Over at Language Log Victor Mair quotes at length from an article written by Holly Mathieson, the Music Director of the Symphony of Nova Scotia. After reviewing the word's etymological history, Mathieson goes into its cultural history;
However, I think the cultural history of “maestro” is even more fascinating, and certainly has a far greater bearing on my thoughts about its modern usage. Along with words like masterful, masterpiece, and genius – all three of which are also inherently gendered, etymologically – the concept of the maestro was also inseparable from certain racial and class profiles, not least because through the centuries of its usage, it denoted values and opportunities afforded only to wealthy, abled males from dominant (European) cultures.
In the 20th century, beyond a demographic truism, the term came to be synonymous with the sort of toxic hierarchical and tyrannical behaviour that was fetishized in the popular image of conductors like Arturo Toscanini and Herbert von Karajan. On the surface, it makes for a slightly outlandish “demanding genius” caricature, on which many very ordinary conductors were (and are) happy to trade. But beneath the marketing hype, it also led to gross abuses of power, predatory sexual behaviour, and a pervasive culture of bullying and autocracy. Unfortunately, it still plays out in the often-unhealthy relationship between orchestras and conductors, and the incredibly outdated pay-scale differential between superstar conductors and the players they work with.
I can't help but thinking of that in the context of the current movie, Maestro, which I've been blogging about recently. I've read a number of comments from about the film and about Bernstein; all thought highly of him. But few, if indeed any, of those were from musicians who had worked with him. The movie certainly doesn't depict him as behaving tyrannically toward the musicians he worked with, but then we don't see all that much of him actually working with them as opposed to conducting performances. Two scenes come to mind. One is at an open rehearsal with the Philharmonic, where we see him talking to the audience, but not interacting with the musicians. The other scene is close to the end where he's working with a young conductor at Tanglewood, which whom he dances later at a party. There he's only interacting with the student, and its the student who interacts with the orchestra. I've seen a fair amount of rehearsal footage of Bernstein and he doesn't seem tyrannical there. But off-stage, how was he there?
FWIW, I'm on a trumpet player's listserve and I've read many stories of orchestral trumpet players standing up to conductors.
No comments:
Post a Comment