Juditha Triumphans is Vivaldi's only surviving oratorio. He wrote it in 1716 for the musically gifted girls of the Ospedale della Pieta, the Venetian orphanage with which he was associated on and off almost throughout his working life. Circumstances imposed certain limitations on him since as the orphans were girls he was constrained to write for an all-female solo cast; in the four-part choruses though, Vivaldi did include parts for tenors and basses, perhaps with a view to posterity but more likely with the intention of mustering voices from among the teachers at the Pieta or even perhaps from outside. No such restrictions however, governed his instrumental forces. The orchestra of the Pieta was renowned for its excellence both in Italy and further afield. For Juditha Triumphans Vivaldi fielded one of the most colourful bands ever to have been heard: recorders, oboes, chalumeaux, trumpets, drums, mandolin, theorboes, viola d'amore, viole all'inglese (whose sympathetic strings make them a close relation to the viola d'amore), obbligato organ, strings and continuo.
The librettist, Giacomo Cassetti, described his work as a ''sacred military oratorio performed in times of war by the chorus of virgin singers, to be sung in the church of the Pieta''. The war was that into which Venice had entered against the Ottoman Empire, to which reference is made both in the main body of the Latin text and in a ''Carmen Allegoricum'' which accompanied the text of the first performance: ''The war is here and now; fierce enemies attack us. Judith is the Adriatic, Abra is the Faith, Bethulia is the Church, Ozias the Supreme Pontiff, the union of Christians and the honour of virgins. Holofernes is the Emperor of the Turks, the Eunuch [Vagaus in the text] his general, and all foretells the victory of the Venetian fleet.''
Vivaldi's oratorio relates the story in the Apocrypha of the noble Jewess, Judith and the Assyrian general, Holofernes. At first hesitant perhaps, but with increasing assurance Vivaldi portrays the character of Judith, her strength, her courage and her femininity with a series of well contrasted arias, some of them memorable for their alluring melodies and imaginative instrumental accompaniments. Especially noteworthy is the affecting ''Veni, veni, me sequere fide'' (Part 1), a melancholy lament with chalumeau obbligato and palpitating string figures in which the heroine intimates to her servant Abra the dreadful fate that awaits the tyrant Holofernes. Though not all the arias in the oratorio are quite of this order there are, nevertheless, few weak numbers and some splendidly effective, though all too short choruses. Where a weakness does exist is in dramatic construction, for in spite of some quite strongly defined characterization there is little in the way of interaction among the dramatis personae, and there is a lack both of variance in tension and of dramatic purpose. It is no small tribute to Vivaldi's melodic gifts and his colourful instrumental fantasy that such shortcomings seem to matter little as he takes us from one beguiling aria to another.
This is the first new recording of Juditha Triumphans for 16 years and I know of only four others, all deleted here, that preceded it: Angelo Ephrikian (Nixa, 8/52), Alberto Zedda (Ars Nova, 1964—available in France and Italy), Ferenc Szekeres (Qualiton, 3/69) and Vittorio Negri (Philips, 10/75). This newcomer is the most stylistically enlightened and the cast by and large is a strong one. Maria Zadori who takes the role of Abra, Judith's servant, has an attractive voice and an agile technique, yet she is inclined to sing under the note as you will readily hear in her continuo aria ''Vultus tui vago splendori'' (Part 1). Annette Markert, a new name to me, is also impressive as Vagaus, Holofernes's servant, though I liked the quality of her voice somewhat less than that of Zadori. Holofernes is sung by Judit Nemeth who brings a lively sense of drama to her interpretation. Judith herself is sung by Gloria Banditelli whose Medea in Cavalli's Giasone (Harmonia Mundi, 7/89) impressed me very much. At times, however, as for instance in her agitated simile aria ''Agitata infido flatu'' (Part 1), she underplays the role making little of her predicament; and I was disappointed, too, by the lovely ''Veni, veni, me sequere fide'' which, though stylishly sung and played, comes across perfunctorily. McGegan's tempo is too fast for me, anyway, and Banditelli is no match here for the redoubtable Oralia Dominguez (Zedda), who projected the contrasting sides to Judith's character with considerably greater conviction. Nor does Banditelli respond to the appealing imagery of the text with the alluring charm and musical sensibility shown in a recent London performance by Diana Montague under Ivor Bolton's direction.
Notwithstanding some reservations, the main one being that McGegan's interpretation is too lightweight, I enjoyed the performance for its many accomplishments. Obbligatos—and they are profuse—are often beautifully executed as, for example, the viola d'amore solo in Judith's ''Quanto magis generosa'' (Part 1); the pacing is brisk and ensemble, instrumental and vocal, fairly disciplined. But for me the work as a whole is dramatically under-projected with the main shaft of light focused on pretty features in the music. Fortunately there are plenty of them and few listeners will be disappointed by the skill with which they are realized. Patchy, unstylish and elderly the Zedda performance may be, but Dominguez probably does fuller justice to the role of Judith than any other. The new Hungaroton is spaciously recorded.'