It's not all that long ago that Matthew Best was singing the part of the Ishmaelite father (and very well too!) in the Cleobury recording (EMI, 12/90 – nla) of The infant Christ; and now here he is, directing the whole work according to his own vision of it. Gardiner, while acknowledging its drama, classified it as ''theatre of the mind'': Best, however, is anxious to get away from ''the rather pious oratorio approach in favour of something more human and dramatic''. He therefore treats the work as overtly operatic, not so much by cast movements or varied microphone placings as by his pacing of the action and by encouraging his artists to throw themselves whole-heartedly into the emotions of the story.
He gets off to a tremendous start with a superb reading by a black-voiced Alastair Miles as a Herod haunted by his dream and startled into belligerent wakefulness by the arrival of Polydorus. Later, there is desperate urgency in the appeals for shelter (taken faster than usual) by Joseph (an otherwise gently lyrical Gerald Finley), harshly rebuffed by the chorus. And, throughout, there are spatial perspectives – the soldiers' patrol advancing (from practically inaudible pizzicatos) to centre stage and going off again; a beautifully hushed and atmospheric faraway ''Amen'' at the end. The angels' warning to the Holy Family in Part 1, however, is miscalculated by the voices being too distantly placed for their words to be audible. Balance in general is excellent, a notable passage being the duet in the tender scene at the manger. The clear enunciation (in very good French – full marks to the language coach) of nearly everyone is a plus point: only Jean Rigby, sweet-toned and radiating innocence as Mary, might have given her words greater precision. Gwynne Howell is a bluff, kindly father: the one disappointment in the cast is John Aler, an artist for whom I normally have a great admiration; but here a fast vibrato mars his initial passage, which sets the tone for the work, and his low-register notes are weak.
The chorus's response to the mood and meaning of words is always alert and sensitive, matched by the nuanced orchestral playing. The scurrying of the Ishmaelite family to help, played really pianissimo, is vividly graphic; and their home entertainment on two flutes and a harp, which sometimes marks a drop in the interest, here has great charm. But overall it is Best's pacing, already mentioned, which makes this recording distinctive. His tempos are well considered (certainly better than Gardiner's in Part 2, with a flowing Overture and a shepherds' chorus that doesn't drag), and his dramatic pauses, as in the soothsayers' scene and in the mysterious tension before the narrator's final envoi, are highly effective. This new recording of Berlioz's appealing work well stands comparison with its much-praised predecessors listed above.'