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Music
Handel
Directors
David Alden
and
Ian Rutherford
Conductor
Christopher
Moulds
Ariodante
Alice Coote
Ginevra
Rebecca Evans
Polinesso
Patricia
Bardon
Dalinda
Sarah Tynan
Lurcanio
Paul Nilon
King
of Scotland
Robert Pomakov
"Ariodante"
will be recorded live on 16th
June, and broadcast on Radio 3
on 24th June 2006
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English
National Opera
London
Coliseum
3
- 24 June 2006 |
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Enthusiasts
for Handel, and for baroque
opera, will already know that
this is a not-to-miss. This
is the third revival (1993,
2002) of the ENO's very successful
and well-known production
of Ariodante,
more or less in its original
format, but with an entirely
new cast (except for Paul
Nilon's Lurciano).
Those for whom Handel's operas
might still be an acquired
taste should also sit up and
pay attention. The music is
beautifully played, and the
singing is of the highest
standard. And the production
bends over backwards - sometimes
too far - to ensure that this
three act opera, lasting almost
four hours, is never a bore.
There is also something fascinating
about undergoing a musical
experience which is close
enough to us historically
to be eminently recognizable,
but also far enough away in
time to provide the challenge
of the exotic. An effort has
to be made to understand the
rules of this game - but it
is an effort which is eminently
worth making. Don't think
earnest oratorios performed
by massed amateur choirs up
North - think Kabuki!
A word first about the performances.
One of the central conventions
of baroque opera - based on
the neo-classical interpretation
of Aristotle's Poetics - is
the portrayal of typical human
emotions in stressful situations,
the plot being designed to
create as many interesting
variants of these as possible.
Thus a great deal depends
on the capacity of each performer
to use the voice to characterise
the required emotional expression.
And this is splendidly achieved
in this production.
Thus Ariodante has to play
the hero wounded to the quick
by the discovery of his beloved
Ginevra's supposed infidelity.
The part was conceived for
one of the most celebrated
castrati of the period, Giovanni
Carestini, who might be said
to have been made for it.
The mezzo-soprano Alice Coote
sings and plays the part of
this wounded innocent with
all the required affect. The
King of Scotland has to exhibit
the emotional stress felt
by the father who is also
a king, required by his office
to condemn his daughter's
adultery. This requires a
big bass voice, and a capacity
to project now majestic command,
now moral horror, now paternal
sympathy and regret. All this
is well realised by Peter
Rose, who shakes off very
well one of the production's
sillinesses, which requires
him to appear in Act I in
the garb and wig of one of
Aubrey Beardsley's decadent
Yellow Book illustrations.
The part of the villain, Polinesso,
was originally written for
a female contralto - Handel
did not have a secondo uomo
(ie. castrato) at his disposal.
The range of the emotions
to be portrayed here make
it the most difficult part
in the piece: they range from
bitterness at his rejection
by Ginevra, who is in love
with Ariodante, seductiveness
in the scene in which he persuades
Ginevra's lady, Dalinda, to
impersonate her in the act
of supposed adultery on which
the plot turns, and sheer
vindictive villainy in the
carrying out of his revenge
on Ginevra and Ariodante.
The contralto Patricia Bardon
carries all this off as to
the manner born, with some
particularly sinister high
pianissimo passages. The little
ginger goatee beard is an
effective production touch,
reminding us that the action
- very implausibly - is taking
place in Scotland.
This baroque convention, of
the set-piece exhibition of
a particular specimen of human
emotion, dictates a musical
design calculated to give
that emotion the fullest possible
play. Musically, Ariodante
consists of a succession of
tableaux vivants dominated,
each in turn, by a single
voice. There are only two
sections for a chorus, dialogue
is limited, there are no ensemble
pieces, and there is only
one passage when the principals
sing together at the same
time. A consequence of this
restrained approach is that
when that moment comes - at
the end, when Ariodante and
Ginevra are reconciled - affect
is greatly heightened. Less,
here, is certainly more.
The musical structure consists
of a succession of arias,
connected by brief passages
of recitative. And each aria
is composed of only a few
lines of words, several times
repeated da capo, with a multiplicity
of ritornelli, much coloratura,
and ample opportunity for
improvision at cadenzas. Handel
was composing at a time when
vocal virtuosity was at its
peak, and this music was designed
to show-case celebrity singers
with a Europe-wide following.
In spite of all the florid
decoration, the words come
over clearly - at the ENO
they are of course sung in
English - and the governing
principle of maximising affect
ensures that form always follows
content. As we adjust to this
stately progression, it is
remarkable how a feeling of
inner calm descends on one's
contemplation of the unfolding
succession of musical and
dramatic ideas.
Of course, today's audience
is very different from that
which gathered for the first
performances of Ariodante
in 1734
at the new theatre in Covent
Garden, only a stone's throw
from our Colosseum. For one
thing, there is probably less
appreciation now of the finer
points of vocal technique
for which the piece provides
such a powerful vehicle. Again,
we miss the fascinating thrill
of the castrato (Cesarini,
at the age of 30, was at the
height of his powers). Also,
our sensibility has changed
so that an intellectual effort
is required to get inside
the static quality of the
action, and the elaborate
stylisation of emotional affect.
But perhaps the most important
thing that has changed is
that today's audience has
been taught by the Romantics
to listen to music with respect
and even reverence.
Handel's audience was very
different. Here is De Brosses
commenting on a night at the
opera at this time - "chess
is marvellously well adapted
to filling in the monotony
of the recitatives, and the
arias are equally good for
interrupting a too assiduous
concentration on chess".
In other words, if the audience
was bored by what was going
on they could readily turn
to other amusements, hushing
and turning to the stage perhaps
only at moments of climax
or special virtuosic display.
It is no doubt because of
this change in the attitude
of the audience that the directors
of Ariodante
have
sought to provide for distractions
in the production to replace
the distractions which the
18th century audience provided
for themselves. This is not
meant ironically. Handel,
too, was determined to try
to grab the attention of his
audience, collaborating to
this effect in his original
Ariodante
with one of the leading dancers
and choreographers of the
period, the French woman Marie
Salle. And the current production
makes spectacular use of the
rich stream of ballet music
which Handel provides at various
points in the evening.
There is, however, an aesthetic
problem in the strategy followed
by the modern directors, David
Alden and Ian Rutherford.
The opera has a neo-classical
requirement for heightened
affect in an essentially static
series of presentations -
and this is in tension with
their introduction of an endless
stream of attention-grabbing
busy-ness (should we say "bizi-ness"?).
This only works when the business
reinforces the emotions on
display in the music and the
singing: when it does not,
the effect is merely distracting
and sometimes even undermining.
Nevertheless, there are many
moments in this production
when the modern business does
reinforce affect, compensating
for those other moments when
it does not. But those who
might like the effect of decorum
punctured by vulgarity will
not be disappointed. More
refined souls who do not can
always shut their eyes for
a minute or so, and be transported
by heavenly music sublimely
performed.
Robert Jackson |
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