Handel : Ariodante
The Chorus of Ariodante
The Orchestra of Scottish Opera
Nicholas Kraemer
Subscriptions occasionally mean taking on board events which would not normally be quite your cup of tea, and the prime example for me this season is this new production of Ariodante, from Scottish Opera. It should come as no surprise to readers of this blog that Baroque music is not really my thing. I can count the number of times I've attended a Handel opera on the fingers of one hand. I've even walked out of at least one, the ceaseless flow of da capo arias proving too much for my constitution. There was no less a ceaseless flow of da capo arias tonight, but at least I stayed the course, although conversion is still not imminent.
For a Baroque opera, the plot is remarkably straightforward. The princess Ginevra has fallen in love with a vassal prince, Ariodante, and with the approval of her father the King, they become engaged, while Ariodante is named as heir to the throne. However, Polinesso has designs on both the bride and the crown, and seduces Ginevra's attendant Dalinda, whom he persuades to dress up as her mistress and let him into her rooms at night, having organised matters so that Ariodante witnesses this apparent betrayal on the part of his betrothed. The ploy is successful, and Ariodante rushes off determined to put an end to himself. However, Ariodante's brother, Lurcanio, has also witnessed the charade, and accuses Ginevra publicly, provoking a trial by combat, in which Polinesso stands as Ginevra's defender, assuming he will win and then be able to marry the princess. Meanwhile, Polinesso has attempted to have Dalinda killed, she has run off, and meets Ariodante, fortunately still alive. Dalinda promptly spills the beans about the plot, Ariodante rushes off to clear Ginevra, Polinesso is killed by Lurcanio, and everything ends happily ever after.
As I said, for Baroque, that's simple. There's strictly minimal confusion of identity, and the vocal roles are clearly defined. The less said about it all supposedly taking place in Scotland, the better, and the director tonight, Harry Fehr, generally avoided any such references. The production had its positive and negative points. On the downside, there was a kind of 'democratisation' of the characters, partly because of the modern dress - Dalinda becomes a chambermaid, Ariodante a soldier (albeit decorated) - which made nonsense of some of the actions and relations. The English surtitles were a little too fond of the term "commoner", which is not at all what the Italian implies, even when there is a reference to differing status. Making Dalinda a chambermaid makes her seem exceptionally forward, on all levels, and with Polinesso remaining a Duke, the military context in which he, Ariodante and Lurcanio are all placed would still not permit the kind of interaction we see were the brothers actually commoners. There were little clashes like that all over the place that I found somewhat jarring.
However, there were, also, some very good points, and particularly the scene between Dalinda and Polinesso after his set-up scene for Ariodante's benefit. She appears in Ginevra's dress, which she removes, and there are bruise marks on her upper arms and shoulders, as she sings "Se tanto piace al cor", her declaration that she will do anything for his affections, in an absolutely classic projection of an abusive relationship. This is an opera with quite a substantial element of dance music in it (and I think a fair bit of it was cut), and while that was mainly limited to two dancers, they were reasonably well used to make points about trust in relationships, although the choreography itself wasn't especially inspired.
Nicholas Kraemer is highly experienced in the Baroque and Early Music fields, and kept things moving along, not letting the recitative drag, with an orchestra that, for the most part, sounded clean and crisp. The violins in "Dopo notte" were a little thin for my liking, and the horns in the King's first aria, "Voli colla sua tromba" were decidedly sour - I had thought they might be natural horns (which would make the flatness understandable, if not entirely excusable), but I could only see valve instruments in the pit - but there were other, rather more satisfactory moments too, such as the gently sighing accompaniment for "Scherza infida", with its bassoon obligato, or the sobbing strings under Ginevra's quasi-Mad Scene, "Il mio crudel martoro".
The singing was generally good too. Neal Davies (the King) and Ed Lyon (Lurcanio) were solid presences, while Xavier Sabata played Polinesso with the kind of moustache-twirling relish you'd expect to find in a Ruritanian romance, his fluting countertenor almost shocking in contrast to his pantomime-villain physical appearance. Much of the evening was dominated by Jennifer France's vocally sure and sweet-toned, and dramatically complex Dalinda, but Sarah Tynan was a dignified Ginevra, and particularly strong in the long scene at the end of the second act, after she has been accused. Caitlin Hulcup came across as a very young Ariodante, in late adolescence, perhaps, with the extremes of reaction and emotion one might expect from such a young man. The vocal coloratura in the first major aria, "Preparati a morire" was a touch slurred, but the show-stopping "Dopo notte" was much cleaner, and "Scherza infida" was eloquently moving.
[Next : 19th February]
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