“Christmas is not just cribs and tinsel!” Sir James MacMillan’s thoughts on the festive season absolutely underpin his Christmas Oratorio. First performed in Amsterdam in January 2021 as a radio broadcast due to the pandemic and to an audience in London that December, the work’s Scottish premiere has been keenly anticipated, MacMillan himself conducting the Royal Scottish National Orchestra and Chorus.
MacMillan’s writing has been moving from the fragmentary to the lyrical, but he retains a fiercely whetted edge jolting us straight back to the turbulent times of the Nativity and the Flight to Egypt from Herod’s brutal regime. The work is palindromic and in two parts, each bookended by an orchestral sinfonia, each with a central tableau of biblical text arranged for chorus with baritone and soprano soloists, St Matthew’s Magi in the first part, the beginning of St John’s Gospel in the second. Other choruses, apart from the last, are in liturgical Latin but, as in Britten’s War Requiem, MacMillan’s arias use poetry to allow us to step out to ponder a deeper reflection on the Christmas story, the beautifully thoughtful words of Robert Southwell, John Donne and John Milton lifting the work into new dimensions.
Celebrating the 180 years since it was assembled to perform The Messiah, the RSNO Chorus, superbly drilled by Stephen Doughty, provided the backbone to the work. MacMillan sets tricky challenges of mood changes and dense chunks of narrative Gospel, the choral writing taking unexpected twists and turns of light and shade from an exultant Hodie Christus natus est to a tender Hebridean Christ Child’s Lullaby from Fr Ranald Rankin’s Gaelic. In the large double choir, diction, balance and timing were excellent, the storytelling compellingly clear, the softly playing big brass underpinning the voices effectively.
MacMillan’s bold inventive orchestral palette is as unpredictable as it is thrilling. The celesta, an instrument usually providing Christmas sparkle, appears in the orchestral introduction to illustrate a joyful innocence, dancing with woodwind fragments only to be shattered by a vicious timpani assault. There are plenty of punchy dramatic moments throughout the work, but it was the rich combination of instruments that drew us into the series of sound worlds taking us from Herod’s violence to exquisite, thought-provoking arias. The four sinfonia interludes are almost stand-alone pieces, the helter-skelter second with three side drums packing a punch, then the celesta sounding like far off church bells.
Roderick Williams, returning to the work from the UK premiere, and soprano Rhian Lois were our splendid guiding spirits, providing thoughtful poetic commentary. Lois sang Southwell’s words in her two arias, gentle in the opening Behold a silly tender babe, delivered over shimmering strings. The Burning Babe was naturally more troubled as huge chords thundered, cellos and basses marching along, but with a wonderfully peaceful ending, Lois' voice alone with twinkling celesta and faint drums. Williams brought a serene beauty to John Donne’s troubled Nativity, the music given a sinister tone as it turned wintry. On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity was particularly wonderful, Williams gallantly expressing Milton’s words, laden with meaning.
MacMillan uses the chorus as evangelist for the tableaux, but both soloists added drama, particularly effective when Williams and Lois sang of Rachel weeping for her children in Ramah while the chorus accompanied with the Communion Motet for the Holy Innocents, the brutal side of the Christmas story. MacMillan’s fresh score brilliantly captures the drama and urgency, the spiritually charged and the joy of Christmas, a welcome addition to the festive fare.
