax of off beats and brass reminiscent of Holst.
The second movement offered the sharp contrast of a defective military drumbeat followed by a quirky bassoon solo. In a mix of styles, the muted trumpets that became a favorite of Shostakovich were soon followed by a deep brass hymnal that brought the listener back to Brahms. Here, the Philharmonic's brass section finally showed its depth.
Similarities to Shostakovich also spread into the third movement, where a two-note third was the subject of extensive development. Isolated events in the winds, often based upon a motif of rolling scales up and down, set off punctuation in the brass and strings. At the tranquil end of the movement, the drumbeat returned with a soft flute trill. The wind soloists were all more than competent.
A walking tempo that gathered speed and supported a whimsical clarinet solo inevitably finished in an abrupt minor cadence to start the fourth movement. (This is Bartok, after all.) Throughout the third and fourth movements, Mehta conducted from soloist to soloist in the winds and brass. He often adjusted the meter of his baton strokes to fit the parts that became a continuous string--a real concerto for an orchestra.
In the fifth movement, the strings made it clear that they could play off the winds more easily than the brass that sometimes seemed altogether incongruous. The violins did display incredible volume control, slowly ascending to the finale. Mehta became more animated, cutting circles from the air to cue the violin pizzacati. Mehta did not use his left hand, though, until the very end, when the Bartok brought the full magnitude of the orchestra into being.
The finale, nevertheless, did not bring a full house to its feet. Evidently not moved to continue with Bartok on this journey, some of the audience quickly dashed out of the open-air theater after the third movement. At the end of the fourth movement, still more made their exit. The great majority, however, redeemed themselves by coaxing a rerun of the fifth movement as an encore with their unending applause. Clearly, much of the audience realized just how special the evening was.