Meeting the Maestro

Recently, I saw a powerful film on Netflix called Maestro. In fact, I found it so moving that I viewed it twice in a row. The film tells the story of the famous Jewish-American conductor Leonard Bernstein and his Chilean wife Felicia. Although Bernstein was very devoted to his wife-- in fact they were soulmates -- he was severely conflicted in his relationship with her because he was also gay and loved young men, especially those he mentored in his work as a conductor.

Bernstein was catapulted into fame in 1959 as the conductor of the New York Philharmonic when, at the age of twenty-five, he was suddenly asked to replace their chief conductor Bruno Walter who had fallen ill. Bernstein's conducting debut proved so successful that he was promptly installed as permanent conductor of the Philharmonic from then on. However, conducting wasn't his only strength. He was just as talented as a composer for such ground-breaking musical works as On the Water Front, West Side Story, and Candide. He was also a very gifted, dedicated teacher and mentor, whose Young People's concerts were as just as popular as his conducting ventures.

The film's director - Cooper - (who also plays the part of Bernstein himself) is masterful in portraying both Leonard's creative struggles as an artist and those of his personal life. At one point, during a TV interview by Edward. R. Murrow, Bernstein expresses his frustration in reconciling the two parts of his personality: the extroverted, people-loving conductor versus the introverted, insecure composer self.

Bernstein's wife Felicia is portrayed wonderfully by actress Carey Mulligan whose expresssive face conveys her love as well as her anger towards her unfaithful husband. The scenes between them, after she finds out she has terminal breast cancer, are so heart-wrenching, they almost made me cry. Indeed, it was that tragedy that finally drew them even closer in love.

My favorite part of the movie occurs while Bernstein is conducting Gustav Mahler's Second (Resurrection) Symphony in Ely Cathedral. As the music gradually swells to an uplifting crescendo in which both orchestra and chorus join in an ecstatic climax of sound, you see him wave his arms wildly, as he practically hurls his entire body into the passion of the moment. As soon as he steps off the podium, his entire body quivering with emotion, he immediately rushes towards Felicia who is standing off to the side of the church waiting for him. Rushing up to her, he lifts her up in his arms to plant a passionate kiss on her lips. She looks completely stunned and overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It is that moment that made me understand the depth and strength of their enduring love.

I heard that Bernstein was the first American conductor who brought Mahler's music into the forefront of the orchestral repertoire. Before the sixties, it had been largely ignored. And, of course, Bernstein is one of Mahler's great interpreters. Gustav Mahler is probably my favorite modern classical composer. And his second (Resurrection) Symphony is my favorite symphony. I'll never forget how I fell in love with it as a shy, angst-ridden seventeen-year old in Cincinnati. I loved the way the music transported me with it's wild, complex mix of emotions, from poignant, to romantic, to heart-rending, to triumphant. It was a few years later when I experienced another musical highlight that relates to the film. When I was an undergrdaduate at Xavier University, I joined their marching and concert bands where I played the flute. We played for football and basketball games. But what I remember most from that time was a piece that our concert band played one spring. It was the Overture to Leonard Bernstein's Candide. I remember that it was a difficult piece to master. But I fell in love with it. It was a thrill for me to be part of an ensemble that played such rousing music. And everytime I hear that piece, it still sends chills up and down my spine.