(Photo: G Schied)

Händel’s “Alcina,” first performed in London in 1735 and based on episodes from Ariosto’s “Orlando Furioso” (1532), ranks among the composer’s supreme achievements. Far more than a succession of dazzling da capo arias, it is a profound meditation on love’s capacity to delude, possess and ultimately destroy. On the enchanted island of the sorceress Alcina, men who succumb to her charms are discarded and transformed into animals, plants or stone once their novelty has faded. Only when Alcina herself falls genuinely in love does the carefully constructed world over which she presides begin to unravel. The knight Ruggiero, bewitched into forgetting his former life and his fiancée Bradamante, lives contentedly as Alcina’s lover until Bradamante, disguised as her brother Ricciardo and accompanied by the magician Melisso, infiltrates the island to reclaim him. Their arrival sets in motion a labyrinth of disguises, jealous misunderstandings and shifting affections involving Alcina’s sister Morgana, her neglected lover Oronte, and the young Oberto, desperately searching for his missing father. Once Melisso’s magic ring breaks Alcina’s spell, Ruggiero’s memory returns, the sorceress finds herself abandoned by the only man she has truly loved, her powers gradually desert her, and with the destruction of the enchanted urn that sustains her kingdom, both her palace and her illusions collapse as her victims recover their human form.

Flawed Staging Substituting Magic with Psychology

Johanna Wehner’s production (seen July 16) consciously rejected the fantastical world that has traditionally defined “Alcina.” Rather than presenting an enchanted island shaped by supernatural transformation, she relocated the action to an ostensibly elegant villa whose refined interiors concealed emotional decay. If Alcina’s authority no longer derived from sorcery, it necessarily had to rest upon personal allure and immense wealth. Benjamin Schönecker’s sets may have aspired to evoke luxury, yet one Poltrona Frau armchair and a Wassily chair scarcely sufficed to disguise otherwise homely interiors that suggested comfortable suburbia rather than the domain of an all-powerful enchantress. The lavish floral arrangements were virtually the only elements that conveyed genuine opulence. Although the army of silent servants implied considerable wealth, the surroundings consistently undermined that impression. If Alcina was neither magical nor extravagantly rich, the production never satisfactorily explained the extraordinary hold she exercised over the men who abandoned their former lives for her. Still less convincing was the appearance in the final Act of petrified lovers restored to life, a vestige of the original drama that sat uneasily within an otherwise resolutely realistic conception. This fundamental inconsistency seriously strained credulity and ultimately weakened the production’s central premise.

The evening opened not with enchantment but with destruction. Smashed crockery, overturned furniture, shattered floral arrangements and an enraged Alcina hurling a glass against the wall were swiftly followed by an army of silent servants restoring immaculate order. It was an arresting image, establishing a household in which appearances were maintained with obsessive care while emotional catastrophe simmered just beneath the polished surface.

Throughout the evening, Michael Bauer’s atmospheric lighting created a world of cultivated elegance tinged with melancholy, while Ellen Hofmann dressed the characters in chic contemporary costumes that reinforced the production’s emphasis on interpersonal psychology rather than fairy-tale spectacle.

(Photo: G Schied)

Such an approach was entirely defensible. Händel’s opera is ultimately more concerned with emotional truth than theatrical magic, and Alcina herself is never merely a wicked enchantress but one of the composer’s most psychologically complex heroines. The score extends extraordinary sympathy to her gradual emotional disintegration, and Wehner wisely placed that vulnerability at the centre of her interpretation. Yet the concept ultimately failed to convince. This Alcina was neither an all-powerful sorceress nor an immensely wealthy femme fatale, but simply an attractive woman. Physical beauty alone scarcely accounted for the almost hypnotic devotion she inspired, nor did it explain the remnants of the supernatural that the production retained. In attempting to strip away the opera’s magic without fully replacing the dramatic logic that sustained it, Wehner’s interpretation remained caught between realism and fantasy, satisfying neither completely.

Less successfully, the production never developed much beyond its initial insight. Having established Alcina as a lonely, emotionally unstable hostess terrified of abandonment, the direction too often settled into routine. Characters entered, interacted briefly, delivered their arias and departed again with little sense of dramatic progression. Extended passages resembled an elegantly staged concert rather than fully realized music theatre. The galleries of gilded statues in the final Act—presumably Alcina’s petrified former lovers—which later returned to life, sat awkwardly within the otherwise realistic framework. Likewise, Alcina’s final retreat into a picture frame, as though transforming herself into a museum exhibit, hinted at intriguing symbolism without ever fully articulating its significance.

One admired the production’s visual sophistication and psychological ambition while wishing for greater theatrical coherence and more sustained dramatic momentum.

(Photo: G Schied)

Marvelous Cast

Fortunately, the musical side of the performance proved to be of a considerably higher order. Jeanine De Bique offered an Alcina of uncommon distinction, one that largely transcended the limitations of the staging. Eschewing the imperious grandeur often associated with the role, she charted the sorceress’s gradual emotional disintegration with remarkable sensitivity, revealing increasing vulnerability beneath an outward façade of poise and authority. Her soprano retained an uncommon freedom throughout its range, capable of sustaining long, luminous phrases with seemingly effortless breath control. Exquisitely floated pianissimi expanded naturally into radiant climaxes without ever sacrificing tonal beauty or textual clarity. In “Ah! mio cor, schernito sei” the emotional fulcrum of the opera, time appeared momentarily suspended as Händel’s extraordinary portrait of desolation unfolded with devastating intimacy. If the upper register occasionally acquired a slightly harder edge under pressure, this scarcely diminished the overwhelming impression of an artist who brought genuine emotional insight as well as formidable technical accomplishment to one of Händel’s greatest heroines.

John Holiday proved an equally compelling Ruggiero, combining lyrical warmth with impressive dramatic conviction. His countertenor remained remarkably even throughout its compass, the voice moving effortlessly between moments of heroic brilliance and lyrical introspection. “Verdi prati,” so often treated as little more than an oasis of pastoral calm, emerged instead as a deeply personal meditation, sung with unaffected simplicity, immaculate legato and a finely judged sense of inward reflection. Elsewhere, Holiday negotiated the more virtuosic writing with admirable assurance while portraying Ruggiero’s gradual awakening from enchantment with quiet psychological credibility.

(Photo: G Schied)

Elsa Benoit was an irresistible Morgana, bringing crystalline coloratura, infectious vivacity and impeccable stylistic assurance to every appearance. Her dazzling account of “Tornami a vagheggiar” combined effortless virtuosity with sparkling charm, capturing the character’s flirtatious exuberance without descending into caricature. Equally impressive was the emotional depth she later brought to Morgana’s remorse, allowing a figure who can easily appear merely capricious to acquire genuine dramatic substance.

Avery Amereau sang Bradamante with a handsome tone, musical intelligence and admirable stylistic integrity. Her warmly colored mezzo-soprano lent dignity and nobility to the role, although the tessitura occasionally seemed to sit a little low for her voice, slightly diminishing its presence in the lower reaches. Her heroic rendition of “Vorrei vendicarmi” was one of the highlights of the evening. Dramatically, her portrayal remained somewhat more reserved than those around her, yet her vocal musicianship never faltered.

Carine Tinney made an unusually strong impression as Oberto, transforming what can often seem a subsidiary role into one of the evening’s most affecting characterizations. Her fearless coloratura was matched by touching sincerity, lending genuine emotional urgency to the young boy’s search for his missing father. Rather than functioning merely as an episodic subplot, Oberto’s scenes acquired a moving dramatic weight through Tinney’s combination of technical assurance and expressive conviction.

Gerrit Illenberger brought quiet authority and sonorous dignity to Melisso. His firmly grounded bass provided an effective foil to the emotional volatility surrounding him. Julian Prégardien offered an intelligent and stylish Oronte, shaping Händel’s long melodic lines with elegance and sensitivity while investing the character with greater emotional complexity than is often encountered. If the more demanding coloratura occasionally introduced a degree of vocal effort, his refined musicianship and nuanced characterization more than compensated.

Taken together, the cast demonstrated an impressive command of Händelian style. Ornamentation was consistently tasteful and dramatically motivated, recitative remained animated and conversational, and ensemble was exemplary throughout. In a work whose success depends so heavily upon the ability of its performers to sustain psychological tension through extended sequences of da capo arias, this ensemble proved consistently engaging, ensuring that the emotional life of the opera remained compelling even when the staging itself faltered.

(Photo: G Schied)

Conductor & Orchestra Highlights

The undisputed triumph of the evening came from the pit. Stefano Montanari conducted with an instinctive understanding of Händel’s dramatic language, drawing from the Bavarian State Orchestra—augmented by specialists in historically informed performance—playing of extraordinary vitality, refinement and stylistic assurance. The reduced orchestral forces brought remarkable transparency to the texture without sacrificing warmth or richness of sound, allowing Händel’s orchestration to emerge with exceptional clarity.

From the opening bars, Montanari demonstrated an unfailing sense of dramatic pacing. Tempi were alert yet never breathless, always responsive to the emotional trajectory of the drama rather than dictated by historical convention alone. Dance rhythms possessed irresistible buoyancy, while moments of lyrical repose unfolded with natural flexibility, allowing the music to breathe without ever losing momentum. The recitatives, too often treated as mere connective tissue, became animated theatrical exchanges, shaped with conversational ease and an acute responsiveness to the singers. Throughout the evening, the drama seemed to arise organically from the score itself.

Particularly striking was Montanari’s command of silence. Carefully judged pauses became expressive devices in their own right, heightening anticipation before phrases resumed with renewed urgency or allowing moments of emotional revelation to resonate fully before the narrative continued. Such subtle manipulation of tension testified to a conductor thoroughly immersed in Händel’s theatrical instincts rather than simply accompanying a sequence of beautiful arias.

The obbligato instrumental solos were among the evening’s greatest pleasures. Händel’s writing repeatedly places individual instruments in intimate dialogue with the voice, and here those exchanges possessed the spontaneity and refinement of chamber music. The principal cello, violin, flute and oboe all played with exceptional elegance, matching the singers in expressive nuance and tonal beauty. These were not mere accompaniments but equal dramatic participants, enriching the emotional landscape with playing of uncommon sensitivity.

Equally impressive was the treatment of the da capo repeats. Rather than becoming predictable displays of vocal virtuosity, they blossomed into imaginative and stylistically apt ornamentation that illuminated the characters’ evolving emotional states. Both conductor and singers clearly understood that Händel’s repeats invite dramatic development as much as musical embellishment, and the resulting performances maintained a compelling sense of forward momentum even within the opera’s inherently reflective structure.

The Bavarian State Orchestra responded magnificently to Montanari’s direction. Strings played with remarkable precision and suppleness, articulating Händel’s dance-inspired rhythms with effortless grace while producing a sonority of striking warmth and transparency. The continuo group was a constant source of vitality, providing an imaginative harmonic foundation that enlivened every recitative without ever drawing undue attention to itself. Wind principals contributed playing of exceptional finesse, their finely judged phrasing and immaculate intonation lending color and character to Händel’s richly varied orchestral palette.

Perhaps most impressive of all was the degree of stylistic unanimity achieved. Although the Bavarian State Orchestra is not a period ensemble, one would scarcely have guessed it from the freshness, rhythmic acuity and stylistic confidence of the playing. Modern instruments were employed with an acute awareness of Baroque rhetoric, producing performances that combined the tonal richness of a great symphony orchestra with the agility and textual clarity more commonly associated with specialist ensembles.

Under Montanari’s direction, Händel’s score emerged not as a museum piece but as living theatre of extraordinary immediacy. Even across an evening lasting well over three and a half hours, musical tension rarely slackened. It was conducting of rare intelligence and imagination, consistently illuminating both the architecture of the work and the emotional complexities of its characters. One left with the unmistakable impression that this was not merely an accomplished performance of “Alcina,” but a compelling demonstration of why Händel’s greatest operas continue to speak with such immediacy to modern audiences.

(Photo: G Schied)

A Kingdom Without Magic

Ultimately, this “Alcina” presented a curious imbalance. Johanna Wehner’s production sought to replace enchantment with psychological realism, yet having stripped away much of the opera’s supernatural dimension, it never fully compensated with sufficiently compelling theatrical insight. The central premise was an intriguing one, and there were moments when the production illuminated the emotional fragility at the heart of Händel’s heroine with genuine sensitivity. Yet the execution remained uneven. Its handsome visual surfaces, intelligent ambitions and occasional flashes of inspiration could not entirely conceal a lack of sustained dramatic imagination or resolve the contradictions inherent in its resolutely realistic framework. The result was a staging that invited admiration more readily than emotional involvement.

Händel’s masterpiece, however, proved remarkably resilient. Few operas unite psychological penetration and musical invention with such consistency, and this performance demonstrated how completely the score can transcend an imperfect theatrical conception. The uniformly excellent singing ensured that the emotional core of the drama remained compelling, while Stefano Montanari’s magnificent conducting revealed anew the extraordinary dramatic vitality of Händel’s writing. Under his direction, the Bavarian State Orchestra played with a stylistic assurance, elegance and expressive immediacy that ranked among the finest Händel performances one could hope to hear in a modern opera house.

If the staging only intermittently achieved the sense of wonder promised by the work, the musical performance supplied it in abundance. One left the Nationaltheater admiring the production’s ambitions, but profoundly moved by the eloquence of Händel’s score and by a performance that reaffirmed “Alcina” as one of the supreme achievements of 18th-century opera.