Anglicky in Olomouc

It Ain't Over Yet

It's a weekend to be Czech. Elections on Saturday – then a day off – National Day on Monday. I'll do each in turn.

Only a naïve political enthusiast still wet behind the ears would say that Czechs have been suffering election fever over the past few months. Indeed, it would need mature adults to recognise the term, and only then associating it primarily (and perhaps a little sanctimoniously at times) with the late Václav Havel. Receiving a unanimous vote to act as the Czech Republic's first president he was able to do that rare thing – forging political aspiration with moral rectitude. As such he achieved widespread acclaim and pride and used this political capital to turn the Republic away from the slough engendered by decades of Marxist-Leninist economics towards the more enlightened and almost liberal paths it had once trod before the terrible Nazis and Commies did their worst. And his reputation is safe, certainly as far as comparisons with his political successors are concerned.

Until June this year Prime Minister Petr Nečas enjoyed something of a fairly popular, if not glowing, mandate, that is until armed police raids discovered that he and his cronies were pocketing millions of dollars-worth of cash. His chief of staff and lover, the infamous Jana Nagyova, also used military intelligence to spy on his wife (they are now happily divorced). In his response he said, "I am personally convinced that I did not do anything dishonest and that my colleagues have not done anything dishonest either."

Well that's all right then. Let's forget the whole thing.

Except that the following coalition interim government under Jiří Rusnok, appointed by current and directly elected President Miloš Zeman, then lost a vote of confidence: hence the current messy and unclear elections.

Zeman himself is something of a controversial figure. Uncompromising and outspoken, he doesn't believe in climate change, is known to enjoy the company of extraordinarily dodgy blokes and is not keen on Muslims or gay people. Interests include settling down of an evening/afternoon/morning with a bottle or two of whatever is nearest. It is said he was pissed when attending the exhibition of the Czech crown jewels.

Zeman makes the other candidate for the recent presidential elections look, and I mean look, respectable, particularly Vladimir Franz, the only candidate to admit to having one tattoo – only it covers his entire body! Tsk – Czech academics, eh?

Given this high principled and clean-living line up, many Czechs may be forgiven for a touch of cynicism regarding the country's current political climate.

So, the election results are in: Bohuslav Sobotka, the leader of the party with the largest returns but short by 2% of a majority, said that Zeman should not interfere in the internal workings of his Czech Social Democrat Party after the party's chairman called for him to resign. The billionaire leader of the newly created second and opposing party, Andrej Babiš, has to decide how to play his cards. The communists in third place are probably now a spent force. They could help prop up the social democrats, but that is highly unlikely.

Altogether, Czech politics has experienced more than its share of corruption in high places, lying and conniving, assassinations and will now experience horse trading and back biting that will truly make the winter months as warm and charming as anything the Greeks and Italians are able to come up with.

And then there was Sunday. Ahhh... a nice relaxing day.

Monday was Czech national day, when all good Czeskies remember their independence from the dissolved Austro-Hungarian Empire after World War I. The newfangled Czechoslovakia under the philosophical guidance of the great Edvard Beneš united two peoples with a new and exciting idea of a Czechoslovak nationalism. This independence lasted, of course, until Hitler decided this democracy-loving Republic was too tempting a place not to invade. After the Nazis' defeat by Stalin's crushing military wave, the brave attempts by Czech nationalists to retain independence from greater powers was ultimately overpowered from within by uncompromising communists who then gave it all to the Soviets.

Sad times – tragic times. Another reformer and proponent for independence, Tomáš Masaryk, became first president of the new Czechoslovak republic. A local Moravian boy, his standing statue dominates the square outside the teacher training building at Palacký University where the Memsahib daily toils. So on the night of national day it is right and fitting that Czechs would pay homage to all things Czechish at this sacred national spot.

At the end of a quick dog walk we could hear music (not unusual round these here parts) and like the children of Hamelin followed its emanations whither it will. The crowds carried lanterns, well – at least the children did, and the whole scene was reminiscent of the lovely Chinese Mid-Autumn festival we used to celebrate in Hong Kong. In an informal ceremony, the band played, Czech soldiers in uniforms of yesteryear marched along, people stood about, muffled speeches were given and at the end a spectacular firework display wowed the crowd. It was all so very... casual.

Nobody carried flags (an enforced must during the communist era) and the general idea of Czech nationalism appeared gentle and unforced. Their identity's all in the language and the general unenthusiastic mood you see, and that, like the results of the greasy elections, is a work in progress...

Composers of Palacký University

"It's a free concert, at least it is for me!" said the Memsahib, beaming that her employment at the University provides such exciting perks. As a non-teaching-non-anything-really-Joe Publicky, I had to dig deep into my pocket to pay the exorbitant sum of Kč80 for the privilege – that's nearly £2.62/HK$31.36 in old money!

We thought we'd seen all there is to see at the Moravské Divadlo Olomouc (Moravian Theatre) on our last outing there to enjoy the classical 19th century warmth of Donizetti's Lucia de Lammermoor. That particular performance back in February had at first a touch of the am drams about it, but the mostly-septuagenarian audience appreciated a lively show that worked itself into a suitably Czech lather. But the Moravian Theatre has another excellent performance venue upstairs, the Reduta (redoubt in English) – a concert hall that has obviously had some money spent on it in the last few years as it is in tip-top condition for expertly produced quality concertyness. Proud Olomoucians in their ill-fitting black or grey Sunday bests, in restrained flowing evening wear or all out in mismatching, bulging tops and skirts are right to treat the venue with such respect.

This particular concert was to mark the occasion of the 440th anniversary of Palacký University. As part of the Olomouc Music Festival it comprised compositions of music professors at the University and proved an eye/ear-opener of the first degree. When one thinks of provincial towns (Olomouc is the Czech Republic’s 6^th largest town) one cannot help but feel that the standards are necessarily lower, that the expectations are more gentle and that the quality of production understandably less – misconceptions one and all. What followed was a concert of intellectual stimulation as good as that served up anywhere and by anyone and my Kč80 proved well spent.

First up, Concerto for two percussionists and orchestra – a lively two-movement piece by the late Pavel Čotek (1922-2005). Témbry (Timbres), the first movement comprised composery flouncing at a large collection of percussive instruments –vibraphones, glocks, timpani, tubular bells and a host of cowbells, drums, cymbals and triangles. The overall effect was, at first, of form over substance, of the sort of excited arrangement that exercises a composer's mind at night (with enough free rein). But then the patternization meted out by father and son percussionists, Ladislav Bilan Sr and Ladislav Bilan Jr, created a stronger form than I supposed achievable. The orchestral interventions and background added to overall weight and depth in much the same way as the stretched canvas is necessary for painted artistic endeavors, no matter how abstract. The second movement, Rytmy (Rhythms), perhaps carried the audience a little better, using more familiar rhythmic structures, but its dénouement cleverly brought the listener back to the staccato-esque 'pots and pans' beginning of the first movement. There may have been one or two formal clichés throughout, but the performers, conductor Petr Vronský and Moravian Philharmonic pulled it off with such panache that we were truly moved, more so at the appearance within the affectionate applause of the composer’s frail widow.

All change, please. From Vít Zouhar’s operatic pen came the next piece for the Moravian Phil, Ritorni, a modified form of a Philip Glass meets Vivaldi piece already premiered at other festivals. This premiere was of an arrangement for strings and harpsichord. Its gentle classically-resonant phrases flowed and repeated, flowed and repeated: it would make great music for a TV advertisement of some sort –grandiose without being inhuman– maybe for a high street bank… But perhaps I am unfair: it was, like the previous piece, accomplished and not without flair. At least the composer’s programme notes were relatively restrained, descriptive not prone to flowery hyperbole. Which is more than can be said for what occurred after the interval.

Intermissions usually involve the customary steam roll towards the bar, but this was the most unusual experience in that, outside a supermarket checkout, this was the first time I had seen Czechs form a queue – an orderly, first-come-first-served queue in the old fashioned sense. For the locals the provision of alcohol is clearly worth the queuing! Bypassing this gobsmacking novelty, we asked for two gin and tonics, to be told there was no tonic. Well aware of the grave toilety dangers of skulling interval beers, we opted for Fantas (haven’t had one in years) and to later have one-or-two pivos for the cobbled road. It is customary at any public venue to complain uproariously about the state of the gents, however, the Memsahib’s retch-inducing visit to the ladies powder room proved that many ladies are ladies in name only and the mellifluous lingering odours that emanate from their unwashed nether-parts testifies to the most un-ladylike of ablutional habits…

 

Marek Keprt, young(-ish) Olomoucan composer, pianist (see Youtube above) and teacher at the Department of Musicology at the Philosophical Faculty of the University, obviously trusted enough to be given free range in February and March of this year to come up with the four movement ČtverJho chořních dob that began the second half. And if you are given freedom then I suppose you should use it! Certainly Mr Keprt was unorthodox in his arrangement of the traditional orchestra and of instrument usage (noisy air blowing through brass, use of timpani sticks on open piano strings), of solo violins, violas and cellos glissily slippin’ and slidin’ about on their fretwork to find 'micro-intervals and minimalism’ and of a wailing soprano placed alone on the balcony all brought about a decidedly nonconformist, if not overall muddied, impression. But in truth it was not the interesting abstract music that bothered me so much as the programme notes thrown together by the man himself: “JasJho (BrightnessYoke). Jas jha (Brightness of the yoke)? Jho jasu (Yoke of brightness)? The perception of the brightness of the yoke (or the yoke of brightness?) Is suppressed, distorted, ever less conscious.” And so it goes on… simple questions and banal statements like so much teenagery philosophy – it’s just the sort of drivel that gets up my nose.

And so the evening concluded with Jan Vičar who, through a Fullbright/CIES scholar-in residency that enabled him to make his way through eight universities in the States, clearly enjoys his time as Professor at the Department of Musicology if the Philosophical Faculty here in Olomouc. Křik (Cry), his one-movement cantata from 1981 was written in anticipation of the birth of his first child and uses as libretto an anti-modernist poem of the same name by renowned poet Jiří Žáček. Incorporating an accomplished blend of orchestra, baritone and mixed choir, the end product became a conflagration of such astonishing power, intensity and complexity that at its conclusion the 5 trumpeters shook hands in relief. It's just as well that this concert was formally recorded – gotta get me a copy!

Rapturous applause at the end signified the recognition of music excellence, on the part of the composers, the conductor and the musicians. Provincial music may have a bit of a reputation, but that was certainly not in evidence on this night. Allowances were neither requested nor required: this performance could have occurred in the best venues of any of the major capital cities. With such a concert Olomouc, one-time home to Mozart and Mahler, can rightly hold its baroque musical head up!