Prom 42: Beethoven’s Ninth by Heart review – music and emotion made electrifyingly visual

Joy – that’s what the last movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is really about, despite all the heavy lifting it’s been made to do over the decades. The Aurora Orchestra’s performance, with the Ode to Joy thrillingly sung by the BBC Singers and the 100-plus young adults of the National Youth Choir, had that as its overriding takeaway. And yet, as ever, there was much more to this Prom.
Aurora’s from-memory performances tend to make the music somehow more visible, in that what we see – in terms of both the stage blocking and the way in which the musicians can move freely as they play – reinforces what we hear. The idea of using eyes as well as ears aptly permeated the semi-dramatised exploratory introduction before the interval – another Aurora hallmark.
Beethoven’s preparations for the premiere were brought to life in scenes simultaneously spoken and signed by the actors Thomas Simper and Rhiannon May – the latter sharing with the composer the experience of living with hearing loss. Written by Jane Mitchell, who also co-directed along with James Bonas and Matthew Eberhardt, the script drew on the notebooks Beethoven habitually carried around with him at this stage of life, full of to-do lists and, fascinatingly, one-sided exchanges – Beethoven’s companions would scribble down for him their contributions to a conversation, negotiation or argument. Around this, the conductor Nicholas Collon took bits of the music gently apart for us: an exploration of the big tune using the pedagogic hand gestures of tonic sol-fa brought that melody, too, into the realms of gesture.
The performance itself was electric, pacey and fluid, with the four principal woodwinds – including Mitchell, who is Aurora’s first flautist, and Timothy Orpen, whose clarinet solos consistently shone – sparking off each other.
The final movement began with only the orchestra on stage. Where were all the singers? It was still a mystery as the big tune emerged on low strings – hushed, as if played from under the platform. Then, as the tune repeated and grew, the choir and soloists streamed on behind and around and between the players, and the stage was full – just in time for Christopher Purves to lead the singing, giving the bass solo his fullest, gladdest throttle. Here was joy, loud and clear, audible and, yes, visible.