Rehearsal of Giulio Cesare – Horror that takes Handel with snakes, grief and mother | Opera

THe found Handel at the height of his fame in 1724. Giulio Cesare, written for a carefully selected group of excellent musicians, may not have the emotional depth of Tamerlano, another play of the year, but rarely has the composer come up with such a problem. The gung-ho story of conquering the colonialists, is ready to send politicians and eager to intervene. Here, however, David Alden disagrees an attempt to undermine Trump’s interests in a Kafkaesque production that takes a different approach.

For an opera that is often played as a comedy, Alden’s world of body bags and refugees is very dark. Cesare at first seems more interested in his war records than sleeping with the enemy. Cleopatra settles on a donkey while her servant is, inexplicably, a real mother. Tolomeo the elder urinates in the toilet while his mistress sits in a nearby bath and Cornelia, the brutally mutilated widow of Pompey the Great, is beaten and surrounded until she turns to the bottle.

Despite the attempted rape and sexual intercourse, there are many gags, even the darkest humor, including the terrifying scenes that take place in and around a tank full of snakes. Va tacito e nascosto is set up as a game of musical chairs with Alden adding a dollop of slapstick by having Cesare’s lovers stare at the conference table, victims of Tolomeo’s poisoned drinks and nibbles.

The design is impressive. Tim Mead is donaty Cesare, his burnt-out handler who lends the role to a refreshingly emotional show. Sarah Brady brings a touch of Sally Bowles to Cleopatra. He is no twittering songbird; instead, her bright, fast soprano rests on emotional lines. Da tempeste il legno infranto is a show.

Jess Dandy makes a romantic Cornelia, digging into her middle register as a haunting cry illuminates her emotional journey. He’s a perfect match for Zheng Jiang’s flamboyant Sesto, whose transformation from public school kid to bloodthirsty quarterback is one of Alden’s earliest touches. Their moving flowers, Son nata a lagrimar are breathtaking.

Hugh Cutting churns out a storm of coloratura like a butter-can’t-melt-in-his-mouth Tolomeo, James Atkinson is a sad, sad Achilla and Tristan Hambleton’s wonderfully dramatic Curio. Like the woman mentioned above, planter Owen Willetts achieves the seemingly impossible by crossing his list of bandages.

The visuals, Jon Morrell’s costumes and improvisational costumes are brilliantly lit by Matthew Richardson, and there is choreography by Tim Claydon and a troupe of serpentine dancers. Of particular interest is Christian Curnyn’s performance of the Early Exercises. Opera The company, which usually leaves it to the musicians to bring the music.