Handel’s final Italian opera has never achieved much of a
profile. It was only ever performed three times at its initial presentation
in London, and there are only two recordings of it in the current catalogue
- one each from Rudolph Palmer in 2001 and Alan Curtis in 2004. This appears
to be its only presentation in video format.
Such neglect is really unfair. Although the plot of
Deidamia
appears on the surface to consist of yet more Handelian tangles of
disguises, cross-dressing and misidentification, the idea of disguise is not
- as usually with Handel - an ornamentation to the plot, but lies at the
very centre of it. Achilles has been sent to an island disguised as a woman
to prevent him taking part in the Trojan War, which it is correctly
prophesied will lead to his death. The heroine of the opera, who is already
aware of the subterfuge of the disguise, falls in love with him but in the
end has to yield not only to the demands of the Greek generals who come in
pursuit of the hero, but also to Achilles’s own lust for heroic glory
even if this will prove fatal to him. Deidamia herself is given a series of
arias which display all Handel’s responsiveness to changes of mood and
situation; but there are also magnificent pieces for Achilles and the
cunning Ulysses who is seeking to unmask him.
The opera also show Handel’s style continuing to develop with
the passing years. Particularly interesting is the hunting scene in which
the Greeks seek to discover the true identity of Achilles, which opens with
an ensemble and chorus - unprecedented in Handel’s earlier Italian
operas - which betray Handel’s increasing interest in the field of
dramatic oratorio. So indeed does the aria
Va, perfido during that
scene, which pre-echoes
O thou that tallest good tidings to Zion. We
are reminded that
Messiah was just around the corner. There are a few
dramatic longueurs - it was a mistake to follow Deidamia’s beautiful
lament in the Second Act with another slow aria for the somnolent Lycomedes
- but by and large the occasionally rather insubstantial plot keeps bubbling
along with plenty of incident.
The first thing to be said about this recording is that the
performance is magnificent. Sally Bradshaw encompasses all the aspects of
Deidamia with ease and confidence, and produces some superbly poised
coloratura in her ornamentation of the
da capo arias. Olga
Pasichnyk is a delightfully tomboyish Achilles, whose female disguise should
never have fooled anyone for a moment. Ulysses, originally a
castrato
role, is here taken - in accordance with Handel’s usual practice when
a
castrato was not available - by the very feminine Silvia Tro
Santafé who produces some gloriously smooth sounds. As the secondary
pair of lovers, Veronica Cangemi and the personable Andrew Foster-Williams
both produce performances to die for; and even the elderly Lycomedes is
given full measure by Umberto Chiummo. In the pit the energetic Ivor Bolton
keeps everything moving along nicely, but is able to conjure expressive
sounds from the expanded period band when needed. Indeed from the musical
point of view this is quite simply faultless, once we have got past the
business of Ulysses’ opening lines being delivered over a submarine
tannoy. As a musical performance it is streets ahead of Rudolph
Palmer’s pioneering recording - I have only heard extracts from that
by Alan Curtis, but those reveal a performance that is certainly no better
than the one we have here and rather smaller voices with less dramatic
involvement.
One usually has reason to be even more suspicious of stage
productions of Handel than one does of those of Wagner. ‘Concept
producers’ seem to regard Handel as completely open season for any
directorial gloss they may wish to impose. It must be confessed that
Handel’s operas often admit of such interpretations; but the results
can often be not only laughable but positively ugly, and only rarely
illuminating. Here the scenery, by Paul Steinberg, is superb. The panoramic
skyscapes which dominate the scene are beautifully designed, and the sets
although basic have an attractiveness which enhances the stage picture. The
costumes by Constance Hoffman, the usual modern mix of styles from classical
Greek to brutal twentieth century, are not in themselves unpleasant to look
at; and we are spared the excesses of garish makeup which we often encounter
in this repertory.
The only real problem with this set comes with the stage direction
itself, the work of David Alden. It should be clear from what I have said
above that
Deidamia is essentially a very serious opera addressing
very real issues, and Handel’s music reflects this. Often Alden will
allow his singers a straightforward rendition of the opening of a
da
capo aria, only to spoil the effect with irrelevant and downright
distracting stage business during the middle section and reprise - as if he
does not trust the music sufficiently to hold the viewer’s attention.
Some of the stage business works, but most of it does not; sometimes it
draws the focus away from the singers themselves, and at other times - like
the Greek soldiers ogling Deidamia while she undertakes callisthenetic
exercises on the beach during
Nasconda l’usignol (don’t
ask why) - it focuses the attention in the wrong sort of way. Fortunately he
keeps this tendency at bay during Deidamia’s beautiful lament
Se il
timore, and after that, as the plot thickens, the treatment of the
dramatic situation becomes more serious.
This is a relatively minor distraction in the context of a
performance which is musically so superb and where the stage pictures are
often so beautiful to look at. In fact this is a production that will
gladden the heart of any Handelian, who may well be unfamiliar with a score
that deserves far more attention than it has hitherto received. The final
duet for Deidamia and Ulysses, with its long-breathed sighs of
“Amor!”, and the curiously downbeat final chorus - emphasising
the fact that this is not an opera with a conventionally happy ending - set
the seal on a very enjoyable experience.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
[208.00]
