(Photo: Anna Kolata)

“Amadigi di Gaula” was from Händel’s early London period. Like the much more famous earlier “Rinaldo,” “Amadigi” is steeped in magic, passion, and deception—its narrative shaped by baroque fantasy and underpinned by musical material recycled from Händel’s years on the continent. It is therefore fitting that this 2024 production was revived for this year’s Händel Festival in Halle, which explored the theme of “Young Händel.”

Under the direction of Louisa Proske and the baton of Dani Espasa, this revival reimagined Händel’s tale through a strikingly contemporary lens. At its heart lies the love between the knight Amadigi and the noblewoman Oriana, manipulated by the dark witch Melissa. The opera becomes a volatile journey through love, illusion, and power—revealing: a deeply modern exploration of human vulnerability and resilience.

The visual concept was boldly futuristic. The entire stage was transformed into a high-tech data center: rows of glowing servers flanked the space, pulsating with shifting hues. These structures formed a dynamic landscape where characters entered, hid, struggled, and sought resolution. Oriana’s first entrance, accompanied by her companion of charming young girls catching butterflies between the servers, evoked a Rococo pastoral scene reminiscent of Watteau. This fragile serenity was soon broken by Melissa and her dark followers, who stalked the corridors of circuitry and abducted Oriana, setting the psychological wheels of the drama in motion.

Proske’s production constantly played with visual metaphor. As Amadigi and Oriana—estranged by Melissa’s cruel deceptions—wandered in the technical matrix yet remained emotionally isolated, the servers blinked like silent witnesses. In a moment of visceral fury, Amadigi tore cables from a rack of servers, symbolizing his internal disintegration. Melissa’s eventual demise was rendered with poetic clarity: her figure slowly retreated into the digital matrix, like data wiped from a drive. Occasionally hovering drones added a sci-fi eeriness, while the performers wore stylized period costumes with fantastical touches—blending baroque ornament and cyber-futurism.

Digital projections were central to the storytelling, both setting mood and embodying the inner emotion of each character. The server banks and rear screen regularly displayed AI-generated images of the singers’ portraits that shifted subtly with developing plots. Through this, the scenery visualized the distortions of love and perception: at one key moment, Melissa deceives Amadigi by showing him a fake projected love scene of Oriana in another’s arms.

The final scene delivered a stunning but warm-hearted shift. Once Melissa’s power was broken, the digital realm gave way to a panoramic projection of Halle’s central Marktplatz. The city’s statue of Händel, clad in bronze, became the symbolic focal point. Extras dressed in modern everyday clothing strolled with shopping bags, took selfies, or pushed strollers—normal life reborn in the space once haunted by myth. The Händel statue, cast by a singer, sung a blessing to Amadigi and Oriana, leaving the audience with a sense of shared local pride from the city’s most proud son.

Amid this dense visual world, vocal expression took on even greater significance. Countertenor Benno Schachtner was a revelation in the title role. His voice, warm and burnished with a metallic sheen, traced Amadigi’s emotional arc with precision—from youthful devotion through tormented jealousy to final transcendence. In a key outburst, as he yanked cables from the server racks, his voice soared above the chaos with searing intensity—both fragile and heroic.

As Oriana, soprano Serafina Starke brought a crystalline sound and heartfelt presence. In white—in contrast with her dark surroundings— she exuded both innocence and inner strength. Her voice had a glassy brightness, but behind it lay something more turbulent. She sang like someone trying to believe in love again. Her reconciliations with Amadigi were never theatrical gestures; they felt tentative, cautious, real. Each note felt chosen, weighted with something personal.

Franziska Krötenheerdt, as Melissa, was a force of theatrical nature. Her soprano glinted with razor-sharp brilliance in the upper register, while her lower range retained a potent, desperate depth. In her standout aria “Addio, crudo Amadigi,” her twisting, serpentine phrases became the very embodiment of psychological rupture—chilling and tragic.

Mezzo-soprano Yulia Sokolik gave a compelling performance as Dardano, her timbre rich and grounded. She conveyed the character’s inner contradictions—love, envy, longing—with remarkable economy. Her duets with Amadigi crackled with emotional tension, but also something unresolved, tender, aching.

As Orgando, Deulrim Jo offered a gentle yet anchoring presence. Though a smaller role, her clear, lyrical tone provided a necessary touch of serenity at the opera’s conclusion.

Conductor Dani Espasa, reserved in manner but electrifying in performance, directed from the keyboard with infectious energy. He led the Halle Händel Festival Orchestra with poise, shaping arias and recitatives with elegance and precision. The orchestra responded with vibrant textures and supple phrasing, bringing new light to Händel’s youthful score.

The production was further enriched by the presence of the Halle Opera Ballet. Six dancers integrated seamlessly into the staging, embodying emotional currents and magical forces through body movement. Their choreography extended the singers’ inner lives across the stage, adding kinetic dimension to the psychological drama.

In all, this “Amadigi di Gaula” was a successfully unified vision—technologically daring , emotionally grounded. It reframed a baroque opera a living allegory of love and delusion, made for our fractured and digitized age. A feast for the senses—and the soul.