Prom 32: The King's Consort, Royal Albert Hall, London

I complained in an earlier review that not enough of this year's Proms exploited the vast interior of the Albert Hall. No grumbles about Robert King's reconstruction of the coronation of George II, which, for two hours of historical escapism, transformed the RAH into the Westminster Abbey of 11 October 1727. That coronation incorporated elements of previous ceremonies, as was the custom; it also featured the four splendid anthems that Handel composed for the occasion.

King exploited the hall to thrilling effect. The concert began with a fanfare and drum procession, the musicians filing in down the east stalls towards the podium as the hall's multiple echo threw in a couple of layers of rhythmic confusion.

Then, from the far stalls, the Choir of the King's Consort – read the Scholars of Westminster School in the western end of the abbey – gave a triple shout of "Vivat!" The singers, now as clergy and choir, snaked down both sides of the arena, the Prommers parting before them as the Red Sea before the Israelites.

Safely on stage, the Choir sang one of the gems of the evening, the anthem "O Lord, Grant the King a Long Life" by William Child, whose simple, lovely music is still insufficiently esteemed. (The Lord, ignoring Child's name, granted him a long one: he was 90 or 91 when he died in 1697.) Another moment of melting beauty came with the exquisite delicacy of Tallis's litany, "O God, the Father of Heaven".

In the 1960s, it used to be trendy to write Prom pieces that involved the audience. Been there, done that 250 years ago, and for this reconstruction, the 5,000 voices of the Albert Hall audience stood in for the 2,000 squeezed into the abbey in 1727 as we belted out John Farmer's "Come, Holy Ghost" with evident enthusiasm.

There is something about being in the middle of massed voices – at a song festival, a football match, a revivalist meeting, as you prefer – that touches a primal instinct, and hearing Handel's "Zadok the Priest" immediately after our own efforts brought it a tingling electricity.

And so it continued, in a swirling exchange of fanfares, drum rolls and choral and orchestral music by Purcell, Blow, Gibbons and Handel, punctuated by a few remarkably precise shouts of "God save the King!" from the audience (some of us, I confess, had had a sneak rehearsal at the pre-Prom talk).

Robert King does this kind of historical recreation very well: neither he nor his musicians lose sight of musical detail among the theatrical sweep, and the result satisfies the ear as well as the eye. He confessed at the talk that he is looking round for the subject of his next reconstruction. Suggestions on a postcard, please...