The works of Jean-Baptiste Lully were deeply fashionable at the court of Louis XIV, during the second half of the 17th century. They haven't been since. With their stylish bundle of Lully's courtly entertainments and operatic interludes, however, William Christie and his Parisian ensemble Les Arts Florissants have scored a surprising hit. It is hard to think of another group that could bring such a programme off with this much panache.
Four "harlequin" characters linked the disparate interludes and provided the common - and comic - touch. Hélène Baldini provided some light-footed baroque dancing. There was even a speaking role for Christie (in French, as was most of the linking text, some of it by Molière).
"Imaginez Versailles," he instructed us at the beginning, gesturing optimistically at the plain wooden walls of the Barbican. The audience laughed, but not half as much as some of the soloists must have done when they first saw their lavish baroque costumes. Elaborate headdresses abounded, with several of the men having to wear foot-long feathers on their heads. The only serious clothing anachronism was the battery-powered, illuminated headgear given to two of the ladies.
Yes, it was rather a silly evening. But it is a tribute to Christie's Midas touch that the performance managed to be funny without straying into the ridiculous. Perhaps it helped that all but a couple of the jokes were in French.
But it had more to do with the polish of and sympathy between the singers and instrumentalists, frequently left to perform unconducted. Often Christie seemed to be surveying the action with as much amusement as the audience. But as he mouthed each character's words it became clear that, with the entire evening held in his head, he was the pivotal point of the performance.
As usual with this ensemble there were no dazzling vocal stars, but no weak performers either. Rinat Shaham was impassioned in an interlude from the opera Armide; also impressive were Paul Agnew, Sophie Daneman and Olivier Lallouette, who swirled his fancy cloak and sang Roland's dramatic monologue with aplomb.
