This concert marked the opening 
          of the 19th Lufthansa Festival of Baroque Music, this year’s 
          theme being ‘Between Intimacy and Splendour,’ and you could hardly hope 
          for an evening which might better exemplify both qualities: St. John’s 
          is the epitome of baroque splendour in terms of surroundings yet its 
          atmosphere and acoustic are famously intimate, the ‘English Concert’ 
          has always made it a priority to foster familiarity with its audiences 
          in terms of performance practice and attitude, and finally Handel’s 
          work, written when he was just 23, is the perfect blend of dramatic 
          splendour and showiness with tender intimacy. No one could advocate 
          the status of a ‘Messiah’ for ‘Resurrezione,’ but given the commitment 
          of a musical director who clearly adores it, and a team of soloists 
          who sang it as though there could be no argument about its greatness, 
          it was hard not to wonder why one so rarely hears it.
        
        Opera having been banned from 
          Rome by papal edict some 30 years before Handel came to the city, a 
          tradition of lavish presentations of oratorio had unsurprisingly grown 
          up, and when Handel was commissioned to compose an Easter Sunday Oratorio 
          for 1708, he was given positively luxurious conditions to facilitate 
          the work, including the then rarity of three whole rehearsals as well 
          as a vastly complex setting with a sumptuous, candelabra-and-cherub 
          theme and a huge painted backdrop. The narrative to be presented in 
          these surroundings was of course of the highest spiritual import, but 
          in keeping with the operatic nature of oratorio at the time, the characters 
          are not so much vocal soloists as protagonists in a drama, enacting 
          rather than reporting on the events of Easter Sunday.
        
        The first part depicts the argument 
          between Heaven and Hell, or Good and Evil, in the forms of an Angel 
          and Lucifer, with the serene confidence of the Angel being contrasted 
          with the almost comical blustering of the Fiend. As Blake said, referring 
          to ‘Paradise Lost,’ ‘The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote 
          of Angels and God, and at Liberty when of Devils & Hell, is because 
          he was a true poet and of the Devil’s party without knowing it.’ Rebellion 
          and passion are of course more likely to engage than mere confidence, 
          and Handel’s music for Lucifer does everything to promote those qualities, 
          especially in the dramatic sweep of the range required, and Alan Ewing 
          did his best to present a swaggering, self-absorbed character: he was 
          dramatically successful but his voice, though intrinsically a fine Handelian 
          basso, is somewhat muffled in character and lacking in bite at crucial 
          moments. 
        
        Carolyn Sampson was ideally cast 
          as the Angel, her tone inherently pure and her technique immaculate 
          despite a rather muted beginning when she did not quite make all her 
          words tell. She sang the lovely air ‘D’amor fù consiglio’ with 
          elegant phrasing and sense of line, and her triumphant scene at the 
          close of the first part, ‘Uscite pur, uscite’ was done with great commitment, 
          the pure Angel now becoming a genuinely fiery presence. I was less impressed 
          with the other soprano, Veronica Cangemi, who sang the part of Mary 
          Magdalene. As with Alan Ewing, there was no doubt as to her dramatic 
          flair and assurance – she threw herself into the part, at times almost 
          too much so, and made every conflict extremely colourful, but her voice 
          is not quite as vibrant as her personality. Her finest moment was the 
          lovely lament ‘Notte, notte funesta’ which was sung with great fervour 
          as well as delicacy, and she was exceptionally vivid in recitative. 
          
        
        Recitative was also the strong 
          point of the mezzo-soprano Emma Curtis, whose Mary Cleophas was distinguished 
          by her lovely, burnished tone and serene manner: she avowed her readiness 
          to follow Mary Magdalene at ‘Pronta a seguirti’ with such passion that 
          I was a little disappointed by the following aria, but she was still 
          a discovery for me, genuine mezzos with a truly balanced middle register 
          and a secure low range being far thinner on the ground than one might 
          imagine, and she was a treasure in the ensembles.
        
        Handel wrote some of his most 
          beautiful but also most exposed music for the tenor part of St. John, 
          superbly taken here by John Mark Ainsley who has few, if any equals 
          in this repertoire. In the Evangelist’s two arias in Part One, the first 
          as Felix Warnock says ‘thrillingly virtuoso’ and the second full of 
          sweetness, Ainsley achieved that rare feat of combining perfect control 
          in very ornate passages with beauty of tone and tenderness of expression, 
          and as for his diction, anyone hearing him for the first time would 
          surely find it hard to believe that his first language is English and 
          not Italian. In Part Two, ‘Ecco il sol’ was sung with great attention 
          to detail – ‘Smalta i prati, i colli indora’ actually suggesting the 
          movement of the sun across the landscape, and ‘Caro Figlio’ not only 
          confidently articulated but beautifully tender without recourse to sentimentality, 
          and when sung like this bringing to mind the much later but emotionally 
          similar ‘Waft Her, Angels’ from ‘Jephtha.’ 
        
        Confident articulation and tenderness 
          were also very much in evidence in the orchestra, despite a rocky beginning 
          occasioned by some intrusive noise (an aside, but St. John’s is one 
          of the worst London venues for this, with much rattling, rustling and 
          St. Vitus dance-like behaviour from the audience – frustrated, perhaps, 
          by their inability to get any coffee after dinner, the requirement being 
          that one queues up once for one’s meal, then queues again for interval 
          drinks, then again for coffee) which left a couple of instruments slightly 
          shaky for a while. Pinnock and the English Concert present the music 
          with real spirit, whether in tutti or in the many passages where individuals 
          echo or support the voices, the lovely solo flute in ‘Così la 
          tortorella’ being a prime example, and the trumpets (Mark Bennett and 
          Michael Harrison) giving their all at those characteristically Handelian 
          blazes of sound. 
        
        This auspicious beginning to the 
          Lufthansa Festival was rapturously received by a near-capacity audience, 
          and one can only delight in programming like this, which introduces 
          so many people to great works which have yet to be a part of everyone’s 
          musical life: particularly enticing future concerts in the Festival 
          include a performance of ‘L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato’ by 
          the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra under Ivor Bolton on June 19th, 
          and an evening of Purcell and Bach in Westminster Abbey with Emma Kirkby 
          among the soloists – warmly recommended.
        
         
        Melanie Eskenazi