Political power-playing and its entwinement with carnal pleasure, systemic corruption, lies and deceit are spread across millennia of history and storytelling. And they certainly are painted thick in composer George Frideric Handel and librettist Nicola Francesco Haym’s angle on the romance – and strategic ties it aided – between Julius Caesar and Cleopatra in their three-act opera, Julius Caesar.
Recently nudging past the 300th anniversary since its successful premiere in 1724, Julius Caesar must surely be considered one of baroque opera’s most radiant scores, bristling with energy and dynamism along with its story that has intrigued generations.
William Shakespeare’s own related work had been published a distant 125 years earlier while Haym himself reputedly rehashed an earlier libretto set to music concerning the polarising Roman leader and royal Egyptian seductress.
Opening Thursday night, Pinchgut Opera’s new production achieves much with music and singing of sublime beauty. But pockets of questionable choices detract from director Neil Armfield’s overall concept that otherwise sports positive outcomes in its accessibility, clarity and directness.
First impressions are solidly pleasing. Set and costume designer Dale Ferguson’s lofty, diagonally-placed pyramid cuts into the City Recital Hall’s side balcony as an impressive feature, its upper part expressing the solidity of stone and its obliquely-set lower part sheathed in gauze to reveal the music-making of the Orchestra of the Antipodes. Set upon a stage of blond timber, the front of which incorporates processional-like access via steps, its Egyptian setting is simple yet striking.
Plucked from its 48–47 B.C. era when Caesar led the Roman army to victory in Egypt, folding director chairs and tables are utilised when furnishings are required in this contemporary-felt setting. Roman and Egyptian military are attired in tan and black uniforms respectively while a respectful sense of simple Western and Arabic stylistic differences are recognised.
Damien Cooper’s often soft lighting also helps to evoke the dry desert air and general exoticism. Crisply drawn shadows add to the effect. In all, it’s a handsome rendering.
Armfield shunts his cast on and off what is a limited performing area with great success and uses the side balcony and aisles sparingly to fine effect. While many scenes are highly imaginative, others lack accompanying actions to carry momentum through. With moods turning at whiplash speed, a begging existed for increased dramatic contrasts and effects – admittedly not an easy task when almost the entire opera is characterised by solo arias.
The effortless bridge Armfield builds to contemporise the work is praiseworthy. More damaging is Cleopatra’s confusing depiction that emphasises juvenile ego and frivolity over intelligence and resoluteness. It also diminishes the agency of modern women in power.
Australian-British soprano Samantha Clarke, nevertheless, sings Cleopatra’s music in starlit form with the vocal flexibility required to drive through a range of emotional states. And when Clarke sings a remarkably mellifluous V’adoro, pupille with such rarely heard purity and seduction as Cleopatra captivates Caesar – who believes her to be Cleopatra’s maiden Lidia – her vocal beauty seduces her audience thereon.
It wasn’t the kindest of starts for English countertenor Tim Mead on opening night, who otherwise strides into the role of a polarising Caesar, cutting an authoritative uniformed figure and presenting a voice glowing with impressive dynamics and charisma.
On opening night, Caesar’s Act 1 victory-starting Presti omai l’egizia terra unravelled at an unusually velocitous pace with music and voice in combat. But Mead moved on unflinchingly, making his mark with many memorable highlights amongst the high demands.
They include a fine and calmly controlled Va tacito as an inspired game of chess is played in the mind and on the table with Cleopatra’s conniving brother Tolomeo and a playful and invigorating Se in fiorito ameno prato in Act 2 to virtuosic violin accompaniment by Matthew Greco, who exits the pyramid to share centre stage. And the chemistry Mead shares with Clarke sparkles.
Fellow English countertenor Hugh Cutting is a formidable force as Tolomeo, who plots for singular control of the throne while manipulating the wife of Caesar’s decapitated Roman rival Pompeo. The dexterity of and intentions conveyed by Cutting’s vocal interpretations are outstanding and his character’s manipulative and dangerously unpredictable nature might have you making modern day comparisons.
As Pompeo’s grieving wife Cornelia, local mezzo-soprano Stephanie Dillon is superbly cast. Cornelia has a ton of weight bearing down on her and Dillon channels it convincingly with great emotion and deliciously dappled finesse.
Alongside the wildly dramatic gusto to which Australian mezzo-soprano Helen Sherman brings to Cornelia’s ardent son Sesto, a knockout avenging mother-son duo is carved into the work that looks to unseat the primary focus. Together they share that sentiment powerfully in the Act 1 closing mournful duet, Son nata a lagrimar.
Smaller roles are given no less excellence. Andrew O’Connor provides welcome, structurally-firm and nuanced bass-baritone contrast as the Egyptian general Achilla, while Philip Barton’s steadfast Curio and Michael Burden’s happily engaged Nireno complete the ensemble.
The always gem-studded sound that emanates from the Orchestra of the Antipodes under the leadership of Erin Helyard works its magic once again.
Swelling to 27 musicians, including a quartet of horn players in Roman tan creating clarion impact from the balcony, the score’s rich ornamentations and brazen exhibitionary qualities shine through expertly. Alluded to earlier in Mead’s opening aria, timing between vocals and music occasionally slipped, perhaps due to there being no clear sight between the two.
Yet, while mildly problematic – a closing chorus of poorly choreographed freestyle dancing takes the cake – Pinchgut’s Julius Caesar is enormously satisfying. Handel’s 300 year old masterpiece continues to demonstrate the enigma of art, artistic performance and the embedded narrative relevance it holds for today. And it also makes you wonder when power doesn’t look ugly.
Julius Caesar
City Recital Hall, Angel Place, Sydney
Performance: Thursday 21 November 2024
Season continues to 27 November 2024
Information and Bookings: www.pinchgutopera.com.au
Images: Tim Mead and Samantha Clarke in Pinchgut Opera’s Julius Caesar – photo by Brett Boardman | Samantha Clarke and the Orchestra of the Antipodes in Pinchgut Opera’s Julius Caesar – photo by Brett Boardman | Orchestra of the Antipodes in Pinchgut Opera’s Julius Caesar – photo by Brett Boardman | Tim Mead and Hugh Cutting in Pinchgut Opera’s Julius Caesar – photo by Brett Boardman
Review: Paul Selar