Handel's Messiah

Performed by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus

December 13, 2003

The challenge with most modern productions of The Messiah is achieving the balance between instruments, soloists and chorus. Handel's original production was a tight ensemble work. The massed choruses and full orchestras pose a danger of overwhelming the soloists. Itzhak Perlman conducted for balance and drama, showing great sensitivity to the way each instrument and voice must shine forth at the proper time. His signals were fun to watch, now
muting the players for a soloist, now calling for dramatic thunder from the chorus. He seemed aware that The Messiah does not so much tell the story of the Life of Christ as dwell on its implications and he drew out the introspective side of the music..

In many ways, the chorus has the juiciest and most dramatic passages. The St. Louis Symphony Chorus sounded as if these demanding polyphonic pyrotechnics were like a walk in Forest Park. I wonder, however if something couldn't be done about the chairs they were using. Whenever the chorus rose or sat down, the steel legs of their chairs resonated against the stage and the music had to pause, breaking the flow of the work somewhat.

Regrettably, the tenor soloist was not in voice. Robert Breault showed great intensity, fire and a deep understanding and love for the work. But I suspect that age is flattening the
tops of his notes and that his voice is past its prime.

Kevin Deas, the bass, had to overcome an interruption in the performance. Due to the inclement weather, a large mob of latecomers was seated after the first tenor aria and
following chorus. David Daniels, seated next to Conductor Perlman, was watching the audience keenly while waiting to sing his alto part. He leaned over to the conductor who, seated with his back to the audience and unable to rise without picking up his crutches, could not tell what the source of the disruption was. Perlman wisely stopped to allow people to get settled. On Deas fell the responsibility of regaining the momentum. Fortunately, his rich voice is truly extraordinary, "shaking the heavens and the earth" and providing the perfect foil to the alto aria that follows.

Daniels, who in addition to his perfect "boy soprano" voice, possesses the soul of a showman. Seeming pleased by the now full auditorium, he launched into the aria "But who
may abide the day of His coming..." without reference to his songbook, holding it as a prop but singing directly to his audience. Daniels is probably the leading interpreter of Handel currently performing. His relaxed, confident performance throughout the program reinforced
this.

Heidi Grant Murphy, the soprano, was another delight. Her voice is exceptionally mellow, high with no trace of shrillness. Here is one soprano that Handel would not have wished to
throw out a window. Her duet with Daniels was brilliantly done, drawing all the tenderness from the words and music.

By contrast, the tenor/alto duet (O death, where is thy sting?) that comes near the end was almost perfunctory. The tenor would not look at his co-performer and their voices failed to mesh. The unfortunate contrast between Mr. Daniels radiant countertenor and Mr. Breault's tenor was the weakest link in an otherwise strong structure. Since this was closely followed by Ms Murphy's rendering of "If God be for us..." the damage was slight.

It occurred to me that the custom of standing for the Hallelujah Chorus is the Baroque equivalent of the seventh inning stretch. No one really knows how this got started, as it is
uncertain when King George could actually have heard it performed. But it is a sensible custom, allowing the audience some respite from their chairs. This performance put a proper and sensible emphasis on all the parts of the work. The Hallelujah Chorus is most impressive in context. What followed built upon that energy and came to conclusion, not to anticlimax.