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EARLY MUSIC REVIEW
Handel's Acis, Light Yet Inventive
September 21, 2001
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By Michael Zwiebach
The pastoral masque Acis and Galatea (1717) was among George Frederick Handel's best known compositions during his lifetime, and the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra's stylish performance under conductor Nicholas McGegan on Friday night in Herbst Theater showed why. Acis exhibits Handel's exceptional gifts for melody, dramatic characterization and musical scene painting. While lacking the weight and power of the later oratorios that are Philharmonia's regular season-opening fare, it has their inventive instrumentation and colorful choruses.
Taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses, the masque tells the story of Galatea, a sea
nymph in love with the shepherd Acis. When Galatea rejects the love of the
giant Polyphemus, the monster kills Acis by crushing him with a boulder.
Galatea consoles herself by metamorphosing Acis into a running fountain. The
masque shows us both sides of a classic pastoral tale, the idyllic
setting, with shepherds and shepherdesses gathered to celebrate nature and
love, and then the fragility of that existence.
Handel's invention carries us along through the first part, when little is
happening in the story. The music leaps from the opening chorus to a busily figured aria
for Galatea, with sopranino recorder obbligato, through a delicate serenade in
siciliano rhythm for Acis, to the dash of the duet "Happy, happy we," a
joyful gigue.
McGegan and the Philharmonia, experienced Handelians that they are, were in
superb form on Friday night. Every small motive was clearly defined and
shaped, the strings played with incisive rhythm and sweet tone, while Hanneke
van Proosdij on sopranino recorder and Marc Schachman and Gonzalo Ruiz on
oboe shone in Handel's intricate woodwind writing.
The second part of the work began with Bruce Lamott's well-trained Philharmonia Chorale darkening the scene with an impressive chorus in imitative texture. One line in particular could be a motto of the whole pastoral genre: "No joy shall last." The chorus' second part introduces Polyphemus with a vivid musical depiction of his giant strides (fortissimo chords followed by stretches of silence). Polyphemus may not be a comic villain, but there was more than a glint of humor in Daniel Lichti's interpretation, including his abrupt arrival onstage. Music contributed to his comic impression too, as in the aria, "O ruddier than the cherry," where the giant's stumbling vocal line is doubled by the orchestra with sopranino recorder added on. The masque's greatest music occurs after Acis' death. A mourning chorus led to a choral dialogue with Galatea, which is enveloped in a beautiful oboe solo, subtly played by Schachman. Galatea's final aria then became incorporated into the closing chorus as the nymph's signature water music brought the piece to a flowing, contemplative close. Earlier, at Philharmonia's season opening concert on September 15, I heard Christine Brandes give a fiery reading of that magnificent final scene. Nancy Argenta, the Galatea of Friday's and succeeding performances, is a much different singer. She has a slighter vibrato, but she can also whiten her voice to give it an instrumental, "early musick" sound, which enables her to blend with the oboes when she wishes. She is stylistically faultless, and certainly communicates warmth. In the final scene, however, she played a nymph whose loss was inward; she was sad rather than torn apart. That reading made the scene unidimensional.
As Acis, Iain Paton equaled Argenta's tonal beauty, singing ornaments and melismas with great precision and without audible aspirants, and showing emotional understanding of the role. His "Love sounds th' alarm," was an excellent contrast to the sighing lover of the first part, and he gave it tremendous rhythmic vitality and full-bodied tone. James Oxley sang the role of Damon, another shepherd, and was quite winning in his arias. Daniel Lichti was in high spirits as Polyphemus, his bass having enough amplitude to make a convincing giant. The Philharmonia Chorale sounded a little bass-heavy at points, but was admirably attentive and cohesive. They contributed outstanding singing to the final scene, full of dynamic contrast and varied phrasing. It was their evening as much as anybody's. (Michael Zwiebach holds a Ph D in musicology from UC Berkeley, specializing in opera.) ©2001 Michael Zwiebach, all rights reserved |
