It is rare to experience a classical music performance that is at once theater, concert and, above all, a tremendously moving spiritual drama. The Berlin Philharmonic, solo singers and chorus, working with director Peter Sellars, succeeded in recreating the theatrical performance of the St Matthew Passion originated in Berlin’s Philharmonie in New York’s cavernous Park Avenue Armory, as part of Lincoln Center’s White Light Festival.
A small stage is placed in the center of the hall, with about 15 steeply raked rows of seats surrounding it; the arrangement affords an excellent vantage point from almost every seat. The orchestra players, all clad in black, are divided into two groups, as are the similarly clad chorus members. The first half also features the Boys Choir whose members mostly sing from high above the stage, moving energetically at times among the audience. Due to the vastness of the hall, singers are miked but very discreetly. Sir Simon Rattle conducts mostly from his podium in front of one of the orchestra, while occasionally directing the musical action in front of the other orchestra. When soloists are accompanied by solo musicians, Rattle often watches and observes without losing his keen concentration.
As the audience slowly files into the theater, they are confronted by a singular presence on the stage, that of the tenor Mark Padmore, with a few wooden boxes which serve as only props. Padmore sits alone on one of the boxes, his posture indicating tremendous sadness and dejection even before the music begins. His quiet presence sets the tone of the performance which is a contemplation on human existence with its misery, cruelty, compassion and salvation. Bach’s musical masterpiece is given a fresh and unexpected perspective that sometimes seems to transcend its original religious context, while staying true to its musical foundation. This is a superb example of a classic being given a modern interpretation that is universal in its message while depicting a specific event in the Bible.
The anticipation among the audience was so high that it was almost a relief when the musicians took their place and the familiar Bach’s music finally began. The music alternates seamlessly from chorus to chorale to recitative, then back to chorus, interspersed with arias sung by soloists enacting such roles as Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Judas, Peter and Pontius Pilate. There is considerable acting, both vocally and physically, by soloists and chorus, the latter acting both as commentators on the action as well as active participants, sometimes as angry mob, or as witness to the brutality inflicted upon Jesus. At the end of the performance, there is no relief but quiet resignation. As chorus members surround the soloists and huddle around a long box that could be Jesus’ coffin, some seem genuinely affected by the grief of the music they have sung all evening. The last few pieces of music are performed with the entire hall in almost total darkness with only the stage lit up. The audience was respectful of the long silence after the music ceased; only when Rattle lowered his raised arms did the applause begin. Just as the end of the first and last acts of Wagner’s opera Parsifal, I would have preferred the hushed and respectful silence to have endured much longer.