The Classical Review CDs/DVDs

Almost all music lovers love Handel, and an increasing proportion of them will take an appreciative view of his operas. But who, hand on heart, can claim to like their plots?

Winton Dean has been the foremost advocate of Handel’s operas as music drama and I’m sure that he, at least, would raise his hand in sincere avowal. But in the face of the network of relationships among characters who seem to elude certain identification I’m often tempted to give up and resign myself to simply enjoying the arias.

Flavio, Re de’ Longobardi is clarity itself compared with some. Even so, it doesn’t help that Vitige, male lover of Teodata, should have the higher voice, or that we are asked to believe that Flavio (who has appeared up to the present to be little more than a randy opportunist) should suddenly convert to altruism in the interests of a happy ending. Still, that is a not unfamiliar dramatic convenience, and we may have been already expecting something of the kind.

The score itself is another matter, and it can be said in defense of the libretto that it does one important job very well, providing the composer with opportunity for a variety of emotions which may be brought into a subtler relationship. In Act II, the opera comes close to tragedy. At its conclusion, Emilia’s forlorn Siciliana – ‘Parto, sì; ma non so poi’ – is one of the loveliest and most poignant of all Handel’s arias. Her other aria, earlier in the Act, is also fine in itself but gains in effectiveness by its being the first slow number in the opera. Up till then everything has moved quickly, often in jaunty mood with dotted-note motif.

The duets, always welcome in these operas, are placed symmetrically, one towards the beginning, the other near the end. Each character, including the two fathers, has a chance to shine in florid work, the one character who is dealt less than generously in this respect being Flavio himself. The two women, Emilia and Teodata, are the real centers of sympathy, and it is no surprise to find that Handel originally intended to make Emilia the title role.

In this recording the part is sung with charm and accomplishment by Rosemary Joshua. It is heartening that her voice retains so much of its early freshness; if there is any cause for concern it is that in the very quiet singing sustained throughout the long ‘Parto’ aria a slight flutter deprives the still lovely quality of its customary firmness. As her counterpart in the other main plot, Hilary Summers brings her deep tone and sure sense of style to the role of Teodata (though I would say that both singers were happier with their respective assignments in the splendid Semele recorded by Curnyn and the Early Opera Company, also for Chandos’s early music imprint, Chaconne, in 2007).

As the nominal hero, Tim Meade brings more nobility of tone to the part than it probably deserves. No doubt at the premiere in 1723 all eyes and ears were focused upon the great Senesino whose role was Emilia’s lover, Guido. Iestyn Davies uses his voice, higher-centered than Meade’s, skillfully and often (as in his angry aria ‘Rompo i lacci’) with a conviction which should convince skeptics that the countertenor can be an effective dramatic force. The other lover, whom one expects to be yet another countertenor, is in fact a mezzo-soprano, curiously paired with the contralto Teodata. Renata Pokupić’s forthright manner and youthful tone are gratefully heard. Tenor and bass are confined to the secondary roles of contentious fathers, Thomas Walker dealing brilliantly with his runs in the splenetic aria allotted him (‘Fato tiranno e crudo’) and Andrew Foster-Williams introducing a more than welcome depth and sonority to this score of preponderantly upper voices.

The conductor, Christian Curnyn, favors quick speeds without laying himself open to a charge of rushing. On the whole he lets the score, in the sense of the now generally understood style of Handel’s writing, speak for itself (one is much less consciously aware of direction than in René Jacobs’ Harmonia Mundi recording of 1989, where the conductor makes his presence felt in the very first bars). This is a particularly well-orchestrated opera, with a refreshing variety of accompaniments, all very finely played by members of the Early Opera Company.

Flavio is a work that is constantly suggesting riches beyond what the ear immediately absorbs. That, of itself, is more than enough to be going on with.

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