Ariodante Review: Handel's Masterpiece Tarnished by Dysfunctional Royalty
George Frideric Handel's Ariodante premiered at Covent Garden in 1735, a venue now home to the Royal Opera House. The opera's director, Jetske Mijnssen, takes a refreshingly unorthodox approach to Handel's classic tale of love and betrayal.
The royal family at the centre of the story is woefully dysfunctional. Ailing King Icaro is surrounded by his children – daughters Ginevra and Dalinda, and their suitors Polinesso and Ariodante. The overture sets the tone for a chaotic household where designer dresses are carelessly discarded like they're going out of style.
Costume designer Uta Meenen's creations add to the sense of disarray, with Spoilt Princess Ginevra throwing lavish gowns around like confetti. Meanwhile, Ariodante seems initially destined for Polinesso rather than his playful but earnest suitor Ariodante. As the story unfolds, however, all five characters must confront their own shortcomings and learn to grow up.
Mijnssen's staging is detailed and intense, even extending to the silent uniformed staff struggling to cope with the young royals' thoughtlessness. The cast delivers strong performances across the board, particularly from Christophe Dumaux as Polinesso and Ed Lyon as Luciano.
The mezzo-soprano Emily D'Angelo shines in Ariodante's long, introspective scenes, but her voice sometimes struggles to cut through the orchestral instrumentation. Jacquelyn Stucker also impresses as Ginevra, though her singing feels curiously text-driven.
Conductor Stefano Montanari injects an inventive and dynamic energy into the performance, often incorporating chamber organ and theorbo in a way that's both striking and self-consciously so. While this approach can be thrilling at times, it also leaves little room for the singers to breathe.
Ultimately, Mijnssen's Ariodante feels like two competing visions: one is Handel's timeless masterpiece, while the other is a disjunct, sometimes self-indulgent staging that prioritizes dramatic flair over musical nuance. While neither approach is entirely successful, this production remains worth seeing for its bold experimentations and strong performances from the cast.
George Frideric Handel's Ariodante premiered at Covent Garden in 1735, a venue now home to the Royal Opera House. The opera's director, Jetske Mijnssen, takes a refreshingly unorthodox approach to Handel's classic tale of love and betrayal.
The royal family at the centre of the story is woefully dysfunctional. Ailing King Icaro is surrounded by his children – daughters Ginevra and Dalinda, and their suitors Polinesso and Ariodante. The overture sets the tone for a chaotic household where designer dresses are carelessly discarded like they're going out of style.
Costume designer Uta Meenen's creations add to the sense of disarray, with Spoilt Princess Ginevra throwing lavish gowns around like confetti. Meanwhile, Ariodante seems initially destined for Polinesso rather than his playful but earnest suitor Ariodante. As the story unfolds, however, all five characters must confront their own shortcomings and learn to grow up.
Mijnssen's staging is detailed and intense, even extending to the silent uniformed staff struggling to cope with the young royals' thoughtlessness. The cast delivers strong performances across the board, particularly from Christophe Dumaux as Polinesso and Ed Lyon as Luciano.
The mezzo-soprano Emily D'Angelo shines in Ariodante's long, introspective scenes, but her voice sometimes struggles to cut through the orchestral instrumentation. Jacquelyn Stucker also impresses as Ginevra, though her singing feels curiously text-driven.
Conductor Stefano Montanari injects an inventive and dynamic energy into the performance, often incorporating chamber organ and theorbo in a way that's both striking and self-consciously so. While this approach can be thrilling at times, it also leaves little room for the singers to breathe.
Ultimately, Mijnssen's Ariodante feels like two competing visions: one is Handel's timeless masterpiece, while the other is a disjunct, sometimes self-indulgent staging that prioritizes dramatic flair over musical nuance. While neither approach is entirely successful, this production remains worth seeing for its bold experimentations and strong performances from the cast.