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Is there an opera house in the world that boasts a better orchestra than Vienna's? Whether in the iridescent pulsations of Salome or the silky, intimate lyricism of Figaro, or the architectural sweep of Fidelio, the orchestra played like a first-rate symphonic ensemble — which, of course, is what it is. When not in the opera pit, it is the renowned Vienna Philharmonic. With Bernstein again on the podium, it excelled last week in a highly dramatic, virtuoso performance of Beethoven's Ninth. Bernstein tended to heighten what needed no heightening, but by the time the final movement erupted out of the smooth melodic arcs of the adagio, he and his players had built up a triumphant momentum. The Vienna chorus— tonally brilliant, never forced or fuzzy — drove home the finale splendidly.
For the Kennedy Center's venturesome executive director, Martin Feinstein, whose previous imports have included La Scala and West Berlin's Deutsche Oper, the Vienna visit turns out to be the final coup of his tenure. Internal conflicts have led the center's board to redefine Feinstein's status as of Nov. 30, retaining him thereafter only in the less powerful role of director of opera and ballet. The impact of this change on future visits by foreign companies is unclear.
The Viennese are going through transition too. Shortly before the company left Vienna, it announced that Director Egon Seefehlner, 67, would retire and Cleveland Orchestra Music Director Lorin Maazel, 49, would take over in the 1982-83 season. Maazel is the first American to be entrusted with the company's treasured legacy. Possibly his appointment signals a desire by the Viennese to open up that legacy to new influences. One hopes so. The operas brought to Washington are all great works; but they are also cultural totems, safe and certified, and this reflects a basic conservatism in the company's outlook. It would have been refreshing if one production had been set aside for something offbeat, to show what the company can do in a more unusual direction. The great Viennese tradition, after all, is made up of a succession of creative figures who transformed it even as they were perpetuating it. Mahler once burst out to his recalcitrant colleagues: "What you theater people call your tradition is nothing but your comfort and your laziness." Maazel seems prepared to line up with Mahler when he says: "Opera has to be renewed constantly. I shall not hesitate to break with tradition to maintain the excellence of this company."
Meanwhile, that excellence is on view in Washington, making an eloquent case for the company's conservatism. If the Viennese venerate the ghosts in their midst, at least they have chosen to venerate the best. —Christopher Porterfield