Handel's Acis and Galatea evades concrete definition. Composed in 1718, the piece is perhaps best described as a masque, but there are influences from the Italian serenata and French pastorale héroique traditions: Lully had recently composed an operatic version, and it is no coincidence that French mannerisms sneaked into Handel's score, especially during the act one airs.
While the piece is sustained by a single thread of narrative taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses that tells of the ill-fated love affair between the nymph Galatea and the shepherd Acis, there is little sense of dramatic movement and the score often hops from aria to aria without the interruption of recitative.
In this respect it feels more like a conventional song-cycle, especially given the mosaic-composition of the libretto (written by John Gay, Alexander Pope and John Hughes) and the now common practice of isolating concert arias.
This latest recording from the Scotland-based Dunedin Consort & Players offers an intimate interpretation, which is flattered by the spacious and airy acoustics of Greyfriar's Kirk in Edinburgh. We are used to grandiose gesture in Handel's operas and oratorios, but this score uses smaller forces to reveal a more modest, pastoral delicacy.
It is the Original Cannons Performing Version that is presented here; the instrumentation is sparse – strings are limited to four violins, two cellos and a double bass, and the chorus parts are sung by the five soloists – so we can properly appreciate the sensitivity of this period ensemble under the direction of John Butt.
However, although there is much to enjoy, the performance is not entirely satisfactory and the weaker links reveal themselves in the solo sections. Susan Hamilton sings a pretty Galatea but she tends to over-compensate for her light soprano with unnecessary vibrato. Likewise, Nicholas Mulroy's Acis sounds rather effortful.
Given that the majority of arias develop into an extended da capo format, rich tones and some colouration is required, and not always offered, though Matthew Brook provides some humour and grotesquery as Polyphemus, and the chorus parts are sung with verve and precision. This recording certainly has its virtues, but it is unlikely to supersede those already available.
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