By George Frederic Handel

Libretto by Vincenzo Grimani

Directed by David McVicar

London Coliseum

February 05 – March 03 2007

Review by Mary Couzens

Ottone & Poppea

One of the beauties of Handel's first great opera, Agrippina is that its characters could be seen as metaphors for power hungry individuals or regimes of any place or time. First there is Agrippina herself, incomparable in every way, especially in her own eyes, which of course, makes her very powerful as well as dangerous. Claudio, her husband, is an emperor who roars but doesn't really have much bite. Her spoiled teenage son from a previous marriage, Nerone aka Nero wants only to rule the Roman Empire with the help of his scheming mother. Man and boy both idolise voluptuous young Poppea, though she claims romantic allegiance to Ottone, the commander Claudio deems his successor in a rare moment of gratitude for saving his life. Agrippina's post boy toys general Pallante and Narcisco the politician would both do anything to win her favours, as opposed to favour, as they care little for what she thinks of them, as long as they can bed her. Their ‘queen' Agrippina will stop at nothing to secure the imperial throne for Nerone.

Nerone

The proceedings begins on a grand scale, with all of the characters resting casually atop what appear to be monument bases, inscribed with their names. Once we've had a chance to access them, their plinths are cleared, granting centre stage to the title character. The opera itself starts on an ominous note with gloriously treacherous Agrippina (Sarah Connolly) slinking her way towards the front of the stage in silky black nightdress and dressing gown. Her measured gait contrasts with the sweeping tempo of Handal's majestic overture. It is obvious that she is a carnivore, for as she tosses her auburn mane, her blood red lips arch in a ruthless, self-satisfied grin.

Claudio & Agippina

Sarah Connolly makes an incomparable Agrippina, whose stone-heartedness seems quite capable of causing murders. And, judging by rapt audience response, her amazing voice sent chills straight up many spines. Christine Rice, in the role of Agrippina's son Nerone gives a similarly memorable performance, singing with amazing range and enthusiasm, whilst managing to incorporate suitably teenage male posturing and attitude into her portrayal. The unforgettable scenes involving either or both of these talented performers are far too numerous to mention here. As Claudio, Brindley Sherratt's singing is much more forceful and compelling than his character's resolve against his familial adversaries. Lucy Crowe also shines in the pivotal role of Poppea, the woman whichever men aren't panting for Agrippa desire. Her timing, during a comedic scene in which she sulks following a falling out with her lover Ottone (Reno Troilus) is a delight, as her acting and vocal skills are on top form. Her partner Troilus' voice is gently lilting, lending a note of poignancy to the words of love he sings to his Poppea. Henry Waddington and Stephen Wallace are very funny as Agrippa's would-be suitors, and both lend distinctive quirks and attitudes to their characters. Richard Stuart plays Claudio's nosy, creature-like servant Lesbo with Dickensian flair.

general Pallante and Narcisco the politician

The silent chorus play an active role, not merely appearing as a generic crowd, but taking distinctively separate parts, playing, in one entertaining scene, individuals enjoying a night out in an upmarket cocktail bar, getting noticeably drunker as the scene progresses. This was the first opera that I've attended in which seemingly spontaneous dancing inspired mid-scene applause, thanks to the naturalistic Choreography of Andrew George. It also seemed as though Director David Mc Vicar was seizing upon an opportunity to nod at contemporary culture in the guise of the public's current obsession with voyeuristic viewing. However, the production is filled with wonderfully pertinent splashes of intertextuality, which add welcome colour as well as widespread laughter of recognition. Sculptural sets designed by John McFarlane are used to their fullest potential, although they are in and of themselves, more suggestive than overwhelming, allowing scope for imaginative projecting. Costumes by Deborah Andrews reflect late Twentieth-century power dressing. Conductor Daniel Reuss accompanied the cast for well deserved, multiple curtain calls at the end of the performance.

Although Handel's Agrippina takes artistic liberties in terms of time frame in relation to its characters, historically, their basic traits remain the same, and juxtaposing them in fictional scenarios makes for compelling results. In addition to its great dramatic and humorous moments, the opera has more than enough meaty arias to go around, and a cast well up to the emotional and physical challenges they present. Under the attentive directing of David McVicar, the opera manages to scale heights it would no doubt have sidestepped were it presented in a more traditional format. Agrippina's nineties flavoured irony centres on several cleverly devised ‘before and after' spins which allow for ever-shifting perspectives, enabling its lengthily content to seem all too brief.

February 05 | 08 | 10 | 15 | 17 | 21 | 23 | March 01 | 03

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