Category: Arts

REVIEW: Berliner Philharmoniker

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

After delivering a phenomenal concert on November 23, the Berliner Philharmoniker returned the next afternoon for one final, brilliant performance featuring the Bruckner Symphony No. 5 in B-Flat Major. In contrast to the dreamy ambiance of the previous program, on November 24, the Bruckner Symphony highlighted another dimension of the artistry of the Berliner Philharmoniker: their impeccable technique and coordination.

All genres of music use Major and/or minor keys. Music written in a Major key tends to be upbeat and joyful, making the Bruckner Fifth Symphony more solemn than I expected. Unlike his other symphonies, the first movement began with a slow, peaceful introduction. It featured pizzicato—the plucking of strings—from the basses before turning into sudden, powerful chords from the whole ensemble. This exchange of conflicting textures and dynamics continued until the end, developing a complexity that was initially difficult to grasp. Bruckner was often inspired to compose by his strong religious faith, a possible explanation to why I found it challenging to digest because I am neither religious nor familiar with cathedral music.

Because of the next movement, however, I gained a better understanding of the piece. Building upon the thematic and artistic foundation set by the first movement, the slower adagio tempo of the second allowed me to engage more with the music. The pizzicato passages, which demand impeccable synchronization between each musician, added a light and fun texture that peeked out of the rest of the ensemble. Meanwhile, the quick and repetitive sixteenth notes from the violins added a ticklish quality. They played at the perfect volume to support the winds and decorate their melodic lines. The wind and string parts twirled together toward the climax, which was my favorite part of the second movement when the brass blared the repeating theme while the strings played ascending scales. 

The third movement introduced a faster, more energetic tempo, continuing the symphony’s dance-like quality. This lively beat carried into the finale, where everything came together. The finale brought back themes from the first movement. Other phrases developed over the second and third movements felt much more tangible before intertwining with a new motif. With every musician pouring their heart and soul into their part, the interweaving melodies, harmonies, and textures built up to a triumphant conclusion. The ending embodied the brightness of the Major key, creating a lasting impression.

It was hard to imagine how the Berliner Philharmoniker could match the previous night’s performance, yet they succeeded by showcasing a completely different facet of their skills. What sets the Berliner Philharmoniker apart is their ability to convey a message to the listener, whether it’s the composer’s vision, the conductor’s interpretation, or something unique to the audience. Their playing forms a narrative, making the music feel alive, and I can’t wait for the chance to see them perform again in the future. After experiencing this weekend of concerts, I’ve realized that classical music is something that must be lived and breathed in person to fully appreciate its beauty. It was an honor to witness one of the world’s leading orchestras in their 12th and 13th appearances at Hill Auditorium.



REVIEW: Berliner Philharmoniker with Benjamin Beilman, Violin

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On November 23, Hill Auditorium was brimming with excited classical music lovers, and even President Santa Ono was in the audience. It was finally the night of the much-anticipated concert that had sold out months in advance. Under the baton of Kirill Petrenko, the Berlin Philharmoniker, alongside soloist Benjamin Beilman, delivered a masterful performance of Rachmaninoff’s The Isle of the Dead, Korngold’s Violin Concerto in D Major, and Dvořák’s Seventh Symphony.

Rachmaninoff’s The Isle of the Dead is a symphonic poem inspired by Arnold Böcklin’s painting Die Toteninsel. Böcklin intended his painting to evoke dreams, a quality that Rachmaninoff’s composition certainly achieved. The orchestra’s interpretation captured the audience’s attention with its heavy emotion and power. The dynamics ringing throughout the auditorium felt like crashing waves, while the layered harmonies added a sense of delicate chaos. However, when I looked up the painting, I found that the energetic, determined melodies of The Isle of the Dead largely clashed with the somber mood and muted colors of Böcklin’s work. Later, I discovered that Rachmaninoff had been inspired by a black-and-white reproduction of the painting, which allowed him greater creative freedom.

Next was Korngold’s Violin Concerto in D Major, my favorite—and I dare to assume, many people’s favorite—part of the night. Fascinatingly, Benjamin Beilman grew up in Ann Arbor and attended Community High School. He won first place at the Montreal International Music Competition in 2010, received the Avery Fisher Career Grant in 2012, has played with many major orchestras worldwide, and is one of the youngest artists ever appointed to the faculty of the Curtis Institute of Music. 

When I attend concerts, I often find myself amazed by a soloist’s technique, but this time I was in awe of how much fun Beilman made playing the violin look. Rather than feeling like a performance on stage, it felt like watching a film with headphones on—which makes sense, considering Korngold was an extremely successful opera composer who also played a major role in shaping early movie scores. At times, the softer passages in the music painted serene fields of flowers; at others, Beilman’s tone felt tangible, as if I were sipping rich, melted chocolate. 

 

 

The second movement, “Romanze,” was particularly moving. The opening, with its gentle and tender chords from the winds in the background complemented by the dreamy violin melody, perfectly captured the sound of falling in love—exciting and mesmerizing. Meanwhile, the closing melody, built from odd intervals, reflected the more complex side of love—confusing yet irresistibly tantalizing. 

The final piece, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7, brought me back to Earth with its tumultuous and unexpected notes. The themes in this symphony didn’t paint vivid landscapes like those in The Isle of the Dead, but each phrase unfolded as if it were a page in a storybook. It was a piece that required a commanding and charismatic conductor to maintain its passionate energy—keeping it controlled yet never subdued—and to harness its power to blend the unexpected turns in the music into lyrical phrases. The third movement, “Scherzo,” was vivacious, its rhythm inspired by the Czech folk dance furiant.

By the end of the night, the Berliner Philharmoniker had established itself as my favorite orchestra. After delivering an enchanting, surreal, and healing performance that would convert even the worst classical music skeptic, the audience went wild—I can’t remember the last time I heard more wholehearted applause. Not to be overdramatic, but Benjamin Beilman’s performance of the Korngold Violin Concerto reminded me of how important classical music is to humanity. Combined with the Berliner Philharmoniker’s mastery, It was a night I will never forget, and I felt extremely lucky to have that experience.

REVIEW: Hypnotize Your Mind

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December nights have a way of making you crave something extraordinary, and walking into Kochoff Hall last Monday for “Hypnotize Your Mind” felt like just the thing I needed. The event featured the hypnotist Michael C. Anthony, a name that immediately piqued my curiosity. I’ve always been skeptical about hypnotism—was it just a gimmick or could it really pull you into another state of being? I couldn’t resist finding out for myself.

The room buzzed with anticipation, an energy that was both infectious and slightly nerve-wracking. I found a seat near the back, hoping to observe quietly. When Anthony stepped onto the stage, his presence was magnetic. His humor and charm felt like a warm invitation, putting the audience instantly at ease—myself included. His ability to establish rapport with a diverse audience demonstrated his seasoned expertise.

Then came the moment of truth: the call for volunteers. Hands shot up across the room, and I couldn’t help but admire the courage of those who stepped forward. Watching them walk to the stage, I felt a mix of envy and apprehension. What would it feel like to surrender “control” so completely? Anthony’s voice, steady and calming, worked its magic as he guided the volunteers into a trance-like state. Their faces softened, their expressions subtly shifting as if they’d crossed into another realm. It was an astonishing display of how suggestion and trust could shape perception.

Image By Zaynab Oozeer

What followed was a series of scenes that were as entertaining as they were surreal. Volunteers became actors in a spontaneous and unscripted play, dancing to music only they could hear or reacting to imagined scenarios with remarkable sincerity. Anthony’s timing and adaptability shone through as he orchestrated these moments, skillfully maintaining both humor and control. It was clear that this wasn’t just about the volunteers but about his ability to shape their actions into a cohesive performance.

One moment stood out: a volunteer, previously rather shy, suddenly danced like no one was watching. It was hilarious and oddly inspiring. Afterward, I spoke with them. “It’s hard to describe,” they said. “It felt like I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t question it. It was fun, honestly.” Their reaction underscored the deeply participatory and transformative nature of the performance.

While the humor and spectacle were undeniable, what impressed me most was Anthony’s ability to balance entertainment with genuine human connection. Hypnotism, in his hands, felt akin to improvisational theater, where the participants were both the medium and the message. His skill in reading people and crafting an engaging narrative revealed a depth of artistry that extended beyond mere showmanship.

That said, the show occasionally leaned into predictable tropes of hypnotism—the exaggerated reactions and clichéd scenarios that risked feeling repetitive. While these moments elicited laughter, I found myself wondering how the performance might evolve with more inventive or unconventional scenarios.

By the end of the night, my skepticism hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had shifted. Hypnotism might not fit neatly into a definition of art, but it’s undeniably compelling. It’s about trust, connection, and maybe even a little magic. Leaving Kochoff Hall, I couldn’t help but smile, grateful for the chance to see the human mind in a whole new light. Anthony’s performance left me pondering not just the nature of hypnotism, but the ways in which we all navigate suggestion and belief in our everyday lives.

REVIEW: John Proctor Is the Villain

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On the night of November 21st, my friend and I walked out of the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre in a passionate discussion about the SMTD performance of John Proctor Is the Villain, a comedy-drama written by Kimberly Belflower. Going in, I was intrigued by the play’s premise and curious about how it would intertwine the themes of The Crucible—a play written by U-M grad Arthur Miller—with contemporary issues.

John Proctor Is the Villain takes place at Helen County High, the only high school in a small town in Georgia. Set in 2018, when the #MeToo movement on social media gained attention, the story follows a group of high school juniors during their spring semester (coincidentally, I was also a junior in high school then). Most scenes occur in the classroom of Carter Smith, a young, charismatic, and popular teacher. Although Mr. Smith’s class is small, his students embody the archetypes of nerdy, sporty, chic, and emo characters you would expect to find in a larger high school. As Mr. Smith and his students read The Crucible, they begin to discuss John Proctor, who, despite being an adulterer, enjoys a good reputation and is praised as a hero. At the same time, a group of girls formed a club to explore what feminism exactly means and how to be a feminist. 

Though it starts lightheartedly, this production dives headfirst into heavy themes, including racist and sexist language, depictions of violence, and abusive relationships. At its core, the play is a commentary on sexual assault, highlighting how it remains a pervasive issue that is too often dismissed or ignored. As the plot thickens, the shifting dynamics reveal the profound disparities and emotional toll that sexual assault takes on both victims and those connected to them. The play explores a range of complex emotions—confusion, disbelief, embarrassment, anger, sadness, and more—all of which feel raw and deeply human. As I watched from the audience, the character development prompted me to reflect on my past relationships, experiences, and vulnerabilities.

The actors’ accurate portrayals of these complexities made the performance even more impactful and thought-provoking. Their depiction of messy teenage friendships—fraught with reluctance and miscommunication—felt incredibly realistic. Through desperate and hesitant tones in their voices and insecure body language, they authentically captured the essence of adolescence. Student actor Hugh Finnigan embodied Mr. Smith’s charismatic persona so convincingly that, from the beginning, I gravitated toward his character. His confidence and mannerisms fondly reminded me of my favorite high school teachers.

The production’s minimal set design—consisting solely of school desks and a blackboard—underscored the idea that no environment, no matter how safe or familiar it seems, is immune to the threat of sexual assault and harassment. The costumes and makeup reflected each character’s stereotypical personality, but by the end of the play, teach us not to judge a book by its cover. Finally, the dance-break transitions between scenes became a powerful visual metaphor for resilience, symbolizing the characters’ capacity to reclaim power and persevere.

John Proctor Is the Villain delivered a surreal and eye-opening experience, culminating in an ending that felt chilling, uplifting, shocking, and awe-inspiring all at once. Moments that initially seemed surface-level gained significant weight as the characters displayed profound growth and emotional depth. By analyzing their behavior, reactions, and capacity for trust, the play sheds light on how people navigate societal pressures and personal challenges.

As my friend and I left the theatre, we found ourselves discussing how societal norms shape the assumptions we make about people in our everyday lives and how dangerous these assumptions can be in perpetuating harmful power structures. This production left an indelible impression, and I would highly recommend it to anyone seeking a thoughtful and emotionally resonant theatrical experience.



REVIEW: Hänsel und Gretel

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

From November 14th – 17th, students from SMTD’s Department of Voice & Opera presented Hänsel und Gretel, a whimsical and comical opera inspired by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale. On opening night, I walked in expecting a darker, more traditional retelling. Having recently read the original story for my English class, the haunting imagery and fast-paced plot were fresh in my mind. What I witnessed instead was a playful and modern reinterpretation that completely reimagined the tale I thought I knew. 

The opera began with Hansel and Gretel doing chores at home while horsing around. At this point, there was no dialogue; instead, the introduction was driven entirely by the music, with decorative trills and glissandos setting the tone. This lack of narration effectively established the scene, suggesting their actions were simply part of their daily routine. What stood out to me was the siblings’ dynamic, which differed from the original story. In this version, Gretel had more depth and independence. For instance, she had some attitude, and the two siblings squabbled early on. By the end, their tumultuous relationship evolved into a partnership where they worked together to overcome their struggles, making their character arcs feel more rewarding.

I was truly amazed by the quality of the music, particularly Hansel and Gretel’s vocals. Their voices projected clearly, and their vibrato and dynamics added a compelling layer to the storytelling. The pit orchestra, which was noticeably larger than those in musicals I’ve seen, played a pivotal role. Their synchronization with the actors heightened the emotional impact of the scenes, particularly in the introduction, and their technical consistency throughout the two-hour performance was impressive. 

The set designs were among my favorite aspects of the production, particularly in Act II and Act III, when the visuals became increasingly surreal. The TVs hanging around the stage were a quirky and creative touch that enhanced the eerie atmosphere of the woods and the chaotic energy of the Witch’s house. By displaying images like green mist and blinding lights, they played a crucial role in establishing the mood of each scene. The Witch’s house, made entirely of brightly branded cereal boxes, was both unexpected and amusing, providing a modern twist on the traditional gingerbread aesthetic.

 

 

The Witch was undoubtedly my favorite character. From the moment she appeared on stage, I was completely captivated by her eccentric and flamboyant costume. It was a riot of bright colors and peculiar accessories—such as eating utensils—and cleverly mirrored her chaotic personality and desire to consume the children. Her absurd and unpredictable presence made her scenes incredibly fun to watch, and I found myself smiling throughout. The audience shared my feelings, as frequent laughter echoed during her antics. 

 

 

Overall, this was an enjoyable performance. The chaotic and playful nature of the plot kept me engaged, especially when the production deviated from the original tale in surprising ways. The opera felt like a magical adventure that breathed new life into a familiar fairy tale. However, since the entire performance was sung in German, I often had to look away from the stage to read the subtitles, which detracted slightly from my experience but didn’t overshadow the production’s many strengths. I highly recommend this production to anyone who enjoys fairy tales and is open to seeing them reimagined in unexpected and creative ways.

REVIEW: As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow – The Play

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On December 6th, at 5 PM, the Ford Collaboratory in the Mardigian Library became a portal to war-torn Syria through the powerful stage adaptation of Zoulfa Katouh’s As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow. The story, which follows Salama Kassab’s heartbreaking journey through the Syrian civil war, was beautifully translated into a theatrical experience

The play centered on Salama (played by Leila Haddad in a standout performance), a former pharmacy student turned volunteer medic. Leila captureed Salama’s internal struggle with raw, unflinching authenticity. Her portrayal of guilt, hope, and despair—especially in moments of silence—felt like a masterclass in restraint. Haddad’s ability to convey emotion, especially in the quieter, more introspective moments, was mesmerizing.

Image Courtesy: Leila Ghaznavi

However, where the play truly shone was in its staging. Director Amira Shafiq, President of the Theater club, created an intimate, immersive experience that makes the audience feel as though they’re walking alongside Salama in the ruins of Homs. The use of minimalist sets striked a balance between realism and surrealism. The lighting design deserved special mention, with its stark contrasts between the warm glow of past memories and the cold, unforgiving present.

One of the play’s most intriguing choices was the personification of Khawf, Salama’s manifestation of fear. Actor Omar Darwish gave Khawf a chilling yet oddly sympathetic presence. His interactions with Salama—at times antagonistic, at times comforting—perfectly captured the inner turmoil of living through unimaginable horrors. These scenes, while impactful, occasionally slowed the pacing slightly, but they were essential in depicting her mental and emotional state.

The dialogue, much of it drawn directly from the book, was both poetic and raw, though some lines feel better suited to the page than the stage. While some of Salama’s reflections felt a bit expository when spoken aloud, they still carried the emotional weight of her journey.

“Perhaps this could have been remedied with more physical storytelling or additional silences to let the weight of the words sink in,” added Alexis Mohammed, a student at the University of Michigan Dearborn.

The supporting cast also delivered heartfelt performances. Yasmin Agha brought warmth and strength to the role of Layla, Salama’s pregnant best friend, though her limited stage time left her arc feeling somewhat underexplored. Karim Al-Rashed, as Salama’s brother Sami, offered moments of levity and hope, with his final scene leaving the audience in stunned silence.

One of the play’s most powerful moments was the climactic hospital scene. The chaos of wounded civilians flooding in, enhanced by overlapping shouts, frantic movement, and a pulsing soundscape, left both Salama and the audience breathless. It was a visceral reminder of the relentless toll of war.

That said, the play did struggle to capture some of the novel’s nuance, especially in depicting Salama’s quieter moments of healing and growth. The ending, while emotionally charged, felt slightly rushed, leaving the audience including myself, yearning for a deeper exploration of Salama’s transformation.

As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow is a story that demands to be told, and this stage adaptation did justice to its poignant message. With stellar performances, innovative staging, and a deeply personal tone, the December 6th performance was more than a play—it was a call to bear witness, to empathize, and to remember.