As a veteran browser of second-hand bookshops, I grew used to seeing piles of faded old Novello vocal scores of Handel oratorios in their familiar maroon and beige covers, emblazoned with those abrupt biblical titles – Jeptha, Esther, Samson, Israel in Egypt – titles both quaint and faintly forbidding. They never seemed to shift, an apparently unloved legacy of Victorian choral societies and Georgian piety. And yet here we are in 2025 celebrating a revival of Barry Kossky’s astonishing production of Saul as one of the hottest operatic tickets of the year.
How can this be?
Much of the credit lies with Glyndebourne itself which led the way in the 1990s with its groundbreaking production of Theodora, Handel’s own favourite among his late works. Gradually we learned to appreciate that while he may have switched from Italian opera to English oratorio in the 1730s as a result of the success of John Gay’s vernacular The Beggar’s Opera, his commitment to drama did not falter for a moment. The key point was that the Church of England did not permit staged versions of biblical narratives; and so the concert hall became the format perforce. The modern revelation was that with this stipulation long gone, if you stripped off the pious shellac of performance tradition, then operatic scenarios of compelling power were waiting to leap up on stage fully formed.
Certainly after seeing this work at Glyndebourne it is impossible to see it as anything other than a stage work that ranks as one of the composer’s very best. As Barry Kossky says in the video trailer – it has something of everything – jealousy, envy and derangement on the part of Saul himself; heroic virtue and tender devotion on the part of David; different forms of committed passion from Saul’s three children, a sepulchral succubus of a witch, and above all one pulsating shape-shifting chorus after another, as the Israelites commentate and participate in the action, just as in a Greek tragedy.
The particular marvel of the production is the way in which the grandeur and solemnity of the sumptuous scenes of collective action blend with moments of tenderness and intimacy, and touches of bizarrely breathtaking surrealism. Playfulness and plangency, joyfulness and juddering dislocation. It would take an essay, not a review, to explain and describe how all the elements cohere; but it really is a triumph of opera as Wagner wanted it to be – ‘a total work of art’. Sets, costumes, lighting, and choreography all showcase vocal and orchestral performances of rare force and refinement in which precise command of period style is melded – unusually – with a remarkable degree of emotional naturalism.
This last feature is a notable new addition. Revival director Donna Stirrup has inserted some elements of contemporary dialogue and an intensity of expression at the expense of sheer voal beauty that raise the emotional stakes considerably. This is particularly the case in Christopher Purves’ reprise of the title role. His acting is astonishing in its variety and intensity, offering a bi-polar portrait, both disconcerting and pitiful. As David, Iestyn Davies also picked up on where he left off a decade ago. While his lower range has lost some of its projection, his upper register has a bell-like clarity and lustrous purity: his performance of ‘O Lord, whose mercies numberless’ was heard in tense, concentrated silence, as was the exquisite improvisatory harp solo that followed.
This is a work of many short numbers, many briskly strophic, with fewer and shorter da capo repeats. The supporting cast therefore have to make their mark with immediacy and verve. Sarah Brady certainly does so as Merab, a scold in the first half with scorhing coloratura to match, and a stoic pillar of grief in the second. Soraya Mafi starts more slowly as Michal, but by the end is singing radiantly. Linard Vrielink is a sweet-toned tenor counterpart to Davies in the role of Jonathan and there is a notable contribution from Liam Bonthrone in a court jester role amalgamated out of a number of minor parts. Ru Charlesworth completes the solo cast as the Witch of Endor with prosthetics more than equal to the weirdness of Handel’s music.
With substantial orchestral interludes, and a broader orchestral palate than usual, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment has a lot to do, and Jonathan Cohen in the pit keeps things moving admirably while ensuring the singers are fully supported. The choreography by Otto Pichler is both tasteful and cheeky, and all credit to the redoubtable Glyndebourne Chorus for entering into its demands while retaining their vocal poise and crisp counterpoint. The designs of lighting director Joachim Klein are particularly effective in the second half which is ably puncctuated despite the dominance of mourning black in backdrop and costumes. The sets by Katrin Lea Tag are both overpoweringly grand and ruthlessly austere as needed.
It is hard to do justice to the many-faceted delights of this production other than to say it is truly an unmissable distillation of Handel’s humane insights and a supremely memorable embodiment of the best of what opera can offer to its audiences when all the moving parts cohere as one.
Composer: Georg Frideric Handel
Libretto: Charles Jennens
Director: Barry Kossky
Conductor: Jonathan Cohen
Cast includes: Liam Bonthrone, Sarah Brady, Iestyn Davies, Soraya Mafi, Christopher Purves, Linard Vrielink
Until 24 July 2025
4 hrs 10 mins, including dining interval
Photo Credit: Ash