Newly branded Vivo Performing Arts, formerly known as the Boston Celebrity Series, brought to Symphony Hall yesterday, the robust forces of the Budapest Festival Orchestra, combined with two choruses and a soloist for a well-coordinated attack on the edifice of Mahler’s 3^rd. The ambitions of the piece, reflecting the glory of Vienna, combined with those of the musicians, representing the second capital of the Austro-Hungarian union, resulted in an unforgettable period drama.  

Mahler’s original pantheistic messaging of the first movement notwithstanding, the entry of the French horns evoked a distinctly imperial mood. They blasted a statement in the rhythm of Brahms’s chorale from the Finale of the First Symphony, as if that peaceful theme mutated over the decades and acquired a taste for European domination. And there was more to come, as the trumpets and trombones from the opposite side of the stage expressed their own claim to power. Within those mighty claws were squeezed diverse peoples from Galicja to Croatia, represented by other sections. The violins had their turn, but their vigorous bowing hardly delivered a match for the voices of dual empires of power.  

Iván Fischer had no problems filling the royal boots of a benevolent Habsburg. As development proceeded, the Mahlerian method of layered self-sufficient episodes gradually took hold, winning some warmth under the sun for those huddled multi-ethnic masses. And we started noticing some of the masterful tricks from Fischer’s toolbox. He embellished Mahler’s polynarrative, with distinct parts given to various sections, by communicating here to second violins and there to first violins, here to horns and there to cellos, as if in completely separate conversations. As a net effect, each section marched to its own heartbeat, the whole corpus projecting tremendous vibrancy and variety. Diversity flourished (dare we say), and some of the bravura episodes reminded me to what extent Mahler had been an influence on Soviet composers from Shostakovich to Dunaevsky. Those tunes brought back a forgotten sense of musical prodding that shook a Young Pioneer in the morning with a message to wake up, shape up, and contribute to the buildup of a Communist Future. Ultimately, as various sections took the leads, a charming theatricality emerged; the string players bowed with such abandon as if their dinners awaited.

By the time recapitulation arrived, the sting of the imperial tunes had faded, and good will towards the populace obtained all along the Danube. But for Mahler, this 40-minute-broad canvas had been but an opening act setting up the choral groups’ embarkation on a new tour of the attractive Habsburg domains.

The Tempo di menuetto second movement channeled the wholesome fun of frolicking on the hills bursting with Riesling and Veltliner. The mood switched to pastoral, with luscious swells of the strings and unpretentious violin solos. The Comodo.Scherzando brought back the folksiness and ethno-variety, with dance-like themes bouncing between flutes and woodwinds. The carnival did not last long though, as the offstage post horn grabbed attention with its ethereal and elaborate call. It evoked loftier realms, as the time drew close to abandon fun and Gemütlichkeit and prepare the stage for a loftier version of humanity.

Interestingly from the perspective of cultural history, nobody seemed to mind in 1896 when Mahler used the words of Nietzsche’s Zarathustra for an alto part, swapping the superman for a superwoman, or at least a superhuman. With Gerhild Romberger’s performance of that song, his choice got a mighty affirmation; she powerfully and nobly celebrated freedom from worldly concerns and discovery of joy within depths of fear. There emerged glorious harmony between her voice and contrasting utterings from winds and solo violin, reminding me of a highly plausible theory about a female model and inspiration for the figure of Zarathustra.

Romberger then joined forces with the Boston Lyric Opera Chorus and the Boys of the St. Paul Choir School for the pure and innocent Lustig im Tempo. The seemingly mandatory nod towards official religion came across as joyful and relaxed.

The time had come for ascending the contrapuntal temple of the Finale. Fischer chose a fresh initial tempo which avoided lethargic excesses. From the composer’s markings, he put  emphasis on Empfunden rather than on Langsam. Once again, the sections maintained their own heartbeats, and collaborated smoothly. The trumpets soared and never overwhelmed, while trombones mightily supported their rhetoric. The ultimate buildup kept us firmly among the marvels Jahrhundertwende/Secession Vienna, even as the timpani were sealing its fate with their final D major beats. While achieving a planned cathartic effect, it also filled us with sadness. The journey into the long-forgotten empire was over, and it was time to roll the credits and quietly lament the sinking of the Danubian Atlantis.

Speaking of the credits, there is a strong ambivalence in the Celebrity Series’s strong marketing message that, “you are no longer our target audience, boomer.” Still, as we just got reminded, history marches on, and as long as we stick to the present level of performance and repertoire, the best of luck and sincere good wishes for the re-branding.

Victor Khatutsky has written for the Intelligencer since 2014. He also interests himself in genomics and the poetry of Boris Pasternak.