By request of certain readers, and in consideration of increasing schoolwork, my blog posts will be shorter from now on. ...I hope. LOL.
Last Saturday night, I arrived home past 11 PM, still reeling from being part of the most glorious standing ovation ever.
I had come from Film Night with John Williams and the Boston Pops at Symphony Hall.
Nope, I didn’t get the ticket using the Boston Symphony Orchestra College Card I’ve said so much about on Facebook and in this blog. Rather, I bought the ticket last January. (For $52! Well, I did still have a salary back then, haha.)
What’s the big deal with the Boston Pops? Well, they’re my favorite orchestra. Riiiiight, hokaaayyy, some people might say (and have said, as a matter of fact). Just put it this way: among the many cassettes that Tatay played endlessly at home and in the car while I was growing up, the recordings of John Williams and the Boston Pops were among the very few I actually enjoyed. There was a Christmas album, albums of orchestral renditions of Broadway songs and standards (I actually learned most Broadway songs and standards from those albums), and of course, albums of John Williams’ film scores, including Star Wars, Superman, E.T., and Indiana Jones. Now that I think about it, I would go so far as to say that my love for arranging, and my first lessons in arranging, came from the Boston Pops, with their combinations of lines and timbres which deliver outcomes ranging from fun and playful to dramatic and deeply evocative.
Now for some strange reason, despite being a long-time fanboy, I didn’t realize until months after I decided to go to Berklee that I was actually moving to the home of the Boston Pops. When I did, I immediately checked the website for the shows scheduled near my move -- and there, finding Film Night with John Williams on the first weekend after the start of school, bought myself an orchestra section ticket without batting an eyelash.
I had expected that the show would simply be John Williams and the Boston Pops playing Williams’ film music -- apart from those I mentioned, add Jurassic Park, Schindler’s List, Jaws, and Harry Potter. But like so much else about my Boston experience so far, my night with the Pops turned out to exceed my expectations.
Symphony Hall itself was an experience. I emerged from the subway station right in front of Symphony Hall 30 minutes before showtime, and was able to wander the corridors outside the performance hall, with its exhibits of old musical instruments, portraits and bios of past conductors and musical directors, and even portraits of the members of the orchestra. I promised myself to come earlier the next time I came to see a performance, to experience Symphony Hall better.
Entering the performance hall, I looked upward to see a grand ceiling and classical-style statues perched high along the walls, above the second balcony. On the walls were huge light projections of the stars and stripes, in keeping with the Boston Pops’ theme for the season, “Visions of America.” But below all this grandeur, contrary to my expectation of a stiff venue for symphonic performances, were a slatted wooden floor, folding chairs, round tables, the hustle and bustle of waiters serving waiting audience members. The purist in me considered hating it; but to tell the truth, I loved the relaxed setup and the casual energy.
At exactly 8 PM, the lights went down, a door opened on stage right, and John Williams walked onstage and up to his conductor’s podium. Right then I realized just how awesome my position was that evening: I was in the same room as a genius who had composed some of the greatest and most best-known music of our time. (I would even go so far to liken him to a modern-day Beethoven -- after all, who hasn’t heard the theme from Star Wars?) And not only was I in the same room as this genius: I was also about to hear him conduct his music, by the same orchestra that had recorded this music in the first place, which I had grown up listening to. All my life I had watched conductors and orchestras performing someone else’s music -- but here was someone conducting his own music. I was in awe.
John Williams raised and lowered his baton, and the show opened with the Olympic fanfare he wrote (for Atlanta, I believe). I enjoyed it -- the energy of the composition and the orchestra, particularly the Pops’ brilliant brass section -- but I was puzzled about what this piece was doing in film night. I opened the souvenir programs that were on each table in the venue, and to my surprise, there were very few Williams movie titles in the repertoire for the evening: Tintin, Superman, War Horse, and The Reivers (the latter two of which I had never even heard). Apart from these were a whole section for the Olympics, a tribute to Fenway Park (Boston’s baseball stadium), a salute to the western featuring works by other composers (such as Dances With Wolves by John Barry), and a tribute to Bette Davis. I’ll admit I was a little disheartened, having expected a night of Williams film themes; but still, I kept an open mind, curious how the evening would go.
Sure enough, the evening did not disappoint. The music from War Horse and other films was fantastic; and for the other portions, the show made brilliant use of multimedia to heighten the sensory experience. There was a glorious montages of epic Olympic moments, and of the stunning Bette Davis; a live narration by Senator Alan Simpson of excerpts from William Faulkner’s novel The Reivers, as music from the movie The Reivers played, demonstrating the power of music to enhance, even tell, a story; and a video of scenes from Fenway Park’s 100 years, which the audience loved -- again, sparking my affection for this city that loves its symphony orchestra just as much as it loves its sports teams.
And as the show was drawing to a close, just before the last number in the program, John Williams spoke into the microphone to announce a “program change”: they were going to do a tribute to his collaborations with Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. The audience’s excitement was tangible -- especially when the all-too-familiar double basses started to play their ominous notes, and scenes from Jaws started to flash on the huge screen above the orchestra. Jaws segued into Star Wars, to uproarious applause from the audience -- and this is where my tears started to flow, as images of Luke and Yoda and Darth Vader flashed on the screen, accompanied by such overwhelming music which I had heard countless times, but now played by this orchestra under the baton of this genius. Star Wars became Indiana Jones, and tears gave way to appetite for a very hot Harrison Ford; but tears started to flow again, even moreso than before, when up came the soaring strings, and Elliott, and Drew Barrymore, and flying bicycles, and the little alien who phoned home in one of the first movies I ever saw in a cinema.
After that came the glorious standing ovation -- no hesitation, everyone instantly up off their seats, applauding wildly and crying “Bravo!”, from the orchestra section all the way up to second balcony. What a privilege to have been one of them.
A couple more numbers -- a suite from Superman, and Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever, and I was on the bus home, thoughts about the evening tumbling into my iPhone’s Notepad, and the sounds of the evening still ringing in my ears.
What a great first date with the Pops. And as of this writing, thanks to my $2 College Card, I actually already saw another show -- Cole Porter night last Wednesday, which also featured songs by Irving Berlin, George Gerswhin, Jerome Kern and Richard Rodgers -- and have another date for Gospel Night this Saturday. And I was happy to learn that Mikee, a Boston-based Pinoy friend and fellow music-lover who joined me for Cole Porter night, is also a fan of the Boston Pops and would watch them more often if only he had company. After all, standing ovations are better shared.
Three dates with the Boston Pops in eight days; and for sure, more to come in the months ahead. Fanboy has never felt so alive.
