Review: Purcell’s ‘King Arthur’
By Dan Bavister
Above us, in the high vaults of Castle’s Great Hall, the old weapons still kept their vigil. Sabres, halberds, pikes, and iron helms: remnants of border wars and vanished kingdoms, hanging now in ceremonial silence above an audience filing in with programmes and cardigans, emerging from the last cool evening of spring towards the Durham summer now gathering beyond the walls. The Hall seemed to hold all its centuries at once. Candle-warm light settled on the dark wood panelling; footsteps and low conversation muttered upwards into the space; somewhere beyond the glowing windows, the Wear moved unseen through the blackness beneath the castle walls. Durham has always possessed this curious power: to make the past seem less like preservation than resting, latent, between contemporary performances.
The images from that performance of Purcell’s magisterial King Arthur remain distinct in my mind. For we were in safe hands indeed. Dunelm Consort & Players, that exemplary ensemble, had laid on a feast for us. Founded in 2015, the Consort is dedicated to the “performance and appreciation of early music” (to quote the eloquent programme). Their equal commitment to singers and players alike lends the ensemble both precision and vitality throughout.
This was, unmistakably, a performance of tremendous energy: entirely in keeping with Purcell’s vision of heroic Britons holding the evil Saxons at bay
The evening altogether proved ebullient and deeply enjoyable. Many of the great and the good — and the journalist Michael Portillo too — had flocked to attend: students, university staff, local residents, and alumni. It was a pleasure to see so many friends, old and new, gathered beneath those ancient rafters, and deservedly so. One contemporary, who I understand had never attended an opera before that night, declared himself a complete convert, particularly praising James Gordon’s superb Cold Genius, which he said made the evening “most enjoyable”.
Conducted by the experienced and ambitious musical director Barney Howard, the performance was anchored throughout by the Revd Canon Michael Hampel, whose narration proved both characterful and charismatic. Written by the then Poet Laureate John Dryden in 1684 to celebrate the restoration of the monarchy under Charles II, King Arthur arrives before modern audiences with its patriotism wholly unadulterated. At times, jubilantly jingoistic too.
Now, during the reign of Charles III, that unabashed national triumphalism perhaps feels oddly close to the zeitgeist once more. With King Charles fresh from his diplomatic encounters with the budding ‘King of America’, the overbrimming and malign Donald Trump, British audiences can perhaps once again permit themselves at least a faintly righteous enjoyment of patriotic bombast — especially the sort more often associated with our neighbours across the Channel or across the Atlantic than with our own usually more restrained island temperament.
Indeed, it was precisely this unashamed patriotism — displayed most vividly in the literal unfurling of a gigantic Union Flag during the closing scenes — that filled the Hall once more with bombast and glee. This was, unmistakably, a performance of tremendous energy: entirely in keeping with Purcell’s vision of heroic Britons holding the evil Saxons at bay.
At times, the performance seemed almost an apparition of an older England now vanished — if indeed it ever truly existed at all
Highlights from the richly textured and imagistic sequence of scenes included, naturally, Hampel’s rigorous oratory and effortless command over the room — a vital requisite when confronted with so titanic an undertaking as Purcell’s work so often demands. Fabian Tindale Geere’s rendition of Grimbald proved at once totalising and subtle, his eloquent voice rising confidently into the vaulted space above. Likewise, Gordon’s singing proved truly first-rate. Alongside Cupid, deftly played by Josephine Sim, he commanded some of the performance’s most challenging vocal modulations. At moments, it seemed impossible that any voice — let alone a single voice — could attain the charged heights and subtle ebbs and flows required to fill such a space; and yet, time after time, Gordon not only rose to the occasion but exceeded it. A demonstration of genuine talent, and perhaps the finest performance of the evening — improved still further by the dashes of dry humour when our distinctly ‘cold’ Cold Genius (dressed in winter coat and scarf over his black tie) transformed into a Polynesian sunshine vision with Hawaiian shirt and pink sunglasses.
The entire cast proved full of character, each in their own distinct way. So often in early music, performances can feel stilted or trapped behind the glass of their own period sensibilities. This rendition, aided in part by scripted embellishments touching on contemporary themes — the manifold annals of Brexit among them — instead felt delightfully alive: contemporary in its verve, energy, and synthesis of sound and movement, whilst still retaining the aura of something older and stranger. At times, the performance seemed almost an apparition of an older England now vanished — if indeed it ever truly existed at all. Altogether, it proved difficult for any Briton, no matter how pessimistic, not to feel at least somewhat stirred: by the fine talent on display, certainly, but also by the sheer sweep and conviction of the evening itself.
Image: Dunelm Consort & Players via Instagram
