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ORATORIO REVIEW
Handel's "Solomon," A Landmark's Full-length Premiere
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By Joseph Spencer
While it may seem that Handel's major works have all been out and about for some time, just this past Saturday, the 12th, the great oratorio "Solomon" had what was probably its first full-length performance since its 1749 premiere. It happened in Berkeley, at the First Congregational Church to open the Philharmonia Baroque's eighteenth season, Nicholas McGegan conducting that orchestra, soloists and chorus. By the time the Philharmonia Baroque finishes its run of five "Solomon" performances on Saturday, the work will have received as many performances in the Bay Area as it did in the composer's lifetime.
This oratorio of impressive scale and scope dates from the composer's late creative period, which also produced "Susanna" and Theodora; both successfully performed and recorded by this conductor and orchestra. Yet Solomon is quite distinct from these -- a horse of another hue. Though Handel held his "Solomon" in high esteem, mid-eighteenth century London did not share his enthusiasm. Only three performances were mounted in 1749, while a 1758 revival, in much altered and reduced form, was presented but twice.
Characterized by the Handel authority Winton Dean as an "oratorio of pageantry and pomp," "Solomon" is happily is more than that. It is a landmark work that signals Handel's entry into his final great creative period The year 1749 also saw the premieres of both Music for the Royal Fireworks and "Messiah" in its first Foundling Hospital presentation that marked that great oratorio's entry into Britain's permanent pantheon of cultural treasures.
"Solomon' is in three acts, connected only by the title figure. In the first,
Solomon is portrayed in conjugal bliss with his bride, the Pharoah's daughter (no mention is made of his seven hundred other wives, or his three hundred concubines), in terms sufficiently sensual and explicit to have discomfited Victorian audiences. In the aria "Bless'd the day," the soprano Christine Brandes as Solomon's Queen mugs comically the lines "when I was led to ascend the nuptial bed," a humorous touch mirrored in Handel's gyrating bass lines. A scant moment later she is genuinely enraptured as she sings, "But completely bless'd the day, On my bosom as he lay, When he call'd my charms divine, Vowing only to be mine." The royal couple's amours are accompanied by musical celebrations of the glory of nature all around them. Solomon unveils for his bride the newly reconstructed Temple of David, and receives praise for his wisdom and power. The line "Thrice bless'd that wide, discerning king, who can each Passion tame," brought, I confess, more current events to mind.
The drama on which all else turns occurs in the second act that deals with the legendary Judgment of Solomon, in which two harlots claim to be mother of an infant. Solomon orders the baby cut in two and distributed to the claimants. While the false one cannot help gloating at her victory, the true mother puts the baby's welfare above her own. Thereupon Solomon voids the decision, the true mother is vindicated and the other sent away. The characterization of the Harlots by Brandes and soprano Dana Hanchard was vivid, the stark contrast of the two in appearance, demeanor and voice accentuating the drama.
Act Three presents the Visit of the Queen of Sheba, who surveys the king's
accomplishments and once more praises his wealth, power and wisdom. All
this praising gives ample opportunity for great pomp and circumstance.
Nowhere is there a hint of amatory funny business between Solomon and this
Queen. (though this was to be altered in the 1758 version.) Dana Hanchard
reappears as the Queen of Sheba, having changed not only her costume but
her persona, now a regal and exotic foreign dignitary.
Historically, critics have commented upon the uneven quality of music in
Solomon, advocating and condoning the excision of "dead wood."
Philharmonia's performance includes all the original numbers; I for one
welcome the opportunity to make my own evaluation, for better or worse.
In the event, there are clearly great numbers-- choruses, especially- that
overshadow others, inevitable in a work of some sixty-odd movements and three and a half hours duration. The chorus "Praise the Lord with harp and tongue!" seven or eight minutes before the end is the most monumental of the lot, and all that comes after does seem something of a postlude. Indeed Handel in his revision at the end of his life, did move this chorus to the end.
Solomon is scored for eight soloists, five of them in major roles specified for female voices. In this production however, the role of Solomon was well-sung by a countertenor, Daniel Taylor The substitution of that voice for the specified mezzo-soprano seems a good solution. Taylor's voice is a bit light for the power of this monarch, however, especially at the lower end of his register where I could imagine a big, imperious woman totally filling the bill. A similar criticism might be made of his acting endeavors, wherein he was quite outshone by the other soloists. Christine Brandes' singing of both Solomon's Queen and The First Harlot follows a precedent established in the 1749 premiere. Brandes has a commanding stage presence matched by a clear and flexible voice of impressive power as well as an evident impish humor that enlivens the production remarkably.
It would be hard to imagine better casting than Dana Hanchard as The Second
Harlot, and The Queen of Sheba. Her dark, lovely voice and winning stage
presence were key to the success of both the second and third acts.
Zadok the Priest was sung by Robert Breault with superior projection and
diction. Thomas Jones sang the part of the Levite with manic intensity,
and Scott Whitaker has a walk-on as the Attendant.
The large chorus is a collaboration between the Choir of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, and Philharmonia's own much-lauded Chorale. Together they comprise about forty eight singers, the members of the two groups being intermixed. Geoffrey A Webber and Bruce Lamott are the choral directors, respectively. This is a work of choruses, and this ensemble accomplishes their task with power, accuracy and verve. The choral forces were divided into two choruses, left and right. This arrangement lends a humorous effect for the chorus number "From the east unto the west," as the sense of the line is graphically illustrated by the movement of the sound, sometimes supported by the antiphonally placed winds, the trumpets in the east, the horns in the west.
Much is asked of the orchestra, perhaps the largest orchestra specified by
Handel to that time. While there is ample opportunity for rousing trumpets
and horns, there are passages of astonishing originality and subtlety as
well. In ‘Will the Sun forget to streak?' Handel specifies a sole oboe in
unison with all the flutes, rendering a novel wind texture of subtle delicacy and substance. Flutists Stephen Schultz and Mindy Rosenfeld, and oboist Marc Schachman put the sound together just right.
The famous Nightingale chorus ("May no rash intruder"), is a movement of haunting beauty, owing in some measure to the orchestral texture, the flutes floating the song of the nightingales above Steve Reich-like mini-figures in the strings. In Zadok's great aria, "Sacred raptures cheer my breast," wave upon wave of ecstatic sound washes over his words, "rushing tides of hallow'd zeal." Throughout, the twin bassoons lend their color, gloriously played by Marilyn Boenau and Marilyn Caruthers.
Nicholas McGegan has shown himself once again to be a master of Handel,
knowing his music inside-out and extracting amazing nuance from every
measure. (Perhaps had Handel had Nick in 1749,.....?) Moreover, McGegan
manages to convey three and a half hours of Handel to us without a moment's
delay, not a single pause for tuning (none apparently required!), not an
instant of boredom or fatigue. This is a conductor, musician and musicologist who knows his craft, top to bottom. He is Philharmonia's director, they are his orchestra. Together they are the best in the western world, hands down.
(Joseph Spencer is a longtime early music devotee, who divides his time
between being a merchant (The Musical Offering in Berkeley, an early
music CD store and cafe/bistro), a record producer (Wildboar Recordings and
others), and radio broadcaster (Chapel Court & Countryside, KKHI, San
Francisco, 9-11 Sunday mornings, also KKGO, Los Angeles, 7-9 am Sundays)
©1998 Joseph Spencer, all rights reserved
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