(Photo: Felix Grünschloß)

One of the highlights of this year’s International Händel Festspiele in Karlsruhe was its new production of the composer’s rarely performed 1731 revised version of “Rinaldo.” Arranged for a performance operating on a smaller budget with a new ensemble, Händel made numerous changes to the original 1711 score, including a reduction in the size of the orchestra and the replacement of certain arias with those from his more recent operas such as “Lotario” and “Partenope.” The changes shifted the focus of the drama itself: the battle between the Christians and Saracens is pushed further into the background, as the military sounds are replaced by the tender music of love, allowing the emotional relationships between Rinaldo and Almirena, and Armida and Argante, to become the central focus. This moves the piece to a more intimate, inward-looking work. However, the magic that defines “Rinaldo” and promotes the spectacle that characterizes baroque theatre is still present.

Directorial Brilliance

Despite the rarity of a performance of the opera in its 1731 version, the production is likely to be remembered primarily for the brilliance of Hinrich Horstkotte’s staging. Taking responsibility for the direction, costume, and stage designs, Horstkotte created a colorful, entertaining, and dramatically strong production that was full of spectacle and teemed with imaginative ideas.

His presentation was founded upon our understanding of what baroque theatre means to us in the 21st century. Using the conventions, designs, and spectacular effects of the time, Horstkotte set his staging during the period of the high baroque, but only superficially so! In fact, the staging was used only to create a model upon which a present-day performance could be developed. He played with the ideas of the baroque, subverting them, adding to them and, on occasions, gently mocking them. At its heart, he took the fundamental driver of baroque theatre, namely illusion, and trusted the audience to believe, to accept, and to run with the magic of his staging.

The curtain rose on a stage that could be clearly identified as being from the 18th century. There was a slightly raised platform made of floorboards with theater boxes for an audience on either side, with a backdrop portraying a black and white picture of Jerusalem, with the tops of buildings, dominated by the golden dome of a church, positioned in front of it. It gave the impression that we were looking down on the city from a hillside. The cast were dressed in 18th century costumes, often with an ostentatious flourish or even a fantasy design. The main purpose, of course, was to represent the color and spectacle of the baroque. Almirena, for example, was costumed in a traditional 18th century gown, while Rinaldo was attired in a silver and red military uniform with a large, feathered plume on his helmet, and Armida was brilliantly dressed in the most ornate and stunning dresses imaginable. The stage was, in effect, a baroque theatre in itself, and the performance within it was taken directly from the baroque, right down to the usual spectacle with Armida arriving on a cloud, high above the stage, and Goffredo being elevated into the air in order to challenge her.

The 21st century, however, has at its disposal video and computer-generated imagery to create illusion, and Horstkotte duly made use of them to alter the background image of Jerusalem, which darkened with swirling black clouds and lightning strikes that set fire to the buildings. Other images were used throughout the performance; on occasions their meaning was obvious, and at other times they acted as a prop to the imagination or hinted at something more obscure. How should one interpret the image of the inside of an auditorium that slowly melts? Was it the demise of the baroque theatre that was giving way to a new form, or was it simply a reflection of Almirena’s tears as she sang “Lascio ch’io piangia?” It did not matter: Horstkotte’s staging was there to make you consider possibilities.

At the finale, the cast shuffled onto the stage and took up their positions for the final chorus. This was immediately interrupted by Rinaldo racing onto the stage in a state of extreme agitation and covered in blood. The cast were not impressed: he was preventing them from taking up their required poses and pushed him out of the way. Rinaldo was completely bewildered by their strange behavior: at some point he had stumbled into the era of Romantic theater, in which such posing was no longer the convention! Not only did it draw attention to the artifice of theatrical conventions and how we as the audience are conditioned to react to them, but it was also very amusing. Yet, there was far more to Horstkotte’s interpretation than even this.

Another theme that ran through the presentation was his view that “Rinaldo” is in itself based upon theater in a literal sense. He saw the characters as being related to specific roles, so that Goffredo was the conductor, Armida the theater director or maybe the prima donna, and so-on. No doubt there were other themes running through the presentation, but the mind can only hold onto so much in such a short, concentrated space of time. This, of course, is not meant as a negative criticism: far from it! What Horstkotte did was to provide layers of meaning with which the audience could engage, without the need to understand everything on a conscious level at that moment. It encouraged thought and reflection, and it was never at the expense of the drama. It was the sort of reading that helps make theater, in all its forms, including pure entertainment, such a worthwhile experience.

Alessandrini’s Elegant Reading

The musical side of the production was under the management of Rinaldo Alessandrini, who elicited a fine performance from the Deutsche Händel-Solisten, successfully underpinning the musical tumult that, at times, engulfs the theater with an elegance and refinement that one expects from a work by Händel.

Countertenor Lawrence Zazzo essaying the role of Rinaldo produced an inconsistent performance in which his overly dramatic approach, both from an acting and singing perspective, was as convincing as it was disappointing. At times, he captured his character’s highly emotional state perfectly, moulding the vocal line with accents and embellishments nicely suited to the situation. Too often, however, he descended into melodrama, over emphasizing his portrayal with over-the-top flourishes, heavy embellishments, and a reliance on stock gestures in which subtlety and vocal control were compromised. There were also instances in which he appeared to lack the necessary stamina in the more demanding scenes. Nevertheless, his expressively bold, if not nuanced, approach meant there was never any doubt as to which emotion he was presenting, which allowed the drama to remain focused.

Mezzo-soprano Valeria Girardello, cast in the role of Armida, made what must be one of the best entrances onto a stage that one is likely to witness. The bright golden dome of the church that dominated the skyline of Jerusalem slowly opened like the petals of a flower to reveal the witch dressed in an ostentatious golden costume as a storm blackened the sky. It was a powerful, menacing image that brilliantly captured her dramatic significance. Nor was it her only fantastical entrance: almost every appearance was designed to grab the attention. Girardello took full advantage of the situation with a wonderfully expressive portrayal, in which she showed off her vocal versatility, moving her voice with ease to produce pleasingly embellished lines, topped by an impressive coloratura.

Soprano Suzanne Jerosme produced an impressive performance in the role of Goffredo’s daughter, Almirena. She possesses a bright, attractive voice with a pleasing versatility, which she used to delight the audience with a number of wonderfully rendered arias that successfully combined her skill in portraying convincing emotional states with her ability to decorate the vocal line using sensitive embellishments, passages of sparkling coloratura, and perfect trilling. Her beautifully crafted vocalization and mimicking of birdsong in her Act One aria, “Augelletti,” were a real delight, although her presentation of “Lascia ch’io piangia” suffered slightly from the bright, piercing quality of her voice, which detracted from the delicacy of the aria’s deep sorrow. Ultimately, however, it is a matter of taste, and the aria was very well received by the audience.

Contralto Francesca Ascioti seemed a little out of sorts and struggled to convince in the role of Argante. She certainly made a strong impression with a well-acted performance in her eye-catching costume, and her singing was technically correct, but her vocal characterization lacked the necessary energy and expressivity to capture the attention, which was compounded by poor projection, and while her ornamentations were neatly crafted, the delivery was somewhat understated.

Having reviewed the performances of tenor Jorge Navarro Colorado in a variety of roles over the past few years, it has been notable the degree to which he has developed into a baroque tenor of real quality, evidenced by his performance as Goffredo. His crafting of recitatives was beautifully rendered to bring out their meaning and underlying emotional strength. His delivery of his arias displayed an expressivity that was naturally related to their melody and carefully phrased and ornamented to further the sentiments of the text, with the focus always carefully fashioned to promote characterization. He possesses a pleasing stage presence and was attentive to the dramatic nuances, even when not directly involved. His treatment of Goffredo was that of a concerned father, but he introduced subtle, amusing additions to the character, which broadened his appeal.

Bass-baritone Lisandro Abadie made a strong impression as the Magician, not least because he actually bore an uncanny resemblance to Händel himself. Although only a small role with one aria, he acquitted himself well with a well-sung performance that showed off his pleasing tone and neatly moulded coloratura. He also essayed the role of Araldo.

Una Donna, played by soprano Martha Eason, punted onto the stage in a gondola-type boat accompanied by cardboard fish and sea monsters jumping in between the waves. She also only had a single aria to sing, for which she produced a delightful rendition that charmed the audience.

This was a truly excellent presentation with splendid performances from many of the artists involved, but what will live long in the memory will be Horstkotte’s inspired direction. His name is certainly one I shall be looking out for with a view to seeing what other imaginative and interesting ideas he has in store.