Pinchgut Opera presents one opera a year in Sydney, and L’Ormindo is their eighth production. This small but highly professional company is dedicated to exploring repertoire generally overlooked by the (comparatively speaking) behemoth Opera Australia. Rather than the problematic opera theatre in the iconic Sydney Opera House, Pinchgut performs in the smaller (1200 seats) but acoustically excellent City Recital Hall. The main drawback for opera is its lack of a proscenium stage. And in case anyone was wondering, Pinchgut is a name given to Fort Denison, a small fortified island in Sydney Harbour; it also apparently serves as a reminder that resources are not unlimited.

While Francesco Cavalli might be considered a rather obscure composer, he was hugely celebrated in his day, composing over 30 operas of which 27 survive. He is clearly undergoing something of a revival, as the last five years or so have seen performances of at least nine of his vocal works, the best known undoubtedly being La Calisto, splendidly done by the Royal Opera House last year. L’ Ormindo itself has had outings at Paris and Pittsburgh in recent years; it is probably safe to say this is the first production of it, or any Cavalli opera, in Australia. Happily, it is an outstanding theatrical experience. The challenge of mounting a fully-staged opera in the Recital Hall has been brilliantly met this year, probably Pinchgut’s best effort yet in terms of mise en scène.

Set in Fez, North Africa, the plot (libretto by Giovanni Faustini) is as convoluted as that of most baroque operas; their verbal description is often baffling but usually followed easily enough with a decent production. In this case, Queen Erisbe is unsatisfactorily married to an aged king, Ariadeno, and is admired by two younger princes, Ormindo and Amida. After some coquettish playing off of the one against the other, she settles her affections on Ormindo. Meanwhile, Amida’s betrothed Sicle is pursuing him in disguise. The lower classes include Amida’s page Nerillo, Sicle’s nurse Erice and lady in waiting Melide, Erisbe’s companion Mirinda and, of more intermediate status, Ariadeno’s captain Osmano. There is a narrative twist at the end and a lieto fine which sees the young lovers suitably paired off. The most developed character is that of Erisbe, who starts as a discontented and coquettish young girl whose playful flirtation is transmuted into a serious love with apparently fatal consequences. The lower orders, on the other hand, are there as usual to provide comic relief, comment on the action and behavior of their betters, and in some cases indulge in some highly decorative singing.

The production team (director Talya Masel, designer Adam Gardnir and lighting designer Bernie Tan-Hayes) chose to emphasise the north African ambience, with a tiered set representing banks of sand dunes, with the occasional palm tree silhouette. Trap door openings concealed behind the crests of the dunes sprang open at suitable occasions to allow the rapid appearance/disappearance of personnel. Behind the dunes, a blue flat represented the desert sky, darkening at the end of Act II (before the only interval) but lighting up with a myriad of golden stars. Some hanging microphones (for a radio broadcast) looked like trailing comets – a deliberate or accidental effect? Costumes were chronologically unspecific but vaguely oriental, with lots of colour, rich textures and golden thread, and colour coded – blue for the Ormindo “team” and red for the Amida side. In the first part, Sicle, Erice and Melide are disguised as gypsies and wear romany-style scarves. The princes, captain and Nerillo are decked out as something resembling foreign legionaries, while the king appears in a white suit and panama hat.

Musically speaking, seventeenth century opera can be a little dry for a modern audience. Last year’s offering, Charpentier’s David et Jonathas, was remarkable for the varied tempi and textures of the score; this work of the preceding century is far less varied in its tonal qualities. The original scoring – indeed the original score – is on the sparse side, with indications for only strings and continuo. Some apparent lacunae in the score have been filled in (by editor Peter Foster) with musical patches from other Cavalli works. Conversely, some cuts have been made, obviously in the interest of dramatic concision. Most are unobtrusive, but there are two of substance, one being the prologue which is allegorical, has nothing really to do with the plot and is clearly dispensable. The other is Nerillo’s apostrophe to the city, “Che città”, ostensibly Fez but obviously intended for Venice; while it too is clearly otiose to the plot, one wonders whether it might not have made a nice paean to Sydney.

The orchestra itself has been fattened up (although not to the alarming extent of Leppard’s classic but now outdated recording) with a pair of recorders, and a sumptuous array of stringed instruments: in addition to the expected violins, violas and cello, there was a lira da gamba specially crafted for the occasion, a violone, three theorbos (varied from time to time with lute and guitar) and a baroque harp, along with two harpsichords. Erin Helyard led from one of the latter, and coaxed out of his forces an amazingly sumptuous and sonorous realm of sound. One of the surprises of the musical performance is the tuning to A = 466, apparently common in Venice at the time of the opera’s creation.

A strong cast is led by by a stunning performance from mezzo-soprano Fiona Campbell. Often cast as a bloke (a common fate of mezzos), here she gets a chance to revel in glamour, in a low cut blue tunic with slit sides revealing endless leg. Campbell has a remarkably bright tone for a mezzo, and sang with unfailing golden tone. She displayed a very nice comic touch in the opening scenes (verging here on the vulgar in a graphic depiction of the failings of an old husband) and in the denouement, but really came into her own in the serious core of the opera. In realizing her love for Ormindo (“Che semina in un petto volubile”), she filled the auditorium with heartfelt glorious singing, and again in the (apparent) death scene, “Di te mi duole” was gorgeously plaintive.

Countertenor David Walker appeared for Pinchgut two years ago as Holofernes in a staged production of Vivaldi’s oratorio Juditha triumphans, and it is good to welcome him back as Ormindo. His singing is (happily) more of the grittier American style (cf Jeffrey Gall and Bejun Mehta) than the more limp- wristed British James Bowman school, and his stage persona suitably charismatic. Ranging from the robust ringing tones of the opening scene to a tender and delicate rendition of “Erisbe, aspetto”, he was an excellent match for Campbell (and had far the best shake).

Taryn Fiebig has been endlessly cast by Opera Australia in musical comedy, to the extent that she seemed lost to the baroque; her Galatea earlier this year at the Sydney Opera House displayed some unnerving vocal peculiarities. Here however her lovely pure soprano seems to have settled back into what some might think of as its natural vocal territory. She is always a charming presence on stage, and her role as Sicle allowed her also to display some deft comic moments. Another contender in the pure silvery soprano stakes is Jane Sheldon in the trouser role of Nerillo; not having otherwise much to do, it is a shame his major aria was cut. She did however liven up the stage with her quicksilver persona.

Anna Fraser is a soprano of darker hue, doubling the roles of Melide and Mirinda. As the latter, she was allowed the extended scena “Se del Perù”, commenting cynically on the perils of marrying an old man. This was extremely well-delivered both vocally and dramatically, as she sashayed through the orchestra (located on the auditorium floor in front of the stage) fondling the violinists, Erin Hellyard’ s hairless head (“vecchi, insensate”) and the neck of a theorbo (a nice Freudian touch). Another comic highlight was the performance of Kanen Breen, Opera Australia’s regular comedian, as the nurse Erice, which allowed full rein to his nasal (but always accurate) tenor and eye-rolling yet judicious campness.

Amida was sung by a very young-looking tenor, Trevor Pichanick, who sang and projected pleasantly but who was but a pallid vocal and dramatic presence in a stage full of forceful personalities. Even the minimal role of Osmano was well-filled by Andre Laptev with a ringing and robust tenor. Richard Alexander portrayed the old king, whose doddery state was quite belied by his firm resonant bass. One of the vocal pleasures of the evening was the nice blending in the duet singing (Orminda and Amida, Ormindo and Erisbe).

Seventeenth century opera, especially when it’s not by Monteverdi, is something of a challenge to modern audiences, given its rather different musical and dramatic conventions compared to what comes later. A comedy is also often a tricky proposition, making quite specific demands on the cast’s acting skills. Pinchgut has triumphed in navigating all these shoals to bring off a hugely entertaining and polished production, which makes the most of the comic possibilities of the libretto without neglecting its serious heart, along with outstanding musical values in the historically informed instrumental playing and singing and acting of the highest order.

Sandra Bowdler
Opera Britannia