Tears and Goosebumps

Life is always enriched and intensified by experiencing some transcendental and ethereal piece of art. As I write this, I am listening to "Adagietto", the fourth movement of Gustav Mahler's Symphony no.5.

Brought to the attention of the mainstream by its prominent inclusion in the film "Death In Venice", this is now one of my favourite pieces of music, and to think that I only discovered it at the age of 40....

"Adagietto" is one of those works which, if the listener is not concentrating fully, can float innocently by, just occasionally intruding to remind one of its power and aesthetic charm. However, if the listener immerses himself or herself fully, they can be transported onto another emotional plain.

When listening to the piece, rather than think that I am hearing an orchestra, I think of the sound rather as an amorphous force of nature, with the individual instruments almost indistinguishable.

At the risk of appearing trite and corny, I would like this piece of music to be played at my funeral.

On occasion, "Adagietto" has induced lachrymosity in me, hence the title of this blog post!

For "goosebumps", or indeed a shiver down the spine, the music of Richard Wagner emphatically delivers the goods. I discussed an example of my interaction with Wagner's work in an earlier blog post:

It's Only Music, Or Is It?

The tears precipitated by Mahler's piece may have been due to its poignancy, or perhaps just its pure beauty; I am not totally sure.  Equally, Wagner's fabulous "Siegfried Idyll" may give me the shivers, but I struggle to explain away the precise reason.

Great and potent art, and especially music, penetrates our very being, our innermost psyche and soul, in ways which we cannot hope to properly analyse, and the random and imponderable manifestations of that penetration are part of the mystery and the beauty.

I prefer not to dwell too much on these factors, just relishing the music, revelling in the sensations which it provides, and leaving more high-brow deliberations to the self-appointed experts!

Classical Music

It is often a matter of regret to us that we dismiss, and even ridicule, early in our lives some things which, in retrospect, could have been of value and benefit to our lives. Such an approach is sometimes based on ignorance, and at other times born of peer pressure or plain cowardice or lack of backbone.

In my teens, I had a music teacher at school who always strove to enthuse his pupils with his own love for classical music. His tutelage had some effect on me, and the music began to enter my consciousness, in particular the work of Zoltan Kodaly and Jean Sibelius.

In any sane world, classical music would from then on have become part and parcel of my leisure time, enriching my life. But, of course, in adolescence we are subject to forces which often preclude such cultural departures, including the fear of mockery and the clamour to conform and belong. So, classical music was shoved into the background of my life, as I ran with the crowd.

It was only around two years ago that I truly rediscovered classical music, and then almost by accident. A thread on an internet forum prompted me to revisit some of the music from those school music classes. This renewed curiosity opened up a whole new vista of entertainment, cultural stimuli and spirituality. The music "spoke" to me to such an extent that I felt a genuine tinge of disappointment that my quality of life could have benefited had I not so summarily banished it all those years previously.

The particular sub-types of classical music which I have been drawn to are those which have a real emotional pull and resonance, and which have the capacity to stir the soul.   So Gustav Mahler, Richard Wagner, Franz Liszt and my old friend Sibelius tend to be favoured, and even the operas of Puccini are also beginning to make their presence felt.

With my "re-conversion" to the glories of classical music, I could perhaps have been forgiven for seeing some rock and pop music in a different light, belittling it as somehow hollow or superficial. However, my regard for my favourite rock artists has barely altered.  After all has been said and done, music is music, and much of it has the power to delight and stimulate, no matter when it was written or originally performed. I have simply become conscious once more of the ability of some classical music to accomplish this role.

Oddly enough, as my tastes in classical have tilted towards Romantic and post-Romantic composers, it is the music of the eras preceding these movements which I have had trouble getting worked up about!  After listening to Mahler, Wagner et al, even some of the works of Mozart, Bach and Haydn have appeared slightly "fluffy" and lightweight to me!

Death In Venice

Just recently, I have turned my cinematic attention more towards what may be termed European art cinema. I will be blogging my thoughts on some of the films which I have watched.

I had seen clips from Luchino Visconti's 1971 masterpiece "Death In Venice" before, and also have hazy recollections of seeing the film as a child. I was latterly turned on to the film by my interest in the music of Gustav Mahler, which plays a prominent role in it.

The movie is based on Thomas Mann's novel, and centres on an ageing composer, played by Dirk Bogarde, who decides to spend some time in Venice because of his failing health. Once there he becomes obsessed with a handsome adolescent Polish boy.

One of the most striking aspects of "Death In Venice" is the relative lack of dialogue throughout. Visconti opts to let the lavish visuals (sets and constumes, as well as the scenery) and the majesty of Mahler's music drive the story along.

Bogarde delivers a remarkable performance, possibly the zenith of his career.

The final scene is probably one of the most moving and poignant in all of world cinema, played out to the strains of "Adagietto", from Mahler's Symphony no.5.

"Death In Venice" is a feast for the senses, and less a film than a work of art. Stunning.