Page 131 - FINAL_The Sixteen Coverage Book 40th Anniversary Year

pause for thought that Brexit is likely to result in the establishment of at least a legal and cultural wall
between Northern Ireland and Eire, if not a physical one; and also, generally, that the eighteenth-century
identification of Protestant England with the embattled Biblical nation of Israel (which finds expression in
many of Handel’s oratorios) constitutes one strand in the questionable historical narrative of political
exceptionalism which has poisonously fed the present crisis with respect to Europe.

Those divisions between nations is further suggested by the way that the ziggurat which lies behind
Babylon’s walls revolves to reveal Belshazzar’s throne and palace of pleasure where his infamous feast
takes place, harks back to the Tower of Babel in the book of Genesis. Just as that incited God to punish
humankind for their ambitious, collaborative endeavours by creating incomprehension among them through
the adoption of an array of different languages, so the mysterious and disconcerting words “mene, mene,
tekel, upharsin” are written on this skyscraper here, which only Daniel is able to interpret.
Tim Claydon’s dynamic choreography consistently engages the attention with the chorus making some deft
transitions between the crowds of Jews, Persians, and Babylonians, first appearing up on the ramparts to
taunt Cyrus in a viciously delivered musical attack. They form a pullulating orgy in Belshazzar’s palace as
they give themselves over to the pleasures the king encourages, but then form a disciplined crew as the
Persian army. It’s a delicious irony that the long interval for the audience’s supper falls just as the
Babylonians prepare for their fateful feast. Three acrobats offer additional visual diversity, enhancing the
spectacle on display in the Babylonian palace, but their precarious balancing acts also serve as a telling
representation of the precipice on which Belshazzar’s regime is poised throughout the drama.
The musical performances are mixed, but never less than good. Robert Murray’s interpretation of the title-
role depicts the king as ill-at-ease from the start, and like a wild animal, taking its cue from the description
of him in one of the choruses as a “human beast”. Accordingly he tends to declaim the part, rather than
always deliver it strictly musically, but there remains a dimension of human vulnerability underneath. Claire
Booth’s Nitocris is vocally unsteady in her opening scene, as she reflects on the instability of all earthly
empires, with some words not clearly enunciated, but her performance acquires greater assurance and
character. Christopher Ainslie is dependable enough as Cyrus, although in an essentially military role, one
might expect more assertive authority. It falls to James Laing in the other countertenor part, Daniel, to
provide a more arresting and secure account that grips the attention with the clear focus and quietly
penetrating tone of his delivery. The Gobrias of Henry Waddington is somewhat wooden and inscrutable,
but he certainly despatches sufficient heft.

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