I am
not quite sure how Acis fits into the
Festival’s theme of ‘Behind the Mask,’ unless
it is the mask of the Pastoral, but no matter
– this was the composer’s most popular work
during his lifetime, and it has never been
out of the repertoire. Ivor Bolton was to
have conducted on this occasion, but he was
ill and so Nicholas Cleobury stepped in at
short notice to direct a mostly lively, enjoyable
performance in which the best of the singing
definitely came from the left – that is, the
relatively small parts of Damon and Polyphemus.
Cleobury’s direction was understandably a
little muted, and it took the orchestra some
time to settle down: the same was true of
the chorus, with its apt name – no voices
could sound more English, in both the most
and least flattering senses, in that the purity
and crystalline diction of the Oxbridge sound
(the group was originally formed from Cambridge
choral scholars who wanted to stay together)
is blended with a quality for which an appropriate
word does not really exist, the best approximation
being ‘snotty.’
Of course,
the choral music here does tend towards the
complacent: whilst the protagonists agonize
over their passions and neglect their rural
tasks, those smoothies in the chorus assure
us that all is well even if poor old Acis
has had his head caved in and subsequently
become a piddling brook – but hey! all’s well,
at least bone-dry Sicily will get a bit of
irrigation – what a way to cool one’s passions.
Our hero was sung by the eminent Paul Agnew,
a singer I very much admire but who does not,
or at least did not on this occasion, have
the vocal agility or sheer heft for this quite
taxing role. ‘Love in her Eyes’ is a genuinely
challenging piece, and even though Cleobury
gave him plenty of help by maintaining a gentle
rather than tortuous pace, Agnew struggled
with the more florid parts of the music. ‘Love
Sounds Th’Alarm’ fared better, perhaps because
it’s not so taxing even though it looks on
paper as though it would be. Nevertheless,
this singer always presents the music with
devoted skill, perfect diction and a tone
so sweet that his shepherd still commands
attention, even though on this occasion I
think that a shepherdess might well have been
tempted to go for old Polyphemus in the end.
Alan
Ewing has all you need for the role of the
Handelian buffo bass, and he knows it: his
Polyphemus was just the right side of blustering,
and you actually had some sympathy for those
cack-handed attempts at flattery in which
each simile is somehow not quite right, ‘O
ruddier than the cherry’ being the perfect
example. ‘I rage’ was positively thunderous
– quite a performance. James Gilchrist’s Damon
was equally commanding, his rational advice
offered to the hapless hero in the sweetest
tones – ‘Would you gain the tender creature’
was beautifully sung, providing an object
lesson in the genuine Handelian tenor style
as it has been developed over the past two
decades.
Sophie
Daneman has been highly praised and she is
an experienced Galatea, but on this occasion
I found her disappointing. There are some
things which some critics and other listeners
can overlook in a singer (for example, the
very prominent baritone who has, to my ears,
a wide, wobbling vibrato, the existence of
which is categorically denied by some) and
in this case, this lovely soprano has, to
my ears, an irritating lisp which affects
her delivery – maybe she has just had some
recent dental work, however. Her stage presence
is perfect – she communicates with an audience
in such an open, friendly way and she presents
the music with such commitment that I hate
to carp about this one point, but it is relevant
to me since it prevents her singing from being
ideal. ‘Hush, Ye Pretty warbling Quire’ was
sung with directness, although I think ‘warbling’
should have a fluid trill rather than a break,
and ‘Heart, the seat of soft Delight’ was
well performed but affected by the vocal production,
sounding nasal when it ought to sound sweet.
Acis
is always worth hearing, even if some
of the performers are not at their best: the
characters may come from the rigidly conventional
world of the Pastoral, their fates may be
sad, but they still live and breathe in our
sympathies thanks to Handel’s glorious music.
Melanie
Eskenazi
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