Film, Media and Music
This chapter focuses on a particular brand of cinematic travel undertaken within the confines of ‘Fortress Europe’ and inspired by travel interactions. I label this practice ‘touring’, a variant of tourism that frequently overlaps with other types of mobility. It will be examined through the lens of airport cinema, a term that encompasses both air travel and the more frequent use of the airport itself as a setting. Collectively touring films present Europe as a productive border zone similar to what Étienne Balibar has termed ‘borderland Europe’, within which the filmmakers in question interrogate national identity and investigate what it means to belong to a broader European category that Balibar names ‘multiple-citizenship’. This chapter focuses on air travel because – while not something generally perceived as particularly cinematic – it has had a dramatic impact on how Europeans perceive space and their own relationships to borders within the context of Europe’s new geographies. This new form of mobility has not only facilitated long-distance travel within Europe; it has also – like the tunnels and high-speed rail discussed in Chapter 1 – engendered dramatic realignments of spatial dynamics within and across nations, and new and sometimes challenging relationships with local residents. The chapter covers nine examples, from Philippe Lioret’s 1993 Tombés du ciel through two final films covered in more detail: L’Italien, by Olivier Baroux (2010) and Viagem a Portugal (Sérgio Tréfaut, 2011). These consider the place of postcolonial subjects and other ostensible outsiders in Europe within the touring context.
This chapter discusses five films by ‘global French’ filmmakers set at least partially in or involving journeys towards ports in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It considers the borderland potential of ports and water from the perspective of those who reside there rather than those who have arrived (recently) as migrants or refugees. Seen from this vantage point, ports are protean spaces revealing multiple layers of belonging and diverse, multidirectional trajectories. They also serve as loci of solidarity across borders. I consider two French films that involve voyages to Calais, coming respectively after the major encampment-dismantling campaigns of 2009 and 2016, and that represent the area and its migrants in different ways: Une saison en France (Mahamet-Saleh Haroun, 2017) and Le Havre (Aki Kaurismäki, 2011). I then move to the Mediterranean to consider two French auteurs whose work has consistently problematised binary approaches to borders and categorisations of French national cinema. In La villa (Robert Guédiguian, 2017), the arrival of refugee children in a small seaside hamlet on the outskirts of Marseille provides a backdrop for the locals’ interrogation of the shifting nature of place, solidarity, and identity. Tony Gatlif’s Djam (2017) questions any neat, binary distinction between Europe and other places. Djam is set against the backdrop of dual crises: one financial and the other the dramatic influx of refugees in 2015, which remains hauntingly unseen even as its vestiges are entirely unavoidable. The chapter also covers Gatlif’s 2012 hybrid political documentary Indignados in relation to Djam.
The aria Erste Liebe, Himmelslust, WoO 92 (previously known as Primo amore, piacer del ciel), is the longest Beethoven composed, far exceeding those in Fidelio or his other dramatic and stage works. As one of his earliest arias, its origins have remained somewhat obscured because of limited surviving evidence, while the Italian translation copied into the autograph manuscript (now in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin) reinforced the perception of his inadequacies at text-setting. More recently, the identification of brief German-language sketches in the Kafka Miscellany (British Library) and Ernst Herttrich’s 1993 discovery of Gerhard Anton von Halem’s original German poem have paved the way for renewed assessment of the work. This chapter offers a more thorough consideration of all extant evidence in relation to the work’s genesis (including a sketch housed in the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna, not previously associated with WoO 92), assesses Beethoven’s construction of an aria that deviates deliberately from the strophic refrain structure of Halem’s poem, and aims to offer a re-evaluation of his nuanced approach to metre, motif and meaning as viewed through the lens of the original German-language text. Such analysis demonstrates that Erste Liebe is a strikingly sophisticated (and subtly prophetic) manifestation of Beethoven’s approach to text-setting, while offering a valuable point of departure for evaluating his subsequent engagement with large-scale aria forms in later stage works and dramatic genres.
Beethoven is commonly perceived as a religious man whose music often reflects his faith, but as only a superficial adherent to Catholicism. Many still consider him more influenced by freemasonry, contemporary philosophy, non-Christian religions or secular reforms than as a man of faith. This chapter reassesses the case for his orthodoxy, particularly referencing significant statements concerning his beliefs, the diverse influences on his thought and faith, and their relationship to his music, morality and actions. These influences include his family; his broader education; classicism; Enlightenment thought, politics and reforms and their interaction with Catholicism; Romanticism; the Catholic religious revival; literary, philosophical or theological writers and thinkers such as Schiller, Kant, Christoph Christian Sturm, Clemens Maria Hofbauer, Zacharias Werner and Thomas a Kempis; and members of Beethoven’s circle, such as Joseph Carl Bernard and Carl Joseph Peters, who are shown to encompass a more complex, wide-ranging outlook than the narrower religious confines often attributed to them. Also re-examined are personal events such as Beethoven’s death, his nephew Karl’s upbringing and the manifestation of his beliefs in his compositions, particularly his Missa solemnis. Some influences have hitherto been almost completely neglected and others misrepresented, notably Beethoven’s maternal family (particularly his mother, his cousin Franz Rovantini and his many relatives of clerical or religious state), Sturm, and in particular the theologian Johann Michael Sailer – whose influence is investigated in depth. From this reappraisal emerges a man and composer of far more orthodox Christian faith and integrated thought than previously considered.
The relationship between Beethoven and his first composition teacher, Christian Gottlob Neefe, is somewhat shrouded in mystery. Little documentary evidence survives to outline either the extent or the content of their lessons together, and there is no certainty over the dates at which their studies together began or ceased. Nevertheless, shortly before Beethoven’s departure from Bonn in 1792, both he and Neefe independently composed a set of thirteen variations for piano on themes from Dittersdorf’s opera Das rote Käppchen, a work which had been performed to great acclaim in the city in 1792. These two sets of variations offer a particularly valuable resource for assessing Neefe’s influence on Beethoven’s music, since a number of correspondences between them suggest a line of influence between teacher and student. This chapter discusses the circumstances in which both sets of variations were composed and provides a detailed comparison of their contents before assessing the significance of the similarities between both works. The similarities suggest not only that Beethoven developed his variation technique under the influence of Neefe’s variation works in general, but that the Dittersdorf Variations appear to have given him the opportunity to pay a musical tribute to his teacher as he prepared to leave the city of his birth for his new life in Vienna.
The form of theme and variations occupies a central position in Beethoven’s development as a composer, and is discernible throughout his life either as part of multi-movement works or as independent compositions. The use of slow variations in many of his sets was significant for Beethoven, as these carry structural and artistic implications. This chapter investigates how Beethoven used slow variations and where they appear, and raises questions concerning originality and plausible influences. Though Haydn’s influence on Beethoven’s variations has been a much-debated topic, Mozart influenced Beethoven as much as Haydn, if not more, in variation sets. Beethoven’s approach to the form can in turn be traced in generations of later composers.
Although a whole book has been devoted to the subject of Beethoven and England (by Pamela Willetts, London, 1970), Beethoven’s relationship with Scotland and the Scots needs a much fuller exploration than has been achieved hitherto. The connections are many and substantial, ranging from Czerny’s suggestion that the initial inspiration for the Eroica Symphony was provided by the death of the Scottish General Abercromby in 1801 to an actual visit to Vienna in 1819 by John Smith of Glasgow, who met Beethoven and evidently brought back to Scotland five of his latest compositions. Between these dates Beethoven had expended much energy composing several dozen settings of Scottish melodies, and writing sets of variations on four of them – all at the request of George Thomson of Edinburgh. Beethoven’s knowledge of Scottish musical life was informed by fascinating details mentioned in Thomson’s letters. His understanding of Scottish music, however, derived directly from the melodies he was sent. These melodies much impressed him, and he penetrated deep into the heart of their character in his settings. Instead of trying to amend the unconventionality of the melodies, he drew out their musical implications in his accompaniments, preludes, postludes and variations, using drones or modal elements where appropriate, as this chapter demonstrates. Consequently he was able to evoke something of the spirit of Scotland and Scottish music in his settings, as was recognised by German reviewers of his collection of Scottish songs Op. 108.
Beethoven’s String Quintet Op.104, an arrangement of his Piano Trio Op. 1 No. 3, was prompted by what had been delivered by a certain Mr Kaufmann, whose identity is shrouded in mystery. Today it is widely acknowledged that Kaufmann’s now lost version affected Beethoven’s Op. 104 significantly. Beethoven allegedly had a half-hearted attitude towards his quintet, and he allowed errors to infiltrate, mistakes by Kaufmann bespeaking incompetence, incorrectness and clumsiness. This chapter calls these assumptions into question. It seeks to rehabilitate the quintet as an uncontrived, undiluted and unadulterated Beethoven work, on the basis of an investigation of a primary source (the überprüfte Abschrift preserved in Berlin, the text of which is accepted to contain Kaufmann’s version, heavily corrected by Beethoven), in combination with considerations concerning Beethoven’s peremptory, almost swaggering affirmations of authenticity and ownership, and the fact that he awarded the work a separate opus number. The Abschrift text, it is argued, is Beethoven’s own, and not Kaufmann’s. The chapter further scrutinizes Beethoven’s circumstances at the time of the quintet’s gestation (summer 1817) and gives thought to the work’s reception history. Additional material is supplied with regard to Kaufmann’s (possible) identity.
Although much has been written about nineteenth-century Beethoven reception in England and the figures who promoted his works, attention has largely focused on London. In comparison, very little attention has been given to Manchester and in particular the significant contribution of Charles Hallé. Perhaps best known for establishing the first professional orchestra in England, Hallé was also a celebrated pianist and a Beethoven champion. He gave the first known complete Beethoven piano sonata cycle (a feat he repeated on several occasions) at a time when a significant proportion of Beethoven’s oeuvre still caused bewilderment and confusion, and through his judicious concert programming he systematically increased awareness of Beethoven’s larger works, helping to establish their popular appeal. This chapter explores Hallé’s admiration for Beethoven through accounts in letters, biographies and contemporary newspapers, and in so doing reveals the considerable knowledge he acquired of the composer by tracing his encounters with those who had known Beethoven personally. It is perhaps no coincidence that Hallé’s performances were often regarded by critics as coming closest to the original spirit of the composer, and examination of his editions (published by Chappell and Forsyth) and the exercises he created to aid pianists in learning the sonatas and other solo piano works provide fascinating insights into the performance practices and pianism which gave rise to this reputation, confirming that his contribution to Beethoven studies has yet to be fully uncovered.
Beethoven begins Concerto No. 4 in G major with the solo piano announcing the opening theme as p dolce. The piano continues to have a prominent position before the thematic material of the concerto, as can be noted through the frequent presence of expressive word cues in the score (for example, dolce and espressivo). These word cues assist in maintaining the pastoral mood, which appears in the opening theme, and serve to highlight the depth of pathos the piano soloist can achieve in subsequent transformations of tutti themes. This chapter offers a close reading of these word cues throughout the concerto through a hermeneutic approach. This method also elaborates on the relevance of Beethoven’s Erard piano in the compositional process. Further comments are made on contemporary performance practice to shed light on perplexing examples of word cues in the concerto with respect to the range of the theme they apply to or the thematic material itself. Expressive word cues in the score of the Fourth Piano Concerto are thus shown on one hand to offer a greater spectrum of expression for the piano soloist, often suggesting an evolution within the thematic material, and help form a more complex understanding of the pastoral genre; on the other hand, the expressive word cues for the orchestral instruments in the third movement reveal the significance of specific thematic fragments for the movement as a whole.