Scintillated by Saul: How a Handel oratorio became the star of the operatic season
Even though Richard had repeatedly urged that it was one of the most exciting productions he’d ever been involved in, I wasn’t quite chomping at the bit to see the premier of Saul, a seventeenth-century English oratorio freely adapted from the biblical book of Samuel that Glyndebourne daringly staged as part of their 2015 season. How foolish I had been. Richard gave his dress rehearsal comps to his mother and sister and they came back raving about it, and then everyone from Rupert Christiansen to my grandparents proclaimed what incredible work it was, and I knew I’d missed something special. Smuggly saying ‘I told you so’, Richard forgave my former dismissal and, magically, managed to get me a ticket to a performance in early August. I donned my evening dress and hopped on the coach that winds through glorious Sussex countryside from Lewes station to the hallowed lawns of Glyndebourne. The only snag? My ticket was for a seat tucked right up in the far left of the upper circle. Now usually this wouldn’t have been an issue, opera can be enjoyed for the sound alone, but I knew that this production was exceedingly visual. The opera gods, knowing that I’m not particularly fond of Handel oratorio, were clearly set to change my mind as they smiled on me and, somehow, I managed to nab a returned ticket at the first bell. Thanks to the wonderful Jules I exchanged my original seat for the crème de la crème: the middle of the second row of the stalls. Jules let me know I could thank the rather small swiss gentleman in a white dinner jacket sat to my left who's wife had been unable to attend the performance at the last minute. I introduced myself and expressed my gratitude, whilst trying to keep my excitement in check – it seemed rude to be so happy about his wife’s absence. And then it began.
The stage, steeply raked and covered in a black crumb, was filled with half a table covered in a huge feast complete with giant swans, peacocks, boars, fruit and flowers. All the characters had white powdered faces, ridiculous wigs, glittering lips, and vivid C18th costumes, the women in silk damask dresses and the men in breeches. Singing was combined with energetic dancing, even featuring a 6-strong dance troupe. Everything in the design and choreography was extreme and opulent, almost grotesque. And I loved it. I loved it because nothing was gratuitous. Everything had a purpose, a thought, a motivation, and it was an astonishing synthesis of music, dance, set, lighting, costumes, and drama – a dramatic and energetic and sumptuous experience in a baroque-on-acid, bacchanal way. The whole thing had echoes of the 80s cult film Amadeus.
Richard didn’t know about the fortuitous seat swap and is also aware of my lack of enthusiasm for Handel oratorio, so when he came to join me in the interval – make up and wig removed and period dress replaced by black tie – he asked reluctantly if I was enjoying it. I was very happy to reply that I was, in fact, having an incredible operatic experience and that, yes, as hard as it was to believe, I was enjoying Handel. I’d seen the light.
The second half opened with the entirely black stage covered in hundreds of candles and a delicious meta-reference to Handel himself, rising from centre stage, frantically playing the organ solo at a whirling console. Bonkers. But it was this interplay of extravagance with poignancy that was stunning.The change from technicolour to monochrome and eventual black visually reproduced the mourning of Israel and reflected Saul's descent from sanity to madness.
The gentleman I was sat next too, who was quite a purist, didn't enjoy how Barrie Kosky had amped up the homosexual relationship between David and Jonathan and neither did he like how Saul's envy was transformed into a nightmarish descent into actual madness and confusion. But I thought the adaptation made the piece come alive and that Saul's madness was portrayed so well it was touchingly emotional. I saw Henry Waddington rather than Christopher Purves but I thought his interpretation was convincing and powerful. The delicacy of Saul’s mental state was played with such beguiling vulnerability and contrasted with his powerful physical presence, strength and anger.
Iestyn Davies, was an intelligent and sophisticated performer, his ethereal countertenor somehow at odds with his masculinity but lending an air of unattainability to David.
Benjamin Hulett’s jester/fool creature, created for this production by weaving together the almost random arias and interjections into a complete role, was exceptionally theatrical and unsettling, somehow removed from, yet in control of the unfolding drama. But it is the chorus who are the heart and backbone of the production. Their energy, commitment and vitality what made the show.
It was one of the best productions I've seen at Glyndebourne, maybe even in general. However you can and whenever you can, see it. You’ll be amazed.
