Tamerlano - Dramma per musica in 3 acts (1731 version)
Xavier Sabata (counter-tenor) – Tamerlano
Max Emanuel Cenčić (counter-tenor) – Andronico
John Mark Ainsley (tenor) – Bajazet
Karina Gauvin (soprano) – Asteria
Ruxandra Donose (mezzo) – Irene
Pavel Kudinov (bass) – Leone
Il Pomo d’Oro/Riccardo Minasi
rec. April 2013, Villa San Fermo, Convento di Pavoniani, Lonigo, Vicenza, Italy
NAÏVE V5373 [3 CDs: 62:49 + 61:48 + 68:35]
Handel wrote Tamerlano for the Royal Academy in 1724
but it wasn’t a great success in his lifetime — he
only revived it once, in 1731. Since the Handel revival, however,
it has been one of the operas that has most grabbed our contemporary
attention, not just because of the quality of the arias but because
of the innovative ways in which Handel uses and sometimes usurps
the conventions of opera seria. In fact, you could argue
that the very things that made it less palatable to Handel’s
audiences make it more interesting to us, not least the important
role for a tenor. Two examples of Handel’s structural and
psychological innovations stand out: the end of Act 2 is particularly
striking, the key scene where Asteria's plan to kill Tamerlano
is exposed, thus vindicating her honour in the eyes of her father
and her former fiancée who had thought her false. For this
key scene, Handel shakes up what we might have expected from the
form, including an accompagnato recitative for Bajazet,
a trio for the main protagonists, and three short ariettas that
congratulate Asteria for her bravery as each character exits.
The most famous dramatic coup, however, and one of Handel’s
most famous moments, is Bajazet's death scene at the end
of Act 3. Throughout the opera, the captured Ottoman emperor repeatedly
threatens suicide, but when he does finally take poison, rather
than give him a graceful death aria (as was his more conventional
practice), Handel creates a remarkable musical drama out of Bajazet’s
final aria and accompagnato that not only conveys the
character’s emotions with dramatic truth but actually mimics
the process of the poison taking control of his body, with stabbing
string phrases to suggest the final beatings of his heart and
the agonised death-throes rattling through him. It’s startlingly
modern, the kind of thing that you might more expect to hear in
Mozart, or even Wagner, and this performance does justice not
only to this moment but to the whole, skilfully constructed opera.
It's pretty clear that Bajazet is the character that interested
Handel the most, though he is actually a fairly static figure,
adopting a pretty permanent position of rage and perpetually (almost
monotonously) threatening suicide. That said, he gets the pick
of the arias, with lots of variety, both for beauty and for display,
and John Mark Ainsley is a brilliant choice to portray him. Ainsley
judges the balance between pain and resolution just right, paring
down his tone so that he never sounds too big for the music, and
adapting his voice to the character of each aria. He is beautifully
sweet in his first aria about his daughter but thrillingly noble
in his showpiece Act 1 aria Ciel e terra. Likewise, there
is resolution and determination in his Act 2 scenes where he condemns
Asteria for (supposedly) taking on the throne of his enemy, and
the all-important scenes in the final act, including the suicide,
are not only beautifully sung but dramatically exciting, too.
He is worthy of comparing with the best in this role.
As Tamerlano himself, Xavier Sabata, whose brooding visage glowers
out of the cover photo, has an other-worldly quality to his voice
that can comes across as coldness, but this helps to add to his
characterisation of the Tartar emperor who is capable is such
deeds of both greatness and cruelty. Technically speaking he is
never less than secure, such as in the tricky leaps of his first
aria in Act 2. His interpretation is at its greatest, however,
as the character becomes most monstrous: his third act aria, A
dispetto d'un volto ingrato, sung as he orders the
humiliation of Bajazet and Asteria, is not only technically brilliant
but full of cold detachment from the deed which he has done, and
this only grows as the third act runs its course.
Max Emanuel Cenčić has an eerily feminine quality to
his voice which is not always endearing, but he sings with great
beauty. His first aria to Asteria's beauty is a gorgeous
Handelian pastoral, sung with ethereal charm, and he is good at
the difficult runs of his aria that ends Act 1. I really enjoyed
the athleticism of Piu d'una tigre altero in Act
2 and his Act 3 duet with Asteria sounds ravishing, the two voices
blending delectably against the flutes in the orchestra. Karina
Gauvin brings the aristocratic beauty of her voice to the role
of Asteria, the princess who is loved by both Tamerlano and Andronico.
She sings her first aria, a lilting Siciliana, with wounded dignity
as well as sumptuous beauty, whereas the subsequent Deh, lasciatemi
il nemico is full of pathos which suits the restrained nobility
of her voice very well indeed. She finds a surprisingly cheeky
note as she mocks Andronico at the start of Act 2, but her finest
moment is her great third act aria Cor di padre, where
she contemplates the loss of both her father and her brother.
A hitherto unknown rawness enters Gauvin's voice at this
point to reflect the character's extreme emotional strain,
and this is mirrored by the jabbing string motions that speak
of the pain in her heart.
Ruxandra Donose uses the rich depth of her voice to form a strong
contrast to Gauvin, and she makes a good deal of the tricky role
of the vengeful lover who still feels for the one who rejected
her. Her second act aria, Par che mi nasca in seno, is
particularly lovely, beautifully sung and sustained. Pavel Kudinov
doesn't have much to so as Leone, but his vigorous bass
voice makes a welcome contrast to all the others, and his third
act aria is particularly strong.
Il Pomo d'oro, whose work is new to me, prove themselves
to be as agile, flexible and characterful a Handel band as any
you will find out there. They attack the score with passion and
commitment, and their vigour is well controlled by Riccardo Minasi,
who shapes each aria with loving care and a keen ear for detail.
Importantly, their playing is never a mere accompaniment to the
characters, but an integral part of the every aria, and the strings
acquit themselves brilliantly as actors in the drama every bit
as important as the singers. The recording quality is also very
good, though so close that you can often hear the musicians taking
a breath before a chord, which you may or may not find endearing.
In short, this set probably now makes a first choice Tamerlano
as against its closest competition, Gardiner’s Erato set
with the English Baroque, which is excellent but a little soft-edged
in comparison with this one. On the other hand why not check out
Graham Vick’s production from Madrid’s Teatro Real
on film? It has a great cast, including none other than Plácido
Domingo as Bajazet — no doubt it was mounted because he
wanted to try the role — with Paul McCreesh in the pit.
It sends some hardcore Handelians into apoplexy, but I rather
liked it.
Simon Thompson
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