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3. Berezovsky: When Virtuosity Approaches the Absolute, but Misses the Revelation

Boris Berezovsky opened the thirty-first musical season of the al-Bustan festival with a performance alternating moments of brilliance and restraint. While his virtuosity never faltered, certain interpretations, particularly of Beethoven and Chopin, lacked the emotional depth that should have elevated the works, before his playing truly shone in Liszt’s compositions.

Some concerts provoke an almost mystical anticipation. They carry within them a promise—a moment of weightlessness where music, liberated from time, becomes absolute. Boris Berezovsky belongs to the elite of artists whose mere presence is enough to awaken collective fervor. But while emotion often precedes judgment, it must not dictate it. In this review, objectivity demands a rigor that excludes any consideration of the artist's political engagements, however controversial. The aim here is not to scrutinize the man but to listen to the artist, standing alone at his keyboard, in the purity of sound and harmony. On February 26, the Russian pianist opened the thirty-first musical season of the al-Bustan festival, one of the last refuges for classical music still resisting decay in Lebanon. This year, more than ever, such a festival seems almost an act of faith. The anticipation, therefore, matched the myth.

Density of Musical Expression

The evening began with Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sonata No. 21 in C major, Op. 53, known as "Waldstein." Although Berezovsky did not compromise on technical demands, his playing, though brilliant, failed to capture that fragile truth that transforms a performance into a revelation. His virtuosity, undoubtedly impressive, was immediately evident, but the pianist unfortunately succumbed to a certain haste, particularly in the first movement, Allegro con brio, where the phrasing’s breath, attention to detail, and the musical depth of Beethoven’s language were neglected in favor of a too hasty interpretation. His piano roared, but beneath this controlled thunder, one searched in vain for the moment of purity that evokes emotion.

Staying true to his reputation for defying expectations, the virtuoso once again chose not to follow the announced program. By happy coincidence, he turned instead to Frédéric Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in B flat minor, Op. 31, which Tony Yike Yang had magnificently interpreted two days earlier at the Antonine University. Berezovsky’s performance was marked by a perfect equality in scales, flowing across the keyboard with great fluidity. The tempo he adopted gave the whole piece a breathless dynamic, limiting the exploration of contrasts and harmonic nuances that the work allows. However, the dramatic tension remained intact, and Berezovsky’s impetuosity did justice, albeit imperfectly, to the vigor and musicality of this famous composition.

Change in Tone

After a twenty-minute intermission, the pianist’s return to the stage was marked by a change in tone. With a score in hand, Berezovsky delivered a faithful and measured reading of Franz Liszt’s Ballade No. 2 in B minor, S. 171, highlighting the thematic richness of the work. The piece begins with a dark chromatic movement, followed by an ascending scale motif, wonderfully contrasted by a bright Allegretto theme, which Berezovsky rendered with finesse. The pianist succeeded in bringing out the full dramatic narrative of the piece, skillfully linking broken octaves and rapid scales, characteristic elements of Liszt’s language. His dexterity, perfectly suited to this repertoire, enhanced the power and fluidity of the performance.

Continuing in the same vein, Berezovsky then tackled Liszt’s First Mephisto Waltz, S. 514. This virtuoso portrayal of an episode from the Austrian poet Nikolaus Lenau’s verse poem (1802-1850), inspired by the Faust legend, demonstrated that the pianist does not shy away from the most challenging pages of the piano repertoire. He displayed transcendent technique, emphasizing the waltz form Liszt constantly seeks to disturb with rhythmic and textural innovations, amplifying the mischievousness of the piece. He managed to make each phrase resonate with precision and weight unique to him, showing phenomenal ease at the keyboard.

The Russian virtuoso then turned to Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 11, S. 244, in A minor, once again demonstrating the vast extent of his virtuosity before concluding the concert beautifully with two Chopin études: Étude Op. 25, No. 2 in F minor and Étude Op. 25, No. 1 in A flat major. In this final interlude, the musician offered a breath of almost ephemeral poetry, amidst a performance otherwise marked by technical demonstration.