Measure for Measure
This article originally appeared in Toronto’s Globe and Mail newspaper, on March 7, 2006.
by Colin Eatock
Riccardo Muti steps up to the podium of Vienna’s Musikverein concert hall like a man who means business. With barely a glance at the audience, the maestro raises his baton and the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra delivers its famously warm sound on cue. He’s not a tall or imposing figure, but he retains a supple youthfulness at 65. And when leading an orchestra, he’s a man of extremes: at times he barely moves at all, at other times he throws his whole body into the music.
Offstage, over coffee at Vienna’s Hotel Imperial, Muti is charming and gracious – if not exactly casual. “I am always very serious in my work,” he states with unalloyed earnstness. “And I’m not a very easy person as a conductor,” he adds, with just a hint of a smile.
When Muti first stepped in front of an orchestra at the age of 20 in his native Naples, he knew he had found his calling. In 1968 he was hired as music director of Florence’s Maggio Musicale music festival, in 1972 he was named principal conductor of London’s Philharmonia Orchestra, in 1980 he became the conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and by 1987 he was appointed music director of Milan’s La Scala – the high temple of opera in Italy.
Currently he’s touring North America with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra: he’ll lead the VPO tonight at Toronto’s Roy Thomson Hall. Muti has enjoyed a 36-year association with the VPO, and speaks with deep respect for its players. “Since the time of Beethoven, there’s been an uninterrupted musical tradition in this orchestra,” he explains. “They’ve kept their unique timbre and phrasing, in a world where many orchestras lack a distinctive personality. The Vienna Philharmonic is one of the very few orchestra that’s still able to maintain its traditions.”
He’s not, however, the music director of the Vienna Philharmonic (the VPO is a musician-run ensemble that doesn’t have a full-time conductor), nor is he the music director of anything else, these days. After a lifetime of steady career ascent, Muti took a steep tumble last April, when he was publicly forced from his position at La Scala.
It was a palace coup of operatic proportions. “Dismission!” chanted the theatre’s musicians and staff, as they voted almost unanimously to demand Muti’s resignation. After a few weeks of defiant posturing – Muti refused to step down, but he also refused to conduct La Scala’s orchestra – the celebrated conductor threw in the towel.
The ostensible cause of the rift between him and La Scala was Muti’s move to replace the theatre’s general manager, Carlo Fontana, with Mauro Meli, an administrator perceived as more supportive of Muti. Viewing this act as an aggressive power play, the musicians and staff closed ranks against their maestro. But the roots of the dispute ran deeper than that, to the core of his artistic and personal ethos. Muti built his career on pure talent, hard work, a keen intellect, and a deep respect for both tradition and composers’ intentions. For him, it’s all about the music – and it’s just about the music. And he expects no less from others.
Stories about his fiercely uncompromising nature abound. Once, when La Scala’s orchestra threatened to go on strike, he gave a performance of La Traviata anyway, playing the score himself on a piano in the orchestra pit. On another occasion, he refused to conduct La Forza del Destino at London’s Covert Garden because he didn’t agree with proposed changes to the scenery.
And while his downfall was a shocking surprise to the classical music world, the shrewdly insightful Muti may have seen it coming. “They crucify you while you’re here, and canonize you later,” he told Opera News magazine back in 1999. “I will be a saint too, once they do me in.” For someone who claims to be essentially apolitical, he knows a lot about politics.
A year ago, those close to Muti said he was “very bitter” about the rebellion against him. But today he seems unperturbed about his ejection from the opera houe he ran for nearly two decades. “For 19 years La Scala was very good and very strong,” he says, without emotion. “Then, at a certain point, things that have nothing to do with artistic matters entered, and the situation became very rough. For 19 years I was able to keep political interference out of the theatre. But when the situation changed internally and externally, then there was no reason to stay any more.”
He’s evasive, though, about the exact nature the interference he alludes to. (“It would take too long to explain, and you would not believe me!”) He’d rather talk about his accomplishments during his tenure in Milan. “First, I made the orchestra much better than before,” he asserts, “by bringing in young, new players. I think I left the theatre with an orchestra and chorus in better form. There are many fine young musicians at La Scala today, and I selected each one.”
He continues: “I brought back to the repertoire operas like La Traviata, Il Trovatore and Rigoletto – and this was one of my most important achievements. I brought back La Traviata after 26 years. The conductors and singers were afraid to do it, because the public in Milan can be extremely difficult. The previous Traviata had been a disaster, with the public shouting in the theatre. I brought back Rigoletto after 24 years – and Trovatore, in the original way, with all the famous high notes taken out completely. It was very courageous of me.”
Was he too demanding during his years at La Scala? “I was very demanding even when I was 27 years old!” he laughs. “The reason I was offered my first position at the Maggio Musicale was because they needed a conductor to put the situation in order. They realized that I was strong – not like a dictator, but strong in artistic discipline. Orchestras don’t like conductors who act as dictators, and many times the conductors who are arrogant and aggressive are the ones who are not very good.”
Since his departure from La Scala, Muti has been picking and choosing his engagements, guest-conducting with a clutch of orchestras dear to his heart; such as the VPO, and agreeing to lead the occasional opera in Vienna, Salzburg or New York. (He’s looking forward to leading Verdi’s Attila in a new production at the Metropolitan Opera in 2009.) He’s also taken a strong interest in music education, and works with the Orchestra Luigi Cherubini, an Italian youth orchestra.
However, he’s in no hurry to take on another permanent conducting position, and says he’s turned down several full-time posts with orchestras. He declines to reveal which ones, but the New York Philharmonic and the Bavarian Radio Orchestra are likely candidates, given his association with those organizations.
Indeed, the mere thought of a new appointment seems to horrify him. “Absolutely not!” he declares. “First I was musical director of the Maggio Musicale, then the Philharmonia, then Philadelphia, and then La Scala. Now I am completely free to do what ever I want.”
© Colin Eatock 2006
by Colin Eatock
Riccardo Muti steps up to the podium of Vienna’s Musikverein concert hall like a man who means business. With barely a glance at the audience, the maestro raises his baton and the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra delivers its famously warm sound on cue. He’s not a tall or imposing figure, but he retains a supple youthfulness at 65. And when leading an orchestra, he’s a man of extremes: at times he barely moves at all, at other times he throws his whole body into the music.
Offstage, over coffee at Vienna’s Hotel Imperial, Muti is charming and gracious – if not exactly casual. “I am always very serious in my work,” he states with unalloyed earnstness. “And I’m not a very easy person as a conductor,” he adds, with just a hint of a smile.
When Muti first stepped in front of an orchestra at the age of 20 in his native Naples, he knew he had found his calling. In 1968 he was hired as music director of Florence’s Maggio Musicale music festival, in 1972 he was named principal conductor of London’s Philharmonia Orchestra, in 1980 he became the conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and by 1987 he was appointed music director of Milan’s La Scala – the high temple of opera in Italy.
Currently he’s touring North America with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra: he’ll lead the VPO tonight at Toronto’s Roy Thomson Hall. Muti has enjoyed a 36-year association with the VPO, and speaks with deep respect for its players. “Since the time of Beethoven, there’s been an uninterrupted musical tradition in this orchestra,” he explains. “They’ve kept their unique timbre and phrasing, in a world where many orchestras lack a distinctive personality. The Vienna Philharmonic is one of the very few orchestra that’s still able to maintain its traditions.”
He’s not, however, the music director of the Vienna Philharmonic (the VPO is a musician-run ensemble that doesn’t have a full-time conductor), nor is he the music director of anything else, these days. After a lifetime of steady career ascent, Muti took a steep tumble last April, when he was publicly forced from his position at La Scala.
It was a palace coup of operatic proportions. “Dismission!” chanted the theatre’s musicians and staff, as they voted almost unanimously to demand Muti’s resignation. After a few weeks of defiant posturing – Muti refused to step down, but he also refused to conduct La Scala’s orchestra – the celebrated conductor threw in the towel.
The ostensible cause of the rift between him and La Scala was Muti’s move to replace the theatre’s general manager, Carlo Fontana, with Mauro Meli, an administrator perceived as more supportive of Muti. Viewing this act as an aggressive power play, the musicians and staff closed ranks against their maestro. But the roots of the dispute ran deeper than that, to the core of his artistic and personal ethos. Muti built his career on pure talent, hard work, a keen intellect, and a deep respect for both tradition and composers’ intentions. For him, it’s all about the music – and it’s just about the music. And he expects no less from others.
Stories about his fiercely uncompromising nature abound. Once, when La Scala’s orchestra threatened to go on strike, he gave a performance of La Traviata anyway, playing the score himself on a piano in the orchestra pit. On another occasion, he refused to conduct La Forza del Destino at London’s Covert Garden because he didn’t agree with proposed changes to the scenery.
And while his downfall was a shocking surprise to the classical music world, the shrewdly insightful Muti may have seen it coming. “They crucify you while you’re here, and canonize you later,” he told Opera News magazine back in 1999. “I will be a saint too, once they do me in.” For someone who claims to be essentially apolitical, he knows a lot about politics.
A year ago, those close to Muti said he was “very bitter” about the rebellion against him. But today he seems unperturbed about his ejection from the opera houe he ran for nearly two decades. “For 19 years La Scala was very good and very strong,” he says, without emotion. “Then, at a certain point, things that have nothing to do with artistic matters entered, and the situation became very rough. For 19 years I was able to keep political interference out of the theatre. But when the situation changed internally and externally, then there was no reason to stay any more.”
He’s evasive, though, about the exact nature the interference he alludes to. (“It would take too long to explain, and you would not believe me!”) He’d rather talk about his accomplishments during his tenure in Milan. “First, I made the orchestra much better than before,” he asserts, “by bringing in young, new players. I think I left the theatre with an orchestra and chorus in better form. There are many fine young musicians at La Scala today, and I selected each one.”
He continues: “I brought back to the repertoire operas like La Traviata, Il Trovatore and Rigoletto – and this was one of my most important achievements. I brought back La Traviata after 26 years. The conductors and singers were afraid to do it, because the public in Milan can be extremely difficult. The previous Traviata had been a disaster, with the public shouting in the theatre. I brought back Rigoletto after 24 years – and Trovatore, in the original way, with all the famous high notes taken out completely. It was very courageous of me.”
Was he too demanding during his years at La Scala? “I was very demanding even when I was 27 years old!” he laughs. “The reason I was offered my first position at the Maggio Musicale was because they needed a conductor to put the situation in order. They realized that I was strong – not like a dictator, but strong in artistic discipline. Orchestras don’t like conductors who act as dictators, and many times the conductors who are arrogant and aggressive are the ones who are not very good.”
Since his departure from La Scala, Muti has been picking and choosing his engagements, guest-conducting with a clutch of orchestras dear to his heart; such as the VPO, and agreeing to lead the occasional opera in Vienna, Salzburg or New York. (He’s looking forward to leading Verdi’s Attila in a new production at the Metropolitan Opera in 2009.) He’s also taken a strong interest in music education, and works with the Orchestra Luigi Cherubini, an Italian youth orchestra.
However, he’s in no hurry to take on another permanent conducting position, and says he’s turned down several full-time posts with orchestras. He declines to reveal which ones, but the New York Philharmonic and the Bavarian Radio Orchestra are likely candidates, given his association with those organizations.
Indeed, the mere thought of a new appointment seems to horrify him. “Absolutely not!” he declares. “First I was musical director of the Maggio Musicale, then the Philharmonia, then Philadelphia, and then La Scala. Now I am completely free to do what ever I want.”
© Colin Eatock 2006
