It was bold thinking by the Barbican and William Christie to programme Handel's oratorio Belshazzar at the height of the annual Messiah season. In spite of its dramatic Babylonian subject matter, vividly trenchant words by Messiah's librettist Charles Jennens, and the fact that it was written just two years after the most famous oratorio of the lot, Belshazzar has long been eclipsed by its sibling. It deserves much better.
The two works may both have a chorus on Hallelujah, but they could hardly be more different in other respects. Belshazzar reflects as much upon human folly as on faith, while its treatment of war and empire in what is now Iraq strikes a sombrely contemporary chord. And where Messiah ends in peals of glory and affirmation, Belshazzar's masterstroke is the lovely and humble gentleness of its closing Amen, which in Christie's hands was a deeply moving experience.
But it was also hard won. The persistent high-minded reflectiveness of Belshazzar can be tough going, particularly in the first act, and Christie's rather stolid approach to tempos made few concessions here. The richly toned Iestyn Davies as the prophet Daniel stood out among the soloists, while Caitlin Hulcup sang openly and freshly as Cyrus, but Jonathan Lemalu as the vengeful Gobrias was unfocused. Welcome variety arrived with the more flesh and blood Babylonians, who have lusty choruses of a strikingly English flavour, and Allan Clayton was a direct and well projected Belshazzar.
The oratorio reaches its finest moments in act two and in the final duets and choruses. The turning point, appropriately, is the chilling and fragmented appearance of the moving hand during the Babylonian feasting. Christie roused his Les Arts Florissants players to brilliant playing here, while Rosemary Joshua as the tragic Nitocris was at her most rewarding. Like Handel's score, she saved the best until last.
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