A Samson fine, full-bodied and powerful

With its Gaza setting and its storyline of possibly the world’s first suicide terrorist (or should that be freedom fighter?), Handel’s Samson isn’t without its contemporary resonances. With its minimal staging, however – just a comfy armchair standing in for Samson’s throne – the Edinburghbased Dunedin Consort’s nimble performance let those parallels remain implicit. This was very much Samson as oratorio, in line with Handel’s original intentions.

With director John Butt’s gloriously lithe reading of the work, however, there was never any doubt about the work’s vivid storytelling. Indeed, Butt’s pacing across Samson’s broad architecture was a thing of no little wonder, tracing a sure trajectory from ponderous seriousness at its opening through to increasingly fast-paced action as the work nears its close.

He had a big band for the evening, with oboes, horns and trumpets alongside his large string section, and enthusiastic timpanist Alan Emslie making his presence felt at key moments, not least the sonorous closing chorus.

It was astonishing just how supple and expressive an account Butt achieved from his position at the harpsichord, using just a single hand or a few judicious nods of the head. But he also had a first-rate clutch of soloists. When it came to the frustrated fury of his later airs, US tenor Paul Appleby might have been slightly too polite as Samson, but he floated with radiant serenity in his final air. Sophie Bevan made a brighttoned Dalila during her brief time on stage, in a performance of beautifully judged power.

As Micah, Alice Coote came into her own in her Act I air “Oh Mirror of Our Fickle State”, plunging down into the depths of her range with remarkable darkness. Matthew Brook had evident inner strength as Samson’s father Manoa, and David Soar was suitably stentorian as the Philistine giant Harapha.