Glyndebourne is no stranger to Handel, nor to the Royal Albert Hall, with the company’s annual visit to the Proms. But this is the first time, I think, that its autumn season has seen an extension into the festivities of Christmas with an appearance at that venue.
Despite the latter’s size, this was a performance of essentially Baroque proportions and character that Handel would have recognised, in its original scoring of strings alone, with bassoon among the organ and harpsichord continuo, and trumpets in the handful of numbers required, though admittedly the ensemble was amplified. That gave a slight emphasis to the Glyndebourne Sinfonia’s cellos and double basses, illuminating the contrapuntal features which they have to bring at times, and other sonorities such as trills in the Overture, and a reedy laying into some of the bagpipe-like drones of the ’pastoral symphony’. Amplification certainly lent a gravitas to Aidan Oliver’s generally brisk performance, sometimes unyielding in its keenness to proceed from one musical phrase to the next, though not compromising the lithe rhythms (often in Baroque dance forms) of various numbers nor solemn rhetorical declamation by the Glyndebourne Chorus.
The Chorus dug into the narrative drama of Part Two, however. If ‘Surely he hath borne’ was a little abrupt and lightweight, the quick succession of mainly choral numbers thereafter which recount the events of the Crucifixion gathered together a brusque alacrity, reminiscent of the more obviously dramatic retelling of the Bach Passions, with the vicious crowds hurling their abuse (above all, here, in the sarcastic despatches of “let him deliver him” in ‘He trusted in God’). An efficient rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus brought the audience to its feet, while a resounding account of ‘Worthy is the lamb’ and the final ‘Amen’ made a dignified conclusion to the whole, after the usual cuts in Part Three.
The pairs of female and male soloists divided neatly between the more devotional, reflective character of the former, compared with the extrovert delivery of the latter. Where Soraya Mafi sang with a studied, congenial brilliance, and Claire Barnett-Jones with the reassuring tonal weight of a true alto, James Way opened the Oratorio in a forthright, not sentimental, account of ‘Comfort ye’, maintaining that disposition alongside James Platt’s stentorian way with the bass role, not unlike John Tomlinson.
With Oliver’s interpretation, this offered a freshness to this perennial work, stripping back accrued layers of its vast performance tradition, and sought the leaner core of Handel’s original inspiration. It put me in mind to revisit this Christmas that uplifting, if somewhat dated, film about how the work came into being, with Wilfrid Lawson as the composer, The Great Mr. Handel.
