Monday, 14 October 2019

Agrippina

by George Frideric Handel

seen at Covent Garden on 11 October 2019

Barrie Kosky directs Joyce DiDonato in the title role with Franco Fagioli as Nerone (her son), Gianluca Buratto as the emperor Claudio (her husband), Iestyn Davies as Ottone, a Roman general, Lucy Crowe as Poppea, courted by Ottone, Nerone and Claudio, Andrea Mastroni as Pallante and Eric Jureas as Narciso, two freedmen servants of the emperor, and José Coca Loza as Lesbo, an imperial servant, in the Royal Opera's first production of Agrippina, with Maxim Emelyanychev conducting the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.

The opera, loosely based on historical fact, or gossip, as the case may be, and also reputed to mirror papal politics of the time of composition (1709, reveals Agrippina as a scheming and powerful woman determined to see her son Nerone nominated as Claudio's successor. She is married to Claudio, but Nerone is her son by a former husband. Nerone is portrayed as a weak-willed mother's boy, easily diverted from an attachment to the beautiful young Poppea by promises of power. Pallante and Narciso are putty in Agrippina's hands until they realisethey have been set against each other in identical terms. Poppea seems an easy victim too as Agrippina persuades her that the virtuous Ottone has abandoned her for political power - the very reverse of the truth. Poppea herself proves to be no mean schemer when she realises the truth, flirting with Nerone while Ottone is hidden in the room, and then with Claudio with both Ottone and Nerone hidden - bedroom farce as a counterpoint to Agrippina's more political machinations.

The female roles thus generate most of  the action, and almost all the psychological interest; the men in comparison are ciphers. The tawdriness of the sexual politics and the ruthlessness of the political game make for dazzling entertainment given the brilliance of Handel's music and the skill of the cast in performing it - in particular, Joyce DiDonato gives a barnstorming rendition of Agrippina's capacity to turn any situation to her advantage, while also showing the deep insecurities usually masked in public, but revealed by some of the more penetrating arias when she is alone.

The set (Rebecca Ringst) is a large metallic box which revolves to reveal compartments for state occasions or private meetings (including Poppea's blindingly white bedroom), while the costumes (Klaus Bruns) are modern to remind us that political rivalries, and the extremes to which power hungry women and men will go, are constantly with us. The audience is co-opted as the Roman crowd when Nerone attempts to glad-hand the populace, as he oils his way down one of the stalls aisles.

The singing was exemplary; the orchestral accompaniment marvellously energetic. The visual aspects of the production left something to be desired. Every salacious drop was wrung from the action, with Pallante and Narciso fawning over Agrippina, Nerone virtually humping Poppea, and much suggestive swaying of the hips by the latter in response to the rhythmic drive of the music. Some of this produced the sort of half-embarrassed half-sniggering laughter from the audience that one might associate with the telling of off-colour jokes. Only Joyce DiDonato's consummate acting skills, in which her contempt for the freedmen's behaviour was all too evident as they slavered over her, saved the sequence from being completely objectionable. I'm not sure that it does Handel any favours to turn some of the high note embellishments of the arias into cries of sexual delight, as Poppea tended to do. But this is the Kosky manner - I can recall my parents complaining about his persistent vulgarity in his Australian stage productions in the 1980s.

The question of tone is further complicated if one recalls events which occurred after the close of the opera. Agrippina succeeds in having her son nominated as the imperial heir, and appears satisfied with her triumph as the work closes. But in reality, Nero subsequently arranged for her murder, and eventually married Poppea, ousting Otto (and divorcing his current wife, Claudius's daughter), as one may see in Monteverdi's masterpiece L'incoronazione di Poppea - though that in turn finishes before the sorry denouement of that affair. Best not to brood on prior knowledge - just revel in the brilliance of the evening's performers.

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