Messiah
A Jewel in a Perfect Setting
Messiah
by George Frideric Handel, text by Charles Jennens
Wild Arts at Sinfonia, Smith Square, Westminster, 9th December and on tour until 18th December
Review by Patrick Shorrock
It is hard to think of a more suitable setting for Handel’s Messiah than St John’s, Smith Square (now rebranded as Sinfonia Smith Square, but still as gorgeously baroque as ever). Built in the early 18th Century, this a church where the white ornateness of the Corinthian columns forms a pleasing contrast with the symmetry of the interior (plain in its neatness, to use Milton’s phrase) and the glorious wackiness of its four towers. It has been a delightful concert venue since 1969 and needs to be less of a well-kept secret.
This is definitely a lot more than a concert performance, although it might be going a bit far to describe it as fully staged. That is definitely not a problem, when this oratorio is not really conducive to full staging, but the sheer commitment, intensity, and focus that Wild Arts lavish on it bring it to full dramatic life. This means no scores for the singers and thus continuous engagement with both music and audience, particularly when these eight excellent singers also function as the chorus and freely move around the building in a way that is effective and never arbitrary. Their movement gives every impression of being spontaneous but was far too well judged to be anything of the kind when it can be done so well with an ensemble of soloists, I’m not really sure that I want to hear Messiah done with a choir anymore. I had the same reaction hearing the Dunedin Consort doing Bach’s Mass in B Minor with one voice to a part at the Wigmore Hall.
Orlando Jopling directs a period instrument band with a couple of splendid baroque trumpets. His tempi are generally fleet and natural, although he slows down unexpectedly for the wonderful final series of Amens. I understand the need for gravitas here, but miss the racing exhilaration that this climax often provides. The vocal ornamentation is splendidly stylish, although some of it seems to happen in the A sections of the Da Capo (with some B sections discreetly cut). The fugal intensity of And with his Stripes is magnificently realised. The aching discords of Since by Man came Death are stunning, with the singers split between the transepts. These singers – admirable as they are individually – achieve something wonderful when all together.
We have splendid renditions of How beautiful are the Feet and I Know that my Redeemer Liveth from pure-voiced Sofia Kirwan-Baez and Joanna Songi who provides a wonderful range of tone colour, as well as a wonderfully exuberant The Trumpet will Sound from Timothy Nelson. Kate Symonds-Joy has a wonderful clean sounding mezzo in He Was Despised that also contrasts well with Martha Jones, with fine further tenor support from Guy Elliott.
Tom Morris had worked with the singers to produce a minimal staging that is admirably unfussy, quietly reinforcing what the work is all about: God coming to earth, participating in human suffering and death, and triumphantly restoring humanity to life. The splendidly voiced bass Edward Hawkins speaks a few introductory words before the overture to encourage us to contemplate the relevance of the words we shall be hearing sung for our own times. Then tenor Harry Jacques starts proceedings with an attention-grabbing Comfort Ye. Figures are placed in a crib, as the story of the birth of Jesus is told. In Part Two, the crib is dismantled and replaced with a cross and single figure. Finally at the very end, the cross is removed during the final Amen and triumphantly brandished. The singers and orchestra wear their own ordinary clothes rather than concert dress. The feel is very much more like an act of worship than a concert, with applause confined to before the interval and at the very end, with a standing ovation.
Patrick Shorrock, December 2025
Photography by Steve Gregson
Mark Aspen 