An impressive revival.
A law in Georgian England prohibited the performance of operas during Lent. Handel responded with the English Oratorio, first with Esther and later with the Messiah which premiered in Dublin in 1742. Pinchgut Opera’s affinity for historically informed performance has led it to revive the original 1742 version, this time with a chorus of 12 soloists.
As with most French overtures of the period, the opening “Sinfony” has two parts. The first is marked “Grave”, and it was performed at a suitably slow pace, this time bedecked with sinuous improvised passages by Matthew Greco on violin. The B-section was as upbeat as modern audiences are used to.
With the first chorus, we immediately get the sense that this will be a lively performance. “And the glory of the Lord” was performed at a brisk tempo. The sopranos were the highlight.
Edward Grint’s bass aria “But who may abide” showcased his control and his impressive ability to negotiate difficult passages. The melismas accompanying “refiner’s fire” were noticeably different to the later version of the Messiah. Suffice it to say, they were somewhat blander, as was the case with the 1742 version of “Thou art gone up on high”.
The next bass aria was performed by Andrew O’Connor, who wowed the audience with his mastery of dynamic variety on the word “light”.
The Orchestra of the Antipodes again assumed centre-stage with the Pifa. It seems Erin Helyard made a point of accentuating the cellos. That is just as well. As with most rustic pastorales the highlight is always the earthy drone of the bass, redolent as it is of a hurdy-gurdy.
The showy aria “Rejoice greatly” was performed well by Miriam Allen. It was set at a lively dance pace and sung with many virtuosic embellishments.
The second part, which came after an interval, took a darker turn. The second chorus descends to one of the darkest keys – F minor – and we have many jarring chords in the soundworld of “grief”. Much like Bach’s Passions, the second part also assumes a more manic turn. We are equally in the soundworld of the hecklers, and of the bloodthirsty mob. So we have feverish tremolos with “the smiters”, and a powerful, almost exhortatory, recitative by Louis Hurley introducing the “He trusted in God” chorus.
That chorus was performed at break-neck speed. One can understand why. But it seemed to dilute the wickedness of the mob mentality which Handel strove to convey. The brutal chuckle of the semi-quavers on “would” was entirely lost at that pace. However, the frenetic pace worked wonders for “All we like sheep”, the mania in which has more than a tinge of the bacchanalian.
The 1742 version gave one of the most heart-rending arias to the soprano rather than the tenor – “They rebuke hath broken His heart”. Myriam Arbouz’s performance was the highlight of the evening. That is not least because of her emotional variety. The Arioso, Air and two accompagnati are mercurial. They capture each extremity of the emotional range in the space of a few minutes. Her performance was controlled, measured, never showy but always arresting. Her voice tended effortlessly to waft above the audience.
Freddy Shaw distinguished himself with a commanding performance of the difficult bass aria, “Why do the nations”, which was accompanied by the Orchestra at the top of their game.
The audience proved itself a nuisance when it stood up for the Hallelujah.
