Media Reviews
TSO's Messiah a toe-tapping modern take on a hallowed masterpiece
Ken Winters
The Globe and Mail, December 18, 2010
Handel's Messiah
Orchestrated and conducted by Sir Andrew Davis
The Toronto Symphony Orchestra and Toronto Mendelssohn Choir
At Roy Thomson Hall in Toronto on Thursday
Sir Andrew Davis's orchestral tarting-up of Handel's Messiah, which premiered Thursday night at Toronto's Roy Thomson Hall, is nothing if not sprightly.
The clotted orchestral fabrics and ponderous speeds of the old Victorian approach are banished. The blatant vulgarities of the 1959 Goosens-Beecham makeover are neatly sidestepped. Da capo repeats are largely eschewed. And most of Davis's re-orchestrations are not only light-footed but, in their way, illuminating.
The result is a frisky, fresh-faced Messiah which should recommend itself to symphonic organizations and choral societies well beyond the Toronto Symphony Orchestra and Mendelssohn Choir who breathed such life into it Thursday.
A few brief amendments will undoubtedly improve it. The first of these should be to drop the drab, toneless darabuka (a small Middle Eastern drum), that defaces to no purpose the opening of the bass soloist's first utterance, the recitative "Thus saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts."
Then there was a frankly peculiar harmonic ambiguity at the opening of the alto recitative "Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened." And I did think the vibraphone Sugar Plum effects from Nutcracker and the rude trombone "baa" that sounded like a lost, frustrated ram from the sheep flock in Don Quixote were out of place in the crisply sung chorus "All we like sheep."
But these were trifles in the larger canvas of Davis's scoring which was often both subtle and eloquent.
Particularly telling are his inventive uses of the woodwind choir and the acute dramatic timing of his unleashings of the brass and the organ. His extended percussion battery, so unpromising in prospect, is mostly used sparingly and with real delicacy, giving colour and point without bombastic intrusion. He also makes lovely use of the harp and of the other strings.
He even newly dramatizes the great series of Passion choruses that open Part Two, framing the most poignant and anguished "Surely, He hath born our griefs" that I have heard in Toronto, though I did think his timpani proclaimed too militaristic a fugue in the grieving "And with His stripes we are healed," and those frivolities from Tchaikovsky and Strauss marred the otherwise superb "All we like sheep."
The performances for the most part were quite exceptional: choir and orchestra glorious, soloists outstanding with one or two exceptions.
Mezzo-soprano Jill Grove is a plain singer with clear enunciation but not much lustre in her sound. Davis had sadly chosen to omit the middle section and the da capo return of her main aria, "He was despised," greatly abbreviating it, though her voice was at its most comfortable here.
Winnipeg-born soprano Andriana Churchman was a discovery. Her clear, free sound accommodated with rare aplomb the clarion call of "Rejoice greatly," the exhilarating series of recitatives beginning with "There were shepherds abiding in the field," the grace of "Come unto me" and "How beautiful are the feet," and the ringing conviction of "I know that my Redeemer liveth."
English tenor Toby Spence gave us splendidly the full variety of his demanding role in the work, culminating in a deeply felt "Thy rebuke hath broken His heart" and a thrilling "Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron."
The distinctive, virile bass-baritone of John Relyea gorgeously fulfilled all of his exacting assignments save the penultimate one, the scorching aria "Why do the nations so furiously rage together" which Davis's extremely fast tempo put beyond the reach of his coloratura skills. Relyea held on by the skin of his teeth, but we could hear his humiliation. It was clear the tempo was the conductor's, not the singer's.
Such incidental drawbacks notwithstanding, this was a plausible, toe-tapping modern take on a hallowed masterpiece. I think it's a keeper.
