30 May – 7 June
When Handel’s Orlando was first produced in 1733 it ran for only eleven performances. The principal singer, castrato Senesino, was reputedly unhappy with the title role, its dearth of al capo arias and its unconventional use of the voice. Yet Handel’s extraordinary innovations and permutations of baroque form are integral to the appeal of the work, which feels fresh and unorthodox even today. It is the first of his operas to look deeply inside the heroic character, dramatizing a man’s struggle with his own demons rather than his external enemies.
The main challenge for a twenty-first century director is to create a credible onstage world in which human joy and suffering are subject to divine fate and the power of magic. Director Sinead O’Neill and designer Anisha Fields effect this by presenting the forest setting as a kind of surreal dreamland, permeated with hints of gothic horror. Tall green flats, narrow open doorways, an incongruous spiral staircase, a small white bed and trees suffused with changing light, give a sense of entrapment in the first two acts. This is accentuated by the near continuous presence of three silent and somewhat spooky female actors dressed in transparent crinolines. They prove to be the agents of the mysterious magician Zoroastro who oversees the action, manipulating the fate of the lovers. Andrew Foster-Williams, the only man on stage, brings a graceful gender fluidity and sense of mischief to this rewarding bass role.
The opera’s plot is taken from Ariosto’s poem Orlando Furioso, a simple tale of star-crossed lovers. Orlando, a knight, loves Angelica, queen of Cathay. She spurns him and, in turn, loves and is loved by Prince Medoro. Dorinda, a shepherdess, also loves Medoro. Thus, we are presented with a symmetricquartet of two requited and two unrequited lovers.
The singers are, without exception, superb. Beth Taylor as Orlando has a rich mezzo timbre with spine-tingling low notes and an assured vocal agility. She inhabits this troubled soul in each ill-fated swaggering gesture, taking us with her on every step into madness. The uncomplicated central couple, Medoro and Angelica, are beautifully matched. Katie Bray’s mellow tones have a sweetness that fits her gentle portrayal of the traditional lover prince, while Anna Devin’s fluent Angelica shows a woman of spirit, striking out for what she desires. Their wonderful trio with Killi-Ann Masterson’s Dorinda at the end of Act One anticipates the psychological acuity of Mozart in its balance of drama and emotion. Masterson makes an elegant and compelling shepherdess, a narrative foil to Orlando. Her vocal control is outstanding, particularly in the taxing aria, Se Mi Rivolgo, in Act Two.
Rich orchestration, heart-rending melodies and a fine balance between instruments and voice is a hallmark of all Handel opera, and this is surely one of his finest. One brilliant aria follows another; even the recitatives hold dramatic tension. Christopher Moulds conducts 13 musicians from the Academy of Ancient Music, and the energy in the playing is consistently exciting, driving the action forward to the final scene when all is magically resolved. After the psychological realism of the first two acts, the ending can feel a bit abrupt to modern sensibilities. But this is a production that stays true to the spirit of the piece – not an extraneous directorial vision imposed on the composer’s intentions. Fidelity to its eighteenth-century origins is never lost in an interpretation that feels at once elegant, witty and, at times, profound.
★★★★★ Ros Carne 3 June 2026
Photography credit: Harry Pizzey
