Noteworthy

There is a persistent myth that the “serious” concert hall and the “glittering” movie screen occupy different universes. But for Erich Wolfgang Korngold, the composer who fled Nazi-occupied Austria to become the architect of the Hollywood sound, those borders were essentially invisible. In the Toronto Symphony Orchestra’s upcoming program, María Dueñas Plays Korngold (June 4–7), this intersection takes centre stage, revealing how the scores that heighten our heartbeats in the dark of a movie theatre actually live within the very bones of the classical tradition.

The evening centres on a work that is a master class in recycling with genius. Korngold’s Violin Concerto pulls its primary themes directly from his Oscar-winning film scores, including Another Dawn and The Prince and the Pauper. It is a piece that demands a specific kind of soloist—one who can navigate both its technical “shimmer” and its deep, narrative soul. Spanish virtuoso María Dueñas, who captivated audiences during the TSO’s 2023 tour to Carnegie Hall, returns to the stage with a sensitivity she likens to vocal performance. “When I play it, I definitely think more like a singer,” Dueñas explains. “Every phrase wants to breathe, as if it were a voice finding its words. The most simple line can say more than a hundred notes ever could.”

This sense of lyrical storytelling carries a poignant weight when considering Korngold’s life. Forced into exile by the annexation of Austria, his move to Hollywood was both a survival tactic and a profound reinvention. Dueñas finds a deep personal resonance in his journey, noting that one can feel a constant tension in the music between a nostalgia for his lost Vienna and the discovery of a new, American voice. “Korngold’s story is heartbreaking and inspiring all at once,” she says. “As an artist today, you need to create a space in between that can be fertile and just your own.”

For Dueñas, the concerto is an intricately crafted challenge that requires constant colour changes to mirror those shifting worlds. “It demands communication,” she notes, pointing to the dense, complex textures that hide beneath the “Hollywood glow.” To her, the work erases the hierarchy between art forms: “Music and cinema have always belonged to the same emotional universe. I am particularly against labels and would love listeners to simply feel the story.”

The program further explores this cinematic DNA through the lens of Bernard Herrmann, the man responsible for the most famous “screech” in film history. Psycho: A Narrative for String Orchestra serves as a stark, monochromatic counterpoint to Korngold’s lushness. By using only string instruments—traditionally the messengers of warmth and romance—to create a score of unprecedented psychological terror, Herrmann proved that the orchestra could be a visceral, modern force.

Showcased along with the works by these 20th-century titans is a TSO Commission and World Première from Canadian composer Bekah Simms. Their piece, Nostalgie, uses the lush language of Golden–Age Hollywood as a filter to explore the “gummy,” psychedelic distortion of time. Simms, who matured in the Toronto arts scene before moving to Glasgow, describes the work as a reflection on the hazy period following the birth of their son. While the piece features the big, sweeping orchestral moments one might expect from a film score, they are warped through an experimental lens. “I couldn’t deny myself the big orchestral moment,” Simms says, “but I wanted the reveal that we are a listener in an artificial environment—seeing something through a screen or a bit of smoke.”

Under the baton of Gustavo Gimeno, the program eventually breaks through this cinematic fog and into the brilliant Mediterranean light of Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 4 “Italian”. If the first half of the evening dives into the complexities of memory and the silver screen, Mendelssohn provides a grounded, exuberant finale. Inspired by the landscape and art of his 1830 travels, the symphony is a celebration of pure rhythmic vitality. From the “black-and-white” tension of Hitchcock’s shower scene to the “Technicolor” radiance of Korngold’s concerto, the evening serves as a reminder that, whether on screen or on stage, the music we remember most is the music that refuses to stay within its borders.

Jonathan Dekel is a Toronto-based journalist. His work has appeared in The Globe and Mail, National Post, Toronto Star, and on CBC.