I have long considered Alcina to be Handel’s finest opera, far more interesting both musically and
dramatically than the 
rest of his output,
including the ubiquitous Giulio Cesare, which is little more than an assemblage of tuneful numbers.
Alcina has at its centre one of Handel’s most sophisticated and well-rounded female creations. This
titular sorceress runs the gamut of emotions; the underscoring of which is a sublime series of masterful arias that
elicit a deep emotional response from the audience. Your empathy is entirely with Alcina, because she has been
allotted outsider status in her own drama. Everything is internalised and reflected contrary to how it ought to be;
Alcina is the author of her own misfortune, and yet instead of drawing the gleeful hostility of the audience, she
receives our emotional understanding, our complicity even. It is a wonderful psychological drama wrapped up in some
of Handel’s most magnificent music. Although every character receives some astonishing arias to sing, it is Alcina
who is central to this opera, she dominates it both musically and dramatically.
The plot is, mercifully for Handel, a streamlined and very comprehensible one, with love being its defining theme: Oronte loves Morgana, who loves Ricciardo (Bradamante in disguise), who in turn loves Ruggiero, but whom (being bewitched) is now in love with Alcina, rather than Bradamante. It is set on Alcina’s island, whereby the sorceress enchants men to fall in love with her and then transforms them into statues, animals, waves and trees. Ultimately her magic is undone by Ruggiero, Bradamante and Melisso, leading to Alcina being left broken and loveless. The libretto itself has an anonymous author (possibly Handel himself), but was adapted from the same libretto used by Riccardo Broschi (Farinelli’s brother) for his L’isola della Alcina, with the basis being Cantos VI and VII of Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando furioso. Alcina is the last of Handel’s Ariosto operas, the other two being Ariodante and Orlando.
In English Touring Opera’s production of Alcina, the somewhat lamentable decision was taken to not only cut the entire role of Oberto, but to cumulatively cut five arias, six recitatives and the sinfonia from Act III. The token gesture to the role of Oberto, was to have a young boy silently wander on and off the stage, thereby depriving us of his wonderful Act III rage aria “Barbara!”, “Chi m’insegna il caro padre” from Act I and “Tra speme e timore” from Act II. Even more alarming was the decision to cut the opening aria of the opera, Morgana’s “O’sapre al riso”, as well as Ruggiero’s stunningly beautiful “Mi lusinga il dolce affetto”. Some judicious alterations to the rest of the recitatives were admirably undertaken, but I consider it a great shame that English Touring Opera made these rather extreme excisions, no doubt principally with the aim of getting the performance down below the magic three hour mark.
James Conway’s original production, revived by Bernadette Iglich, works well in conjunction with the elegant sets designed by Joanna Parker. The drama slowly unfolds inside a room within Alcina’s palace. Central to the design is a fallen chandelier, but aside from some small items of furniture and a drape, it is a pretty Spartan look, which corresponds appropriately with the costumes of a Stuart/Cromwellian bent (as in Teseo), complete with a touch of arch-Protestantism thrown in for good measure. The special effects were less Sorcerer’s Apprentice and more Paul Daniels 101, with the magical re-awakening of Alcina’s victims at the end of the opera being achieved by turning on the lights in the auditorium, thereby implying that “we” the audience were her victims.
Musically it was very much a game of two halves, with the underwhelming mitigated by the extraordinary. Natasha Jouhl had the unenviable task of singing in this revival, when everybody still remembers Amanda Echalaz’s towering performance during the production’s premiere. Luckily for her, and for us, Miss Jouhl was every bit the equal of Handel’s enchantress, weaving her own particular brand of vocal magic that made you forget what had come before, and appreciate Miss Jouhl’s success for the amazing achievement that it undoubtedly was. Although her “Di’, cor mio, quanto t’amai” needed a more delicate lilt, a contented sighing quality that mirrors her happiness, Miss Jouhl’s rendition of “Ah! mio cor!” was not only the highlight of the evening, but one of the most sensationally delivered arias I have heard all year. She successfully captured Alcina’s twin feelings of grief and fury, with a stunningly confident display of vocalism. The natural construction of this aria, which tears up some of the vocal phrases into broken, gasping statements, can produce an electrifying result in the right hands, as indeed it did here. No less impressive was her recitative “Ah! Ruggiero crudel” followed by the aria “Ombre pallide” at the end of Act II. Here the punishing tessitura was taken even higher than normal, with no hint of strain in the coloratura runs. As well as a beautiful, gleaming voice, which was capable of introducing some exciting and quite fiendish ornamentation (I heard several unwritten high Ds throughout the evening), Miss Jouhl is an exciting actress with an intense look and stage persona. I sat in my seat utterly transfixed by her performance.
After Alcina, the next most significant role in this opera is that of Ruggiero, written for the celebrated castrato Giovanni Carestini, also known as Cusanino. In fact, Ruggiero has eight arias compared to Alcina’s six, which says something about the pulling power of the great castrato. It would, under the circumstances be appropriate, to cast a male soprano in this role, or a countertenor with a high enough range, but the fact is that very few of either voice type have ever undertaken the role of Ruggiero, which is surely a shame, as there are several such singers today who could do it justice. Consequently it has become almost the exclusive preserve of mezzo-sopranos. However, it does require a mezzo who can at the very least approximate some of the impressive attributes of the castrati, including a mellifluous and sensual vocal line, beautiful articulation of sound, impressive breath control and complete command of coloratura. In almost every respect, Wendy Dawn Thompson failed. There is something seriously wrong with Miss Dawn Thompson’s voice at present, with the overriding impression being that it lacks tonal weight, is hollow in timbre, lacks security in coloratura and possesses some evident intonation issues. The evergreen “Verdi prati” was simply dreadful, whilst the thunderous “Sta nell’Ircana” was all over the place. Much to my dismay the horn section seemed determined to outdo Miss Dawn Thompson in the woefully out-of-tune stakes, by fluffing their notes just at the point when you thought it could not get any worse. It was excruciating to sit through such a performance, which would be more appropriately described as a desecration, rather than a celebration of Handel. Despite all of this, Miss Dawn Thompson proved herself to be an exceptionally talented actress. Somehow, she managed at times to divert my attention away from what was going wrong with the singing, and instead to focus on the drama. Hers was the most credible performance of Ruggiero I have ever seen, which makes the vocal problems all the more frustrating. I hope that whatever is going wrong will be put right soon, as it is sad for everyone to see such a talented artist coming to such vocal grief.
As Oronte, the tenor Nathan Vale is proving once again that he is a fast rising star of the baroque world. I have had the pleasure of seeing Mr Vale on numerous occasions since he won the Handel Singing Competition in 2006, and have been impressed by his continual development. He possesses an attractive, quintessentially English-sounding tenor that is bright, flexible and very handsome. His singing was never less than stylish and his acting was highly convincing. I will look forward to seeing more of this promising young tenor in the future. Celeste Lazarenko sang the only other role which could potentially upstage the Alcina (who remembers Dessay stealing the limelight so convincingly from Fleming’s Alcina in the Carsen production in Paris?), that of her sister Morgana. The ideal Morgana needs to be coquettish, but tempered with innocence, as she is one of the few protagonists to have not indulged in deceit of some kind. On this basis then, Miss Lazarenko has done well. Vocally however, her performance lacked the shine and lustre that great Morganas can bring to this role. Her famous aria which closes Act I “Tornami a vagheggiar”, is full of pearly coloratura that tinkles like a baroque jewel, and which offers an immense opportunity for some exciting ornamentation. On this occasion we heard a very safe and perfectly acceptable rendition, but the sparkle was missing. Her voice however, was never less than beautiful with a surprising degree of warmth to what was intrinsically a very bright sound.
Carolyn Dobbin was an elegant Bradamante, singing with a honeyed and clear tone, but the decision to have her placed silently in the background during much of the final act, proved to be more of a distraction than an effective supra-narrative. She did however possess a solid technique with superb breath control, and duly brought off the demanding “Vorrei vendicarmi” in Act II without sounding as if she was gargling with a mouthful of marbles, which is ordinarily the case with most Bradamantes at this point. Neil Baker was similarly accomplished as Melisso, tutor to Bradamante, possessing a sonorous bass which coped well with his solitary aria. The orchestra under the baton of Robert Howarth, were considerably less successful. I have already remarked on the horn playing, but the strings also had their diabolical moments, sawing their way through one too many passages to be easily forgiven. The tempi were generally fine, but there were evidently a few out of place cues, with singers beginning either a fraction too soon or too late. It seemed to me a completely different orchestra from that which I had heard at the Teseo.
Under the circumstances I would normally give such a production just two stars, but
due to the magnificent assumption of the title role by Natasha Jouhl, as well as some sterling support from many of
the cast, it deserves to be upgraded to three stars. Hopefully, the more wayward elements of this production will
improve as the tour continues. 
Antony Lias
Opera Britannia
You can read the rest of our reviews from the ETO Handelfest by clicking below on the title of the opera:
To read an interview with James Conway, artistic director of ETO, please click here.
invited to join composer Anna Meredith, sound designer Sam Godin and the classically trained Indian singer Falu, in an evening where they can record Satyagraha-inspired loops that will form part of the “Remix”. 
even as warmly as they did to Thomas Adès’ The Tempest. Both these works were broadcast live on BBC Radio 3, and each of these broadcasts has been cleaned up and recently issued on double CD (Adès on EMI, 2009; MacMillan on Chandos, 2010). Both operas also have composers who enjoy successful careers as conductors, but while Adès conducted The Royal Opera House forces at Covent Garden, it was unfortunate that on the night when The Sacrifice was broadcast from the Wales Millennium Theatre with Welsh National Opera, MacMillan was unwell and was therefore forced to hand over the reins to Anthony Negus.
of recession by the magnificent margin of point squit of a zillionth, it was nice actually to encounter something quite so uncomplicatedly positive as her recital. Opera singers, in the up-close and personal context of a recital room, fall into extremely contrasting categories, ranging from the all-singing, all-dancing Ethel Merman-esque firecrackers (Cecilia Bartoli) to the half-barmy and catatonic (um, better exercise some discretion here, I suppose) by way of sassy, sweet ‘n simple, straightforward or sepulchral, the raunchy or the reverential, the bullish or the businesslike. 
Covent Garden, the Metropolitan and, as preserved on this DVD, the Festspielhaus Baden-Baden, each of the original directors was no longer around to supervise his show's latest outing. This matters less, of course, in stagings that cleave close to the scenic and theatrical givens of the work as conceived by Hofmannsthal and Strauss in microscopic detail, than in ones like that under consideration here that avail themselves of varying degrees of liberty and licence.
