English Touring Opera’s splendid Handelfest draws to its conclusion with their fifth and final offering – Ariodante (1735), a revival of James Conway’s plain and minimalist “Scottish Presbyterian” production, sung in English using Conway’s own translation of the Italian libretto.

Taken from Canti V and VI of Ariosto’s epic poem Orlando furioso, the story tells how Ariodante’s love for the Scottish princess Ginevra is almost destroyed by the machinations of the jealous Polinesso, whose advances Ginevra has scorned. In a plot twist almost identical to Much Ado About Nothing, Polinesso persuades Ginevra’s gullible maid Dalinda (who is besotted with him) to dress up in her mistress’ clothes and invite him into Ginevra’s apartment that night. Having witnessed this ‘proof’ of his fiancée’s infidelity, the heartbroken Ariodante throws himself into the sea, while his brother Lurcanio publicly accuses Ginevra of provoking the prince’s suicide by her immoral behaviour, causing Ginevra to be disowned by her father and cast out as a harlot. The nasty Polinesso eventually gets his comeuppance and is killed by Lurcanio while (ironically) defending Ginevra’s honour in a duel, and Ariodante himself returns from the sea – damp but alive – to reclaim his bride, once the whole evil plot has been revealed and Ginevra’s innocence established.

English Touring Opera prove once again that you don’t necessarily need big flashy sets and a huge costume budget to create highly successful music drama. Their set consisted merely of two large rectangular slabs which acted as walls that could be opened out at various angles to create several different stage tableaux. Behind these walls, a huge charcoal picture of an angry-looking sea was a highly appropriate backdrop and added to the bleak and Spartan atmosphere. Costumes were predominantly black and white; the two ladies in tightly buttoned-up Victorian-style frocks while the men were smartly attired in sombre black clergyman’s garb.

In the original libretto Ariodante and Lurcanio are princes, while Polinesso is the Duke of Albany – but in Conway’s production all three are re-cast as church ministers in a puritanical religious community. Despite my initial reservations, this concept actually worked extremely well and put extra emphasis on the characters’ repressed sexuality as well as creating a new subplot concerning their struggles with their religious faith. Ariodante rejects God in his moment of despair, tearing off the crucifix from around his neck and dropping it onto the floor – while Polinesso gleefully embraces evil and savours his fall from grace, the satanic mood further enhanced by some wonderfully evocative red lighting. Ginevra is not literally sentenced to death (as in the original), but is threatened with the equally desolate fate of becoming a shameful outcast from all polite and respectable society; little better than a common prostitute.

Revival director Robin Norton-Hale kept the drama tightly paced with some finely detailed Personenregie, ensuring there was never a dull moment. The characters in general were very well drawn with some fine acting on display from most of the principals. The minor character of the courtier Odoardo was cut completely, but this was no great loss. At the final curtain poor Ginevra is still clearly traumatised and in a state of shock, a far more realistic outcome than the standard textbook happy ending.

Musically, the production has a great deal to recommend it and the standard of singing was universally very high. In the title role (originally written for the famous castrato Carestini), mezzo-soprano Anne Marie Gibbons displayed some dazzling coloratura and a very impressive technique throughout. Her light, bright and pure-sounding timbre is perfectly suited to Handel and she is a wonderfully expressive artist – but my one and only ‘complaint’ is that to my ears she sounds much more like a soprano than a mezzo. Though her voice is undoubtedly beautiful, I found myself yearning for a richer, darker quality in the middle register and the glorious variety of tonal colour that mezzos like Sarah Connolly and Alice Coote bring to an aria like “Scherza, infida” (“Love undying” in this English translation). Ms Gibbons was at her best in the faster showcase arias like “Con l’ali di costanza” (“On fancy’s wings I’m soaring”) and “Dopo notte” (“Sorrow passes”) where she received tremendous applause for her virtuosity and challenging ornamentation. Dramatically, I didn’t find her particularly convincing as a man, and even the moments of Ariodante’s deepest despair seemed to be kept in check by a degree of ladylike restraint.

Ginevra was sung by Rachel Nicholls and the role suits her luscious, full-bodied soprano much better than Elisa in Tolomeo did last week. Some listeners may prefer a voice with less vibrato for Handel and the substantial size of Ms Nicholls’ instrument did sometimes prove cumbersome in livelier arias like “Vezzi, lusinghe” and “Orrida agli occhi miei”, both of which were rather clumsily executed and an unfortunate way to start the evening. It may perhaps just be coincidence that Ginevra’s delightful Act I aria “Volate, amori” was cut, but I suspect the rapid-fire coloratura would not have shown off her talent to its best advantage. Fortunately, Ms Nicholls quickly improved after this shaky start and her powerful and vibrantly rich voice excelled in the slower, tragic arias like “Il mio crudel martoro” (“All of my kind forsake me”) where her dramatic outpourings of grief were further heightened by some gorgeously expressive singing and some glorious, perfectly-controlled top notes.

Soprano Katherine Manley turned in an impeccable performance as Dalinda. A true, pure Handelian voice; she displayed a refined elegance and beauty of tone at all times, as well as highly sensitive artistry and a moving acting performance. Her Act II aria “Se tanto piace al cor” was sublimely heartfelt with some exquisite da capo ornamentation. The scene where she impersonates Ginevra was performed behind a wall and out of view - a sensible precaution against potential audience sniggering, considering Ms Manley and Ms Nicholls have such different figures that it would be extremely unlikely that any sensible person could mistake one for the other.

The role of the villain Polinesso was originally written for a female contralto (Maria Caterina Negri) but nowadays it is often taken more convincingly by a countertenor – in this case Jonathan Peter Kenny. In the wrong hands, Polinesso can come across as little more than a superficial pantomime villain, but Kenny’s dramatic portrayal was psychologically complex and disturbingly twisted. Resisting the temptation to overact, he gave us a baddie who was all the more creepy for his cold, calculating manner and subtle, understated malevolence. Vocally, Kenny’s countertenor was evenly-produced, if slightly monochrome in timbre. Sometimes his attack had a slightly “hooty” edge that was not to my personal taste, but his technical ability and prowess at rattling off flawless runs of coloratura was most impressive. He handled the rapid triplets in “Se l’inganno sortisce felice” with remarkable ease and meticulous accuracy. Interestingly, his Act III aria “Dover, giustizia, amor” was cut, but instead Polinesso was given the aria “Cieca notte” (“God of darkness”) which is supposed to be sung by Ariodante! Some liberties were taken with the English translation in order to turn this aria into Polinesso’s personal creed of evil but it worked from a dramatic point of view.

Tenor Nathan Vale sang with wonderful clarity of tone and graceful phrasing throughout. Winner of the 2006 London Handel Singing Competition, his elegant, stylish tenor is a delight to listen to, combined with an attractive stage presence and a talent for acting which made his Lurcanio a far more sympathetic and well-rounded character, rather than merely a vengeful plot cipher.

Bass Andrew Slater played the King of Scotland, re-named “Donald, a wealthy man” in the programme cast list. His voice is warm in timbre and very pleasant, if somewhat underpowered in the lower register. From a dramatic point of view he acted the part extremely well and possessed the necessary gravitas.

Conway’s English translation was generally accurate and intelligently thought out, although some liberties were taken to emphasise the directorial concept about faith in the new updated setting. The climactic announcement that Ariodante is dead - (usually sung in the recitative by the courtier Odoardo, but here reassigned to Lurcanio) – “è morto” was translated with the weak euphemism “He’s left us”, which robbed the statement of all its dramatic impact and failed to make it immediately clear if Ariodante had died or just buggered off on holiday for a week! All in all, the cast did a superb job of getting the English text across clearly so that most of it could be understood – but I remain baffled about a line in one of Polinesso’s arias, where he appeared to be declaring “The curry shall prosper on earth!”

Playing on period instruments, the ETO orchestra was skilfully conducted by Benjamin Bayl, whose tempi tended to be on the fast side but never lost momentum for a second. The orchestra produced some delightfully vibrant playing, barring a few scary moments with the natural horns during the introduction to “Voli colla sua tromba”. Ariodante contains ballet music at the end of all three acts and this was cut in its entirety, for practical and financial reasons as well as the need to tighten up a piece which otherwise lasts nearly four hours. The piece also lost four arias and the entire Act I finale (Act I scene XII)

Though the London run has now finished, opera fans will still get the chance to catch Ariodante on tour when it comes to Malvern (31 October), Exeter (6 November), Snape (13 November) and Cambridge (21 November). Ariodante is one of Handel’s finest works and this moving and thoroughly enjoyable ETO production is a must see in this special 250th anniversary year of the composer’s death.

Faye Courtney
Opera Britannia

You can read the rest of our reviews from the ETO Handelfest by clicking below on the title of the opera:

Flavio
Teseo
Tolomeo
Alcina

To read an interview with James Conway, artistic director of ETO, please click here.