Comments by "" (@I_M_S-o4y) on "Gravitas: Wuhan Virus: Has China put the world in peril again?" video.
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The first half was astonishingly beautiful. The Antiennes, heralding the coming of Christ in music of great devotional fervour, were exquisitely sung, with everything wonderfully controlled and shaded, and a beautiful evenness of line from tenors and basses. The fourth antiphon O Clavis David, in which Charpentier adds women’s voices into the mix for the first time and opens up the continuo accompaniment to embrace the strings, suggesting a new world of infinite possibilities, had a breathtaking immediacy. The Noëls, meanwhile, played with wonderful sensuousness of tone and rhythmic precision, sounded poised and graceful. It was hard to imagine the sequence better done.
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Embodying an indestructible, physics-defying goat, you run across the map at supersonic speeds, crashing through obstacles with a headbutt, all while dragging anything you want alongside your furry little legs with the elastic grip of your tongue. (This can include chairs, explosives, and unlucky human beings.) The joy is found in pushing the goofy, hallucinogenic physics system to its absolute breaking point. Your goat can bounce off a trampoline into low orbit, or smash oncoming traffic towards the distant horizon. The most interesting difference from 2014’s Goat Simulator, aside from the larger arena of chaos, is that you can now do all of this in multiplayer.
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The second half brought a change of mood. Sur la Naissance, in which the shepherd and shepherdess Tircis and Sylvie (Nicholas Scott and Julie Roset, both excellent) comment on the nativity – at one point wryly discussing Joseph’s age – before leading their fellows in adoration, is engaging if slight. It was done, un-conducted, as a chamber piece, in which Christie actually played the tambourine, but the deft ensemble work couldn’t quite disguise the piece’s unevenness of tone. In Nativitatem Domini Canticum is a more sober examination of the same narrative, and there is also something of the Antiennes’ reflectiveness in a breathtaking passage in which theshepherds express their wonder on first seeing the Christ child. Again, it was immaculately done, the playing sensuous and detailed, the singing matchless in its quiet intensity.
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There’s more later, once Margolyes hosts her first Christmas lunch (no mock turtle soup here) with surplus food collected and cooked by someone from the Felix Project, a charity which cooks food for those in need using food that would otherwise go to waste. “It’s incredible that we waste all this food, and yet 400,000 children in London every day don’t have a proper meal,” says Leon, the charity’s head chef. Dickens would have approved, says our host, sitting at the head of the table, wearing a crown, and not for the first time making me think how great it would be if Margolyes were queen.
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