That Handel's operas, after two centuries of neglect, have experienced a huge revival of interest in recent years can be attributed to a number of factors. First and perhaps foremost among these is the sheer quality of the music: Handel's melodic gift is such that despite the constraints of the Opera Seria style (where recitation and aria follow each other in strict succession) every single aria has something new and exciting to offer. Another important factor may be the growth, over the last 40 years, in enthusiasm for early music in general - an enthusiasm which has led to more and more "authentic" performances on period instruments, and in particular to a renaissance for the counter-tenor voice. Also in Handel's favour is the star status his operas give to all their few characters - something which appeals to today's fashion for celebrity singers.

But perhaps most important in securing the lasting popularity of these masterpieces is the prevalence of stylish, interesting productions such as this one, originally conceived for Glyndebourne by Jean-Marie Villégier. Rodelinda's improbable plot, of warring kings and desperate lovers, is essentially both timeless and place-less, thus offering a blank slate upon which a director can exercise his imagination. Villégier transports us into a dark, seedy world of cocktail dresses and Nazi uniforms which, while reasonably incomprehensible, at least looks spectacular: the costumes are particularly sumptuous.
Handel's long, da capo arias - often involving one character singing alone on stage for up to ten minutes - test the ingenuity of any director. But they also provide a great opportunity to draw the audience into closer empathy with the characters, offering as they do extended snap-shots of the emotions of each.

On the whole this production is successful: Emma Bell, particularly, conveyed great emotional depth in the title role, and the antics which accompanied Unulfo's (Matthew White's) arias were appropriately amusing. Some of the cast, however, looked rather uncomfortable performing their allotted actions. This was especially true of Robin Blaze (as Bertarido); quite why he had to writhe around on the floor for so much of the piece never became clear.

These long arias are also usually highly virtuosic, and require singers of no uncommon ability. By and large the women got the better of the men in this regard, though there were moments of brilliance from Matthew White, from Jonathan Best as the villainous Garibaldo, and especially from Robin Blaze, whose vocal pyrotechnics in his final "Vivi tirrano" justifiably stopped the show. But to some extent all performances suffered by comparison to Emma Bell's, whose Rodelinda was exceptional: her graceful stage presence delighted the eye, while her formidable singing - by turns emotional and agile, powerful then exquisitely delicate - astounded the ear.

A bit more rehearsal might not go amiss in places, and some of the "business" during arias really does need changing: the singers looked frequently as if they had been squeezed uncomfortably into actions which were designed with other performers in mind. But this is, at least, a visually intriguing production; and some sublime music, expertly sung, makes it well worth seeing.

Matthew Rogers, 29 / 11 / 01