Review: Two Artists Arrive at the Philharmonic, Loudly

When the New York Philharmonic performed Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 on Thursday, barely a month had passed since that piece was heard nearby at Carnegie Hall.

The earlier concert, on Feb. 25, happened in the raw, confused early hours of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Yannick Nézet-Séguin had jumped in at the last minute to lead the Vienna Philharmonic, joined by the pianist Seong-Jin Cho. The reason for the switch? The originally scheduled artists, the conductor Valery Gergiev and the pianist Denis Matsuev, had been dropped over their ties to President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia.

As the war continued, the Russian conductor Tugan Sokhiev resigned from his posts at the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow and the Orchestre National du Capitole in Toulouse, France, because of pressure to denounce the invasion. Then, in a mutual decision with the Philharmonic, he withdrew from this week’s program, featuring the Rachmaninoff concerto. (He will be back next spring to lead Shostakovich’s “Leningrad” Symphony.)

For his replacement, the Philharmonic followed a similar course as the Metropolitan Opera. That company replaced the Russian diva Anna Netrebko — once its reigning prima donna, now persona non grata despite a recent about-face in her affiliation with Putin — with the Ukrainian soprano Liudmyla Monastyrska for a revival of Puccini’s “Turandot.” And the Philharmonic turned on Thursday to Anna Rakitina, the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s assistant conductor, who was born in Moscow to Russian and Ukrainian parents.

With more lead time than last month at Carnegie, Thursday’s performance of the Rachmaninoff — at the Rose Theater at Jazz at Lincoln Center — at least had the luxury of proper rehearsal. And the focus was less on the war than what the evening meant for its artists: Rakitina’s Philharmonic debut and the pianist Haochen Zhang’s first subscription series concert, after his brief appearance at a Lunar New Year gala in early 2020.

Their arrivals were announced loudly, even a bit indelicately: The concerto had clarity and crowd-pleasing excitement, but also lapses in sensitivity and shape.

That mix of strengths and weaknesses was not only in the Rachmaninoff, but also in the work that preceded it, Lili Boulanger’s 1918 “D’un Matin de Printemps,” an agile, five-minute survey of Technicolor images that, with a martial touch here, felt less connected to Debussy than to the Russian works to come on the program.

Boulanger’s piece could hardly register alongside a towering piano concerto and a yet more towering symphony, Prokofiev’s Fifth. While Rakitina’s presence at the podium was a reminder of the strides the Philharmonic has made in gender representation among its guest conductors this season, its track record with female composers remains mixed at best.

Orchestrated with the forces of maximal Romantic grandeur, the Rachmaninoff concerto tends to overpower soloists — who, denied a traditional cadenza in the first movement, must often settle for hand-cramping virtuosity that hardly anyone can hear. Not so on Thursday: After the start, with Zhang alone building tension through a slow succession of chords in crescendo, he was a constant presence.

That seemed to come easily to him, as he played with unshowy coolness while revealing the full architecture of his part, all its thick pillars of chords and buttressing runs. In doing so, he occasionally lost his sense of elegance and melodic line; he may have been heard above the strings, but he couldn’t match their sweeping lyricism. Nor did he aim for that sentimentality in his encore, the third movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 12 in A flat: a heroic funeral march, here more dignified than mournful.

There is a funeral march, too, in Prokofiev’s World War II-era Fifth Symphony, albeit a passing one. This work has other preoccupations. Depending on when he was asked, its composer said it was about “the triumph of the human spirit,” “the greatness of the human spirit” and “the spirit of man, his soul or something like that.” (Simon Morrison, in his book “The People’s Artist: Prokofiev’s Soviet Years,” suggests that the comments are not so much glib as, perhaps, signs of a creative outlook changing from “divine inspiration” to “human potential.”)

Rakitina’s interpretation was one of ambivalent optimism, matched by her contrasting gestures at the podium: an emotively outstretched hand in one moment, a hammering beat in another. As throughout the evening, she favored fast tempos and booming dynamics, keeping the audience from truly being seduced by the arioso passages of the first movement. The Scherzo, a visit from the sound world of Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet” ballet, seemed to be on the panicked end of a chase — but a stylized one, with Anthony McGill’s clarinet solos swerving playfully, like a dancer through the streets of “West Side Story.”

Prokofiev again borrowed from previous material in the third movement, which begins with a waltz written for an unrealized film adaptation of Pushkin’s “The Queen of Spades.” Coming after the breathless Scherzo, on Thursday it struggled to find its footing, but eventually did, building toward a keening climax of shrieks and downward runs. That haunted the finale, in which Rakitina brought out the orchestra’s lowest voices to darken the festive conclusion. Here, at last, was a glimpse of this conductor’s potential for undergirding surface-level thrills with deeper meaning.

New York Philharmonic

This program repeats through Saturday at the Rose Theater at Jazz at Lincoln Center, Manhattan; nyphil.org.