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Competent Jephtha Lacks Spark


Beware of appeals to divine powers. Agamemnon must sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia to appease Artemis so he can sail to Troy and slaughter some more. Idomeneo promises Neptune the first living creature he sees once he lands safely on shore, only to be welcomed home by his son Idamante. Jephtha vows that if God safely delivers him victory over the enemy Ammonites, “What, or whoe’er shall first salute mine eyes / Shall be forever thine or fall a sacrifice.” Of course, his only daughter Iphis steps forth most eagerly to celebrate his triumphant return. 

Nicholas Phan, tenor (file photo)

I have no progeny to slay in exchange for an ideal rendition of Handel’s Jephtha, and so in Jordan Hall Friday night, Boston Baroque’s mostly competent presentation left me craving catharsis. Under music director Martin Pearlman, the period orchestra and chorus approached Handel’s final meditation on destiny, justice, and mortal toils of righteousness with more artisanal craft than artistic vision, resulting in a performance more perfunctory than profound.

“It must be so,” the opening words of the oratorio announce its proto-Beethovenian theme, revisited verbatim as Jephtha struggles between his vow to God and horror of the consequent demand on the life of his innocent child. The valiant hero who liberates the Israelites self-identifies in his own probity. (“Virtue my soul shall still embrace, goodness shall make me great,” he assures himself in bright G-major triplet runs before he realizes what fateful and fatal choice between honor and compassion awaits.) His darling daughter Iphis inherits his values. She urges her beloved Hamor to fight “with double ardor brave” for the Israelite cause, then she herself with quadruple ardor brave and grace submits to her fate, as “too little is the price of one poor life” to purchase peace and blessings for her people. Her mother Storgè, arguably the throbbing human heart whose fears and fury fuel the transcendence of this morality play, refuses accept some cruel twist of one man’s “impious vow.” Storgè, Hamor, and Jephtha’s equally-but-differently moral brother Zebul beg for Iphis’s life, but tormented Jephtha will not budge. An Angel intercedes like Portia in The Merchant of Venice, dispensing legalistic mercy that droppeth as the gentle rain by pointing out that Jephtha can still honor his vow if he dedicates his daughter to God as a virgin for life. Depending on the version and cuts one employs, some if not all characters voice variable degrees of relief. Throughout, the chorus of Israelites — thoroughly Greek in dramatic function— pleads for, despairs of, and ultimately rejoices in heavenly mercy on behalf of humanity in general. “Whatever is, is right,” it repeats, with equal parts wry resentment, grim resignation, and aspirational rectitude, with the relentlessness of Fate’s door-knock in Beethoven’s fifth symphony.

As his vision rapidly deteriorated, Handel labored over this last oratorio longer than for any other composition. Coetaneous Bach had already died at age 65 the previous year as Handel grappled with mortality, morality, and destiny in Jephtha. Scholars speak of it as the closest approximation we have to the composer’s portrait of his innermost self, in which he musically inverts the pat piety and deus-ex-machina triumphalism of Thomas Morell’s libretto to introduce brooding ambivalence and draw sympathies to human suffering.

All of which is to say, Jephtha invites and deserves so much more than pretty notes on an even beat.

In the title role, tenor Nicholas Phan exhibited his customary careful musicianship, with the round refinement of a bowler hat, and plosive Ts crisp enough to hang it on. Within the constraints of the received canvas, he applied subtle shifts of coloration to his character’s evolution. From self-possessed confidence in the inherent justice of the world through despair at his moral dilemma, he rightly arrived at an endpoint where a tint of plaintive not-quite-believing haunts his grateful praise of God. “Waft her, angels,” Jephtha’s grief-stricken plea for the heavens to grant his daughter in afterlife the protection he himself could not, waxed especially poignant, each soft hitch on the first syllable of “angels” lodging another hook in the heart.

Soprano Ava Pine’s Iphis soothed with honey-and-lemon tea warmth, sweet but never cloying. A little more ebullience in Iphis’s early scenes and a stronger undercurrent of anguish through “Ye sacred priests … Farewell, ye limpid springs and floods” could have vaulted her character development to greater heights. Yet “Such news flies swift … Happy they!” effectively cleaved a quiet crushed-petal path to resignation of life and love.

As Storgè, Ann McMahon Quintero’s loamy mezzo-soprano embraced mourning like a down duvet in her first aria sending Jephtha off to war. The orchestra somewhat submerged the grit and gravity of her nightmare vision in her second, but her rage and haunted incomprehension of injustice charged through with Azucena amplitude in her third.

Countertenor Randall Scotting rang a bright and ardent, if slightly over-vibratoed, Hamor. The versatile bass-baritone Dashon Burton served honorably in Zebul’s musically and dramatically limited role, imbuing it with the moral weight of compassion, and spicing up his sonorous passages with the implausibly bright bounce of his Ns. Soprano Sonja Tengblad’s Angel glowed rosy as a Rubens cherub.

Although a little stiff at first, and mostly loyal to a workmanlike pacing throughout, the orchestra gradually extended its expressive reach as the evening progressed, excelling in purely instrumental passages. They could have applied the darker shadings of “Deeper and deeper still” more generously through other sections. Indeed, with greater imaginative depth and sensitivity to supporting the singers, they could have employed richer variation to help propel dramatic development. Both chorus and orchestra could tighten their attacks and cut-offs and mold more within lines. The soprano section requires a little reinforcement and finer focus.

All in all, to borrow from Jephtha’s own entrance aria, build on this steady base, and goodness could yet be great.


7 Comments [leave a civil comment (others will be removed) and please disclose relevant affiliations]

  1. I somewhat enjoyed Friday nights performance but was perplexed by the lack of vibe which I come to expect from Boston Baroqur’s typical masterful renditions of Baroque masterpieces. The one exception was of course Boston Baroqure’s superstar C. D. Martinson who plays like Paganini at every concert. So despite my small criticism of the concert, Boston Baroque’s
    Concert master cant help making the music enthralling and glorious.

    Comment by Richard Riley — March 10, 2019 at 7:50 pm

  2. Indeed, the performance was not up to the usual standard of Boston Baroque, an opinion seemingly shared by the majority of the audience, many of whom are regular concert-goers. Applause was lukewarm. Indeed, Jephtha “deserves so much more than pretty notes on an even beat.” I was also disappointed in Nicholas Phan. However, he should be given the benefit of the doubt; I think he was under the weather. The one fine moment was the duet toward the end of Act One—we finally were treated so some of the emotion, well sung.

    Comment by Bettina A Norton — March 11, 2019 at 9:44 am

  3. I wish you had all been there on Sunday. I was moved and delighted.

    Comment by LoisL — March 12, 2019 at 6:11 pm

  4. Nicholas Phan sang beautifully & movingly on Sunday.

    Comment by Dennis Milford — March 12, 2019 at 10:30 pm

  5. I went Friday, as part of my four-day Marathon of important music finishing with BLO’s Lucretia. OK, I too noticed a “deadness”. Perhaps this is due to a certain “deadness” or “Lack of Living” this hall has occasionally had since its renovation in the late 1990’s. But I found myself also suddenly yearning for the old “Handel Effect” from the larger choruses and the sparse ornamentation of performances decades ago. How might have a performance of Jephthah have sounded in 1970? This is Handel’s last “new” oratorio and I wanted to hear it having missed it twice before and wanting to see what Handel & librettist did with the plot. (The next night during the Blue Heron convert I even took a look at the pew Bibles to check on the Old Testament story in Judges! In many respects Jephthah is a sacred version of Mozart’s Idomeneo.) So I think the current practice of taking us to “Appogiatura City” and even trends in “historic” performance may be to blame for this deadness. Oh for Tommy Dunn in his prime–tho’ nix on Edward F. Gilday!

    Comment by Nathan Redshield — March 19, 2019 at 8:23 pm

  6. We can take you back to 2011 with this review of a Cecilia Jephtha

    Comment by Lee Eiseman — March 19, 2019 at 10:20 pm

  7. This performance was carefully edited to ensure for faster dramatic flow and to remove several of the da capo sections of very long arias.

    Handel’s practice was to slightly revise every oratorio for every performance to suit the singers present on that day, so this approach is in line with authentic practice.

    I sing with Nicholas Phan frequently, in settings ranging from this size to San Francisco’s large Davies Symph. Hall, and he was definitely making choices to present the role of Jephtha’s father as un-heroic (he makes a “deal” with G-d, who doesn’t answer, he assumes he will sacrifice his daughter for political gain, etc.).

    Here are the exact cuts that were made in the Boston Baroque’s performance (I gave the pre-concert lectures and would be happy to discuss the performance further offline if anyone has questions):
    No. 14 Duet for Iphis and Hamor – B section & da capo removed
    No. 27 Air for Hamor – B section & da capo removed
    No. 29 Air for Iphis – cut
    No. 30 Recitative for Zebul – cut
    No. 31 Da Capo Air for Zebul – cut
    No. 33 Air for Jephtha – B section & da capo removed
    No. 37 Semichorus of virgins – cut
    No. 48 Air for Iphis – da capo removed
    No. 61 Osanna Chorus – cut
    No. 62 Recitative for Zebul – cut
    No. 63 Air for Zebul – cut
    No. 64 Recitative for Storgé – cut
    No. 65 Air for Storgé – cut
    No. 66 Recitative for Hamor – cut
    No. 67 Da Capo Air for Hamor – cut
    No. 69 Da Capo Aris for Iphis – cut

    Comment by Laura Prichard — March 22, 2019 at 11:07 am

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