Bach’s first setting of the Passion, that according to St John, was given a commanding performance directed by the acclaimed British choral director Stephen Layton in the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra Baroque Festival. Remarkably and happily, it was it was the 300th anniversary almost to the day of its first hearing in Leipzig in 1724. Top-notch soloists, a fine orchestra and the MSO Chorus in very good form held us close as the drama of Christ’s arrest, judgement, torture and finally death on the cross was played out in just under two hours.
Although the printed program had stated that there would be an interval, an announcement as the audience were entering the hall advised that there would be none. And what a very wise move, because Layton’s conception of the presentation meant that we had to be gripped from first to last in an almost liturgical action that dare not be interrupted. After Deborah Cheetham Fraillon’s Acknowledgment of Country, Long Time Living Here, Layton made a humble appearance on the podium from somewhere in the orchestra. His attitude was reverent – no bells, smells, bouquets, or welcoming applause for the one who was to take us on this spiritual journey. After the chorale concluding Part One, he held us in a moment’s silence, resisting applause by stillness before proceeding to Part Two. Even more liturgical was Layton’s laying down his baton (a pencil!) and standing with bowed head after Jesus’ last words “Es ist vollbracht” (It is accomplished), keeping the great hall in more than a minute’s intense silence. Layton’s approach reminded us that “Bach’s John Passion was conceived not just as work of religious art but as an act of worship” (John Eliot Gardiner, Music in the Castle of Heaven).
Although Bach never wrote an opera, here we had the arrival of solo actor-singers entering or exiting as they were required to be part of the visual action, with stylised and deliberate movements. And the central players were indeed theatrical – John the Evangelist declaiming the story; Jesus, dignified and composed, looking straight ahead; Pilate prevaricating, conversing and gesticulating, or looking behind him for the crowd’s reaction. Most head-spinningly, Ruairi Bowen as Evangelist and Christopher Richardson (Christus) performed from memory, without scores, so the action was realised as characters interacting in a play, with no script to come between us and them. As fine as all the soloists were, there was no doubt that the star of the show was Bowen. Looking not unlike the beloved disciple’s portrayal in many Renaissance paintings, young and good-looking, by turns he implored us with direct gaze to listen, then directed our attention to the other characters. Bowen’s devotion to telling the story was remarkable. His voice is quite light but had enough edge to bring out a full range of emotions.
The arias were also performed with expressive musicality. In Part One, the first was Ashlyn Tymms’ “Von den stricken”, notable for its word painting, her clear alto elegantly accompanied by the two oboes musically weaving around each other. Here, as in other arias, the excellent continuo group comprised double bass (seated prominently at the front of the orchestra to good effect), small organ and cello. In “Ich folge”, the joyful soprano aria that followed, Sara Macliver’s lovely voice and effortless runs were matched by faultless flutes playing their delicious runs in a perfect unison line. Bowen’s turn as Peter in the quite fiendish aria “Ach mein Sinn” just before the chorale that closes Part One had the art and technique to carry his voice from lowest to the highest reaches with amazing ease and full dynamic range.
David Greco’s arioso in Part Two, “Betrachte, meine Seel”, where he contemplates Jesus as the innocent victim pricked by thorns, was authoritative and serenely beautiful, with a pair of violins (and I heard the plucking of something to represent the pricking but didn’t see the lute that Bach specified) joining the continuo group. This was immediately followed by Bowen’s “Erwage”, melodically mirroring the curve of the rainbow of the text. He trod a tightrope of a melodic line most wonderfully, working against and with duo violins played tenderly, and the supportive continuo (sans bass). Bowen’s top notes were beautifully placed and lightened, and he even subtly added a few elegant vocal ornamentations. Outstanding. In the bass aria with chorus, Greco’s “Eilt, ihr angefochtnen Seelen” excitingly depicted the hurrying of the assaulted souls to Golgotha, and the final “Wohin” from the choir was electrifying.
After Jesus’ final “Es ist vollbracht”, Tymms slowly advanced across the stage like one of the Marys to sing her aria echoing these words. The accompanying viola da gamba played like a goddess, in the high French style required, dripping with mournful appoggiaturas. Such sorrow filled our shared space. Then, with fanfaring strings in heroic D major, Tymms celebrated the triumph of Judah’s hero in a brief flurry of royal victory. The mournful gamba returned with continuo for a heartbreaking coda before the Evangelist’s “Und neiget das Haupt”, Bowen most movingly telling us that Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit. Then followed Layton’s great silence and a moment for contemplation and meditation.
Greco’s following aria “Mein teurer Heiland”, with just cello and organ continuo, and joined by a tender chorus, so soft they were barely there, was achingly beautiful. In a sudden and terrifying change, the Evangelist announced the rending of the curtain in the temple and the quaking of the earth, depicted by thundering cellos and double bass with Bowen in his final arioso. Macliver’s exquisite aria “Zerfließe, mein Herze” followed, her final threnody to the dead Jesus sung with lyrical tenderness, accompanied by expressively sorrowful flute and oboe Genuinely affecting, it was another highlight in a performance with many.
And of course, last but not least, there was the mighty chorus. There were some really spine-chilling moments of fierceness, anguish and nastiness from chorus and orchestra, with Layton bringing out the forcefulness and anger in the “turbae” by accenting particular words and insisting on diction. The choruses and chorales are a massive sing, so it is perhaps understandable that some of the sopranos’ highest notes occasionally sounded tired and strained. The “Kreuzige ihn!” cries from a mad crowd was terrifying in its impact. But the choir equally impressed in its soft and gentle singing, particularly in the chorales. The final wrenchingly poignant but consoling chorus, “Ruht wohl”, was very beautifully done. Eliot Gardiner refers to this chorus as having the “gentle choreography” of a rondeau – simultaneously song and dance – and indeed Jesus is the Lord of the Dance in some theologies.
Over the course of nearly two hours we had spiritually journeyed a great distance in a masterpiece gifted to us by the great Kantor of St Thomas’, and under the direction of a master whose conception and intellectual grip of the Passion’s musical and dramatic structure was impressively and movingly realised.
Photo credit: Nico Keenan
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Kristina and Bruce Macrae reviewed Bach’s “St John Passion”, presented by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra as part of the MSO Baroque Festival at Arts Centre Melbourne, Hamer Hall on April 6, 2024.
