2 days ago
Rodelinda, Garsington: Handel's great opera is bogged down by laboured symbolism
Handel's great 1725 opera Rodelinda is as confusing as any from the Baroque era, but underneath the shifting alliances there is a gripping elemental confrontation of two worlds. Inside the palace there is the captured Queen Rodelinda, who is heartbroken at the (apparent) death of her husband, and is fighting like a tiger to protect herself and her son from the usurper Grimoaldo who wants to marry her. Outside, living on berries and spring water, is her husband King Bertarido, helped by one faithful friend, and waiting impatiently for the right moment to strike back.
It's a gift, but the director of Garsington's new production spurns it. Instead Ruth Knight foists on us a very odd three-fold directorial concept. Perched above the stage in Leslie Travers' design are three interconnected metal boxes through which the characters roam. These represent the three-way split of the Lombard kingdom, in turn forming the 'back story' of the opera that one finds it difficult to care about. Knight's decision to fill the boxes with symbolically flourishing greenery, progressively reduced to grey ashes by power and ambition, does little to help.
That's one annoying thing about the production. The other is the troupe of 14 dancers clad in black clothing and wielding huge golden orbs and sceptres who hover and gesture menacingly or pleadingly around the characters, as if blown about by their outsize emotions. Gold is a big thing in this production: the usurper Grimoaldo is covered with it, making him look increasingly silly. Again, the not-very-surprising message appears to be: power and money corrupt.
Half-hidden under this laboured symbolism were some humanly engaging performances. Lucy Crowe as Rodelinda heroically surmounted Handel's vertiginous leaps and runs, and by sheer force of character managed to wrong-foot the powerful, scheming males around her. It's a shame she wasn't in her best voice.
Neither was Tim Mead as her husband Bertarido. It's a tricky role which needs a core of quietly suffering dignity if the exiled King isn't to come across as over-emotional and self-pitying – which is, disappointingly, how he seemed here. Ed Lyon tried to make Grimoaldo's eventual softening of heart seem convincing, but given his absurd outfit of green suit and gold laurel leaf it was hard to endow him with any real character.
Many of the best performances were the minor ones. Brandon Cedel was an enjoyable parody of a chin-stroking villain as Grimoalda's two-faced ally Garibaldo. The most striking person vocally was Marvic Monreal as Bertarido's over-sexed, outrageously treacherous and yet somehow sympathetic sister Eduige, while countertenor Hugh Cutting as Bertarido's louche, chain-smoking friend Unolfo was by far the most interesting person dramatically. He came over as a Handelian Puck – entertainingly amoral and mischievous.
On stage, this Rodelinda made for a bit of a curate's egg. But down in the orchestral pit, the English Concert and their musical director Peter Whelan brought Handel's fabulous score to life in a performance of surpassing rhythmic energy, richly dramatic colouring and heart-breaking lyrical grace.
