Bach's Matthäus-Passion: Simon Rattle, Peter Sellars and Berlin Philharmonic: An Overwhelming Experience for the Soul

For the first time since I was 17 I did not spend the day of September 16th listening to, and obsessing over, Maria Callas.

 
I went, in fact, in about as far a direction as one could possibly go, spending nearly 5 hours with Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic's boxed set of their now legendary live 2010 performance of Bach's Matthäus-Passion. While opera takes up the biggest chunk of my life, my favorite composer has always been this man who never wrote a single opera, and this work, in particular, for me stands high among the crowning achievements of western civilization.

Recorded live at the Philharmonie, Sir Simon and the musicians he assembled each give definitive performances - perhaps the greatest performances of their lives. It should come as no surprise, the most searing, perfect performance comes from Mark Padmore's Evangelist. I've heard him in the role before, but none of those performances gave an inkling, nor could they have prepared me for the intensity of his personalization, simultaneously exhibiting a fierce, determined strength with the naturalness of a storyteller, and a weary, Everyman broken by life's enormity and cruelty. These qualities increased tenfold as, in addition to his duties of the difficult role, Padmore acted out the role of Jesus, beautifully sung by Christian Gerhaher from a platform high above the stage.

While I've always preferred a deeper, more contralto sound - i.e., Janet Baker, Christa Ludwig or Kathleen Ferrier, Magdalena Kozena sings - and just as importantly here - acts out her role with a heartbreaking ferocity, and complete understanding of this music. Without the aid of stage make-up or other standard theatrical tricks, she looks increasingly more haggard, worn and broken as the Passion moves on. At the same time she radiates a glow of this woman who adored Jesus.  We feel her exultation, sorrow and grief. Her interactions with Padmore's incarnation of Christ, the chorus, and others are revelatory, and when, briefly, Bach allows the music to shine in a hopeful manner, she becomes as dancer. It is a remarkable performance.

Camilla Tilling (very pregnant here) allows her voice to soar and shine through Bach's score differently than the pretty, sad "flute and soprano" music we're accostumed to in so many performance. She infuses her music with both confusion at the situations at hand, as well as with a strengthened resolve to carry on. Tenor, Topi Lehtipuu sings the tenor recits and arias with a gleaming sound that is close to perfection. In fact, I'll go out on the proverbial limb and state his to be the best, most beautiful performance I've ever heard of this music.

The great baritone, Thomas Quasthoff captured shortly before his unexpected retirement, gets some of Bach's greatest arias, including my favorite aria from any composer, Mache dich, mein Herze, rein. Here, as Joseph of Arimethea, the sincerity of his desire to bury his beloved Lord by himself is overwhelming in every sense. Indeed, here, as in his earlier appearances in the Passion, his noble, gentle spirit, and natural sense of drama - acting through the music, is infused with a pilgrim's sincerity throughout, which had to be at the forefront of Bach's mind as he set these beautiful texts.

Interestingly, while he is known for his immaculate precision and control, Rattle, throughout the performance, allows his musicians - noticeably, the arias with small ensembles, or continuo (as well as "duets" between singer and instrumentalist) to take on a life of their own. Without their conductor's influence, they adjust their tempi, dynamics, shaping and conduct these numbers themselves, as Rattle takes a back seat, silently looking on.

The Rundfunkchor Berlin and the boychoir are nothing short of perfection in the blazing, challenges of the choral ensembles, and make the chorales - traditionally performed as breaks in the lengthy narrative - as integral part of the storytelling as any other. Rattle does not allow them to perform them "merely" as congregational hymns, instead inserting great pauses, adjusting tempos according to text, and otherwise revolutionizing the manner in which we hear these familiar tunes. As with every other aspect of this performance, this only adds to the experience in a way that personalizes the great passion story and cuts straight to the observer's soul.

Peter Sellars calls his staging, "a ritualization . . . a prayer," and it is clear from the entire ensemble, every participant is on board to share his point of view. In a bold move, Sellars asked the solo instrumentalists to, as he had with the chorus and soloists, to memorize their music, removing music stands, and allowing - almost forcing - an intimacy of exchanges between the participants that is unique and which enriches the experience.

The final moments here are almost impossible to endure. During the great recitative for the soloists and both choruses, all bid Jesus "good night," and offer thanks for his life, and for the sacrifice of it. The emotion here leads directly into the famous final chorus, as all move towards and surround the tomb and body of Jesus.  It is a mass of humanity circling, confused and broken, yet filled with a hope that is not merely born of desperation, but rather defiant against those who would deny their Lord. Their hushed, tender calls of Ruhet sanfte, sanfte ruht (rest thou gently, gently rest) fades into the hall, as they stand around the tomb, motionless.  Silent.  Silent, too, is the audience, and for just shy of sixty seconds (an eternity in the theatre) there is not a single cough, rasp, throat cleared or premature applause. It isn't until the stage lights go down that the audience begins its ovation - which goes on for some nine or ten minutes, everyone (including this home viewer) releasing what had been building up for hours.

I don't know if I can recall being moved by a recorded performance as deeply. I don't think I ever have. Those who know me can well imagine the sniffling, weeping mess I was by the final chord. Believer or non-believer, this is the greatest story ever told, and rarely has it beenj told so beautifully.