The Coliseum
(sung in English, as Julius Caesar)
Giulio Cesare – Lawrence
Zazzo
Curio – George Humphreys
Cornelia – Patricia Bardon
Sesto – Daniela Mack
Cleopatra – Anna Christy
Tolomeo – Tim Mead
Achilla – Andrew Craig Brown
Nireno – James Laing
Fabulous Dance Theatre – Saju
Hari, Karolina Kraczkowska, Johannes Langholf, Louise Mochia, Erik Nevin, Emmanuel
Obeya, Keir Patrick, Rachel Poirier, Raquel Gulatero Soriano, Louise Tanoto
Michael Keegan-Dolan
(director, choreography)
Andrew Lieberman (set
designs)
Doey Luthi (costumes)
Adam Silverman (lighting)
Orchestra of the English National Opera
Christian Curnyn (conductor)
Julius
Caesar returns to the
Coliseum for its second production, succeeding that by John Copley, conducted
by Sir Charles Mackerras, with Dame Janet Baker in the title role. (It remains
available in both CD and DVD.) There is much to enjoy, especially vocally, and though
Michael Keegan-Dolan’s production is in some respects baffling, I doubt that it
would prove unduly off-putting to anyone. Keegan-Dolan ultimately seems far
more of a choreographer than a dancer. Opinions will doubtless differ on
whether ‘interpretative’ dance of pretty much every number adds something or
becomes wearisome. Some instances work better than others; though the work of
Keegan-Dolan’s Fabulous Dance Theatre is very good on its own terms, some of
the movement can nevertheless tend towards silliness. My concern is more that
it tends to be a substitute for presenting a more fully-formed production,
though doubtless the practice’s advocates would claim that dance in itself is a
perfectly acceptable form of operatic direction. Likewise images such as dead
crocodiles and giraffes do not compensate for a clearer vision of what the
opera might be about, or even what is happening. Too often, especially during the
first act, the concern seems more to be to show off the bodies of dancers and
singers – white vests and tight-fitting trousers do the trick – rather than to
present a credible or even involving drama. Gun shots here and there are not
really an adequate substitute for a Baroque sense of the fantastic.
That brings us to a more
general problem involving Handelian opera
seria. As Jonathan Keates put it in his programme note, ‘At the heart of
Baroque opera lies an unresolved tension between past and present. On the one
hand its preferred subject-matter offers us an idealised vision of classical
antiquity ... On the other lies a timeless world of intimate personal
relationships, a private, confessional universe where ordinary emotions – rage,
desire, jealousy, remorse – expose these very same heroes and heroines to our
scrutiny as ordinary men and women.’ In a sense, that approaches the problem
many of us continue to experience with Handel’s operas at least. There seems
little real interest in the ‘antique’ setting, but also little that enables us
to relate to the characters as flesh and blood. Presumably that brings part of
the motivation for a ‘different’, dance-based approach, but I cannot help but
think that a more thorough-going reimagination – call it Regietheater, if you will, but there is no especial need to confine
oneself with the implications that may present – might have enabled us to care
more about what was happening on stage.
Christian Curnyn’s resolutely
vibrato-free approach will doubtless find many supporters; so does hanging. To
me, it seemed a pity to spoil the ship for a ha’porth of tar, since thin string
tone detracted from what was for the most part a sensibly, attractively paced
reading. Recitatives did not outstay their welcome, partly a matter of
considerable pruning – a few arias had to go too – but more a matter of keen
dramatic handling (pun unintentional). Recorders do not blend very well with
modern strings, even when the latter are played so as to sound as close as
possible to their forebears, but there was a great deal to relish in the
splendid performance of the ENO Orchestra’s woodwind section. Some delicious
oboe and bassoon playing brought to mind the instrumentation of Handel’s
dramatic oratorios, Saul – the Witch
of Endor scene – in particular. (If only we might see that staged – and of
course benefit from the inspired choral writing, absent from Handel’s operas.)
Lawrence Zazzo offered a
dazzling performance in the title role, tender moments every bit as impressive
as quick-fire coloratura. Zazzo showed quite how far we have come from the days
of counter-tenor hooting, even though I retain an heretical liking for transposition
(remember Fischer-Dieskau), if only for the sake of vocal variety. Tim Mead’s
venomously spitting Tolomeo proved an impressive foil. I am
afraid I could not relate to the vocal character of Anna Christy’s Cleopatra; though well enough sung in abstract term,; the role seems to demand something richer than a soubrette. (Valerie
Masterson on the Mackerras recording and still more so the wonderful Tatiana
Troyanos for Karl Richter show how it can be done.) Daniela Mack’s Sesto was
inexplicably portrayed as a girl – the programme actually has: ‘Sesto, daughter
of Pompey and Cornelia’ – but Mack overcame that weird directorial handicap as
impressively as one could have reason to expect. The situation was rendered all
the more confusing by the counter-tenor-like voice of Patricia Bardon’s
Cornelia. Following some unattractive scooping in her first aria, she recovered
well, but I had to check the programme to assure myself that this was not a
falsettist who looked uncommonly convincing in women’s clothes. It was a pity,
if understandable for reasons of timing, that Andrew Craig Brown’s Achillas
lost two out of his three arias, for in his first, he revealed a dark,
dangerous voice eminently suited to the role, and of which I should be keen to
hear more.
Brian Trowell’s 1978 English
translation is a model of its kind. Leaving aside arguments as to whether
translation might be necessary or even desirable in an age of surtitles, this
vernacular version presents the words clearly, musically, and without drawing
undue attention to itself. If the truth be told, translating Handel’s operas
into English does relatively little harm; Handel writes similarly whether
setting Italian or English, and this is not, to put it diplomatically, Mozart
setting Da Ponte. As I mentioned above, however, I wonder whether ENO might
consider staging the odd dramatic oratorio – by which, however, I certainly do
not mean a revival of Deborah Warner’s misguided Messiah production.
