December 10, 2025, Advent is in full swing. In the heart of Montreal’s Maison symphonique, the OSM is preparing, once again, to breathe new life into the great Baroque classic, Handel’s Messiah. I’m sitting in row J, seat 23, my bag at my feet. I’m about to discover and listen to the entire Messiah for the first time. I can’t wait.
The musicians enter the stage: choir, first violin, soloists, Payare, applause. Silence. It begins. First movement, Symphony: the oratorio emerges from the crypt of time, as vibrant as it was 284 years ago. The miracle of music. Then the first soloist of the evening rises, a tenor, and it doesn’t stop.
I take notes, I scribble, and above all, I listen. It’s a massive and rich work that Handel left to posterity. Time flies by, the music envelops me, and then it’s already intermission. Applause, hubbub, bathroom break.
I already have some favorites. Luciana Mancini, the mezzo-soprano, has a magnificent voice: warm and powerful, it speaks to me, it enchants me. It’s her voice that seems the most powerful to me tonight. Every time she rises, in her turquoise velvet dress, and walks toward the center of the stage, I eagerly anticipate what awaits me. The choir, however, remains the star of the evening: 35 voices that merge, clash, play, and harmonize, 35 voices that become a single instrument. An instrument that lets me hear glimpses of paradise. The fluctuations in register and volume, from low to high, from a whisper to thunder, both sudden and imperceptible, give me chills, momentarily pulling me away from Assiah. When I see the singers rise at the back of the stage, I almost purr.
The intermission ends. Three knocks, I sit back down. The musicians return to the stage: choir, first violin, soloists, Payare, lights, music. Here we go again. Act two begins: before Christ can be resurrected, he must first be killed—since Handel’s Messiah was originally composed for Easter. The soloists give it their all; they are at their best, even more assured than in the first movement. Each movement is like a new chocolate from an Advent calendar, a delight. The violins, trumpets, and harpsichords are equally impressive: it’s beautiful, dramatic, triumphant, and tragic. The melodies resonate in my ears and touch my heart. I must have shed a tear or two, and it wasn’t from dust. Christ dies, rises again, Alleluia. The third and final movement left me a little unmoved, but the time flew by—three hours of pure bliss. Applause, three encores. I go home to write my review, a smile on my face.
Photos: Antoine Saito
