Some concerts overwhelm you. Others sneak up on you quietly and stay with you for days. The season finale of the Residentie Orkest at Amare in The Hague offered both experiences at once — from the bold textures of Bartók to the glimmering stillness of Mahler, all framed by moments of farewell and celebration.
It was, in fact, an evening of goodbyes. Cellist Jean-Guihen Queyras closed his residency with the orchestra in a performance that balanced tenderness and precision. For violinist Agnes Houtsmuller, the concert marked her retirement after decades on stage. And yet, despite these endings, the program felt charged with presence — alive, generous, unapologetically human.
The pre-concert “Starter” offered a rare backstage glimpse: Queyras spoke with warmth and humor about his love for Bartók’s music and his collaborative journey with the orchestra. Conductor Jun Märkl joined him, drawing listeners into the spiritual architecture of Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in a way that was accessible, lively, and tinged with dry wit. His enthusiasm did not demand attention — it invited it. Even for those unfamiliar with Mahler’s work, his storytelling awakened curiosity.
I had chosen this concert above all for Jun Märkl. After reading his biography and discovering that he had studied under both Sergiu Celibidache and Leonard Bernstein — two conductors I deeply admire — my expectations were high. They were not only met, but quietly surpassed.
The two Bartók works offered sharply different moods, setting the emotional range of the evening early on. The Hungarian Sketches burst open with playful energy — brief, vivid scenes that felt like overheard stories from a village square, full of color, rhythm, and mischief. In contrast, the Viola Concerto (performed here in Queyras’s own cello arrangement) carried a more intimate and fragile weight. Queyras’s playing was understated but luminous — never showy, always sincere — supported by the orchestra’s quiet attentiveness. When he took his final bow, the applause felt not only grateful, but personal. A gentle goodbye passed between stage and hall.
After the break came Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 — a piece that disguises its depth in charm. Märkl conducted it without a score, but even more striking was his presence: poised, focused, never rigid. He has a quiet charisma that anchors the orchestra — not through grandeur, but through precision, sincerity, and total immersion. Watching him from the front, I noticed not just technique, but temperament: fiercely expressive, yet anchored in precision. One senses he is the kind of conductor who pushes for perfection during rehearsals, but on stage, gives space for music to breathe.
And breathe it did. The first movement sparkled with light and shadows; the second, a dance with something spectral. Then the Adagio — perhaps the most luminous part of the evening — unfolded like a farewell whispered rather than declared. The final movement, sung by soprano Elizabeth Watts, carried sweetness, though from my place in the rear balcony, her voice was occasionally difficult to hear. But that fragility somehow felt in keeping with the work’s message.
Because Mahler’s 4th does not overwhelm — it lingers. It speaks to something deeply human: the longing for peace, the ache of innocence, the unreachable joy of paradise. It is not triumph or tragedy that stays with you, but the gentler emotions in between. Märkl understood that. He did not overstate or explain — he trusted the music, and the audience, to find meaning in its quietest turns. Carmen BULZ 26ᵗʰ May 2025
Photo by Carmen BULZ
