Handel’s Saul was director Barrie Kosky’s first outing at Glyndebourne Festival ten years ago, and the production received wide acclaim at the time. It’s on its second revival (with a tour following the original), and a decade on, it’s looking as fresh as a daisy, with Donna Stirrup as revival director. The opening reveals at the start of both parts drew gasps and applause, and its daring combination of anarchic comedy, spectacle and the grotesque clearly still has the ability to wow audiences. Kosky pulls together a mostly coherent narrative thread and theatrical flow from Handel’s oratorio, and the result is surprisingly action-packed. Yet Kosky is not afraid of silence, and there are frequent pauses at the end of arias, which add to the underlying tension that conflicts with the surface frothiness. Another trick up their sleeve is Joachim Klein’s skillful lighting, with scenes emerging slowly from darkness, so we gradually realise we’re seeing Goliath’s decapitated head, or the bodies of Saul and Jonathan after battle.
Remarkably, the two leads from 2015, Iestyn Davies (David) and Christopher Purves (Saul) are back, and both were on fine form at the opening performance – if anything, even more powerful and commanding than I remember from their first outing. Purves’ physical fitness is also impressive, managing to run in circles around the whole stage at one point, before delivering faultlessly controlled and effortless singing. But it is his portrayal of Saul’s mental unravelling that was so impressive, turning from comedic moments, such as being slowly attacked by dismembered hands (think The Addams Family’s Thing times six), into disturbing, dark torment, and even horrifically grotesque (suckling on the Witch of Endor taking us into The League of Gentleman territory). It’s a testament to Purves’ execution of Kosky’s vision here that this is all so convincing. Whilst the full chorus were praising David, Saul attempted to shift focus by gesturing frantically to the audience that they should be paying attention to him and ignoring what’s going on behind. Such is Purves’ command that he almost succeeded, and it was hard not to focus on his wretched struggles, whatever riotous mayhem was going on elsewhere on the stage. In contrast, Davies brought a steely calm to the role of David, with only a few lapses of control allowed, most significantly when he succumbs to a brief moment of passion with Jonathan. Right from his extended first entry on a gloriously blossoming "O", it was clear that his voice and presence matched that of Purves, and this calm confidence was the perfect foil to Saul’s paranoid, dare one say Trumpian, fragility. Davies’ agility in the relatively few opportunities for virtuosic display were certainly effortless, but his tender, steady comforting of Saul and his passionate duet with Michal were emotional highlights.
Sarah Brady’s Merab was highly convincing, managing well the shift from snobbish rejection of David to heartfelt fear for his safety, and her Part 2 aria delivered lying amongst the field of candles was a very touching moment. In contrast, Sorayi Mafi’s Michal focused more on the comedic in her obsession with David, with bubbling Part 1 effervescence mellowing to steadier tone for Part 2’s weightier drama. Linard Vrielink’s Jonathan was a suitably nervy presence, portraying his struggles of loyalty well, his light tenor delivering clarity throughout. Liam Bonthrone’s amalgam of the four minor roles including Abner and the High Priest gave the various declamations with authority, and Ru Charlesworth’s Witch of Endor was just disturbing – in a good way!
The chorus were on tremendous form, and there is a lot for them to do, not just singing. They clambered up and down from high tables, played dead on the battlefield, rising up briefly like zombies, and dramatically delivered choruses from the very front of the stage at full throttle. But they also danced - a lot. At this production’s first outing, the quirky, modern dance moves were a surprising, almost jarring addition to the Georgian-inspired colourful costumes (beautifully designed by Katrin Lea Tag). However, such anachronistic dance elements have become de rigueur, and they now feel more at ease in the fizzy world that Kosky has created. The chorus’ choreography was tight, and the additional dancers provided great moments of comedic counterpoint (as well as, presumably, those "Thing" hands). Jonathan Cohen conducted the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment with tight energy throughout, and moments for harp, organ and carillon shone through (hats off to the spinning organist at the opening of Part 2).
All in all, this production is a visual and musical delight, and it hasn’t lost its impact and energetic spark in the intervening ten years. With another almost sold out run, there’s still plenty of life in this show – I look forward to seeing Purves and Davies return in another decade.
