LENOX, Mass. — Conductor Nicholas McGegan brought San Francisco’s Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra to Tanglewood about two weeks ago to perform Handel’s rarely given opera Orlando in Ozawa Hall.
Home of the Boston Symphony in the summer, Tanglewood is where James Levine, as music director, dazzled opera lovers in last year’s mounting of Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos. Alas, he left the orchestra after five years at the helm today (Sept. 1) to concentrate on his 40th anniversary at the Metropolitan Opera.
With so many period instruments dating back to the 18th century, Philharmonia Baroque’s authenticity in the Aug. 16 performance was never in question. Nor was McGegan’s interpretation. Orchestra, singers and conductor fell under the same brilliant label.
It was a great evening of song. One might even call Orlando a singer’s opera.
Handel’s time in London from 1712 until his death in 1759 was his most creative. He wrote close on 40 operas, umpteen oratorios and formed no less than three opera companies, none lasting more than four years. Twice he toured Europe to find excellent singers: the bass Antonio Montagnana, good in coloratura passages, and the castrato Senesino, adored by London audiences.
Had he heard the five soloists of this performance, he’d have approved most heartily. All night long they shone as burnished gold, and the orchestra, seated around an oblong circle on stage, two harpsichords end to end between them, accompanied with gentle sensitivity, as the singers unfolded the story about Orlando’s having to choose between love or glory.
From the start, South African countertenor Clint Van Der Linde as the knight Orlando filled the acoustically perfect hall (modeled after the Musikverein in Vienna) with such mellifluous tones of beauty that everyone immediately relaxed on hearing his voice. There was no doubting that this fine, handsome figure of a man, 6 feet tall, was perfectly cast; no “hooting” pipsqueak falsetto he.
In his Act II aria Cielo! Se tu il consenti (Heaven! If you allow such abominations), Van Der Linde negotiated Handel’s tricky twists and turns and runs galore with ease, nailing every note. Another test came at the end of the act, in his mad scene. Looking disheveled, he tackled seven different tempos and five separate time signatures like a champion. No breaks in vocal delivery, just sheer tonal perfection.
Especially lovely here was the accompaniment: two viole d’amore, one played by David Daniel Bowes on his 1780 instrument, and the other by Maria Caswell on her 1895 William Olds model. Orlando falls into a healing sleep, and restored to his senses, sings of “the sweet draught which invites me to repose.” It is a dream-like aria, delicately sung over softly plucked strings. One could have heard a pin drop. Van Der Linde’s approach to singing Handel’s heavenly music was spellbinding. Seconds passed before this knowledgeable and cultivated audience broke the silence with applause.
Singing Angelica, the Queen of Cathay who had rejected Orlando’s love, was the exquisite Canadian soprano Dominique Labelle. She was sensational. Her musicality oozes out from every pore, her every note beautiful of tone in its delivery. Though appearing to be artful, Labelle sings in such a way that feels wonderfully natural. And it is.
In her Act II aria berating Orlando (He cannot call me ungrateful), she is in an agitated state, as is Handel’s music. Labelle delivers a magnificent piece of coloratura singing throwing off difficult runs with flutelike precision, her breath control imperceptible. This aria is followed by Farewell, trees, a slow lament, sublimely sung.
One of the things that make Orlando so pleasurable is the way Handel’s recitatives lead naturally into his arias. The recitatives in this opera are songs in themselves. Composers of the 18th century struggled with how to tell their story seamlessly, in song.
Having gone to Europe to find great singers, Handel had to let them “show off,” and along came the ABA formula or da capo aria, in which the return of the opening material (the A section) is brought back for the singer to embellish. To modern audiences it makes Handel’s arias seem endless. One has to remember there were no 21st-century distractions back then, and this kind of vocal display was a competitive art form.
Fortunately, there are just three da capo arias in Orlando; the other 10 are in a freer form and make for delightful listening. Indeed, these arias are written with the voice in mind, with multiple opportunities for singers to show off.
Finding a bass voice to sing Zoroastro — as called for in the original — to tackle Handel’s difficult coloratura passages is not easy. The choice of German baritone Wolf Matthias Friedrich was a good one; he has the flexibility and the deep bass notes. In Act II, Friedrich was excellent in singing Through impenetrable darkness when he magically makes two lovers “disappear.” And in Act III, he gave an incredible rendition of An ominous tempest arises; it was remarkable to hear a baritone get a grip on Handel’s coloratura passages so well.
The part of Medoro, an African prince, is a pants role written for a mezzo soprano; in this instance, Diana Moore of England. Medoro’s Act II aria, Green laurels preserve our names, was sung with beautiful tenderness as she carved their two names on an imaginary tree. Moore’s height added believability when she enfolded Angelica in her arms. I heard echoes of the late Kathleen Ferrier’s timbre in her vocal tone at times (I speak from firsthand experience, having heard Ferrier at least four times as a young man in England).
Russian-American soprano Yulia Van Doren as Dorinda was very sweet. With a shiny silvery timbre, her voice is easy on the ear. Her coloratura passages, and she has many, were exquisite. In Act II, she sings The nightingale confesses his sorrow, in a beautiful blend with the violins. Here Handel imitates the heavenly nightingale on the violin, “pouring forth her notes with unpremeditated art.” The combination was a delight.
Exchanging cheeky glances with conductor McGegan in The winds of love turn on our heels, Van Doren sang some amazing flourishes and teasing diminuendos to long rapturous applause from the audience. Truly deserved. The trio, Be at peace dear girl, in which Dorinda discovers that Angelica and Medoro are lovers, was a magic mixture of women’s voices. One wishes Handel used this form more often.
A stage director was not named in the program; perhaps McGegan was responsible for movement. All four characters, except Orlando, were in suitable costume. Orlando’s white shirt with bishop’s sleeves and black tux pants make a mockery of his singing, in Act III, I’m grateful for my helmet and sword — which he never wore.
Lastly, however, satisfying semi-staged performances may be nothing compared to the Baroque’s deus ex machina, where gods descend from flying clouds, and mere mortals disappear through trap doors. McGegan knows this well, having conducted in Sweden’s lovely 18th-century Drottningholm Theatre, where such contraptions exist.
Nevertheless, this Orlando was a splendid evening of Baroque opera of the very highest quality. And most enjoyable.
Rex Hearn was founder of the Berkshire Opera Company (1985 -2009). He reviews opera and music in South Florida for Palm Beach ArtsPaper.