On a warm Friday evening in Riga I had the pleasure of seeing “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi,” one of George Händel’s more underappreciated operas, presented in a highly performative, yet self-aware, fashion by the Latvian National Opera and Ballet. Under the direction of Max Emanuel Cencic— a true maître de la scène — palatial authenticity expertly fused with contemporary candor. Spanning three acts in three hours — typical for performances of Händel — the small but united cast, along with a sensational orchestra replete with period instrumentation, examined class, love, duty, expectations, desires, fate, death, revenge, and the many paradoxes, similarities, and convergences contained within. With a set consisting of movable panels resembling the interior of a Tudor-era Hampton Court complete with Ovidian paintings (namely The Empire of Flora and Jupiter and Io) and period-appropriate costumes, Händel’s opera was brought to life through a blend of tasteful simplicity and extravagance.

Completed on May 7, 1723, “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi” was performed seven days later at the King’s Theatre in London (Händel having moved to England in 1712). Featuring some of the day’s greatest singers, including Gaetano Berenstadt, Francesca Cuzzoni, and Giuseppe Maria Boschi, “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi” became neither a hidden gem nor a prized one. Instead, the opera is exactly what it was intended to be: exceptional music and virtuosic singing, neither excessive nor underwhelming. It is immaculate storytelling for a single evening, nothing more nor less.

The beauty of seeing early operatic repertoire in the 2020s is that its value is no longer disputed. We are once again able to see the immortality of its stories and our world reflected in them. Early opera invites us to sidestep the indulgences of Romanticism, philosophizing of Modernism, and experimentality of Contemporary — if only temporarily — to instead reflect on the central question of operatic theatre itself, ‘What is its function?’ Cencic’s production revealed that to be revolutionary, contemporary productions of Händel’s operas need not be flashy, excessive, pompous parades of technological creativity and regietheatre over-zealousness. Rather, what is vital is a director whose vision knows its goal, where the technical manipulations of a modern epoch sit alongside werktreue specificities that reflect the composer’s ethos, and where these boundaries are continually made and remade. 

The main cast were seven highly responsive interpreters supported by an equally masterful array of singing actors filling out the evening’s allegorical festivities. Händel’s plot foregrounded the reason his operas have maintained their relevancy throughout the centuries, being a complex web of fallibility, dedication, betrayal, and magnanimity. In “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi” an easy narrative linearity is eschewed for something far more realistic: the ubiquity of human emotional volatility, our inability to control our reactions to external temptation, and the obstacles in the way of our pursuit of love. “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi” is also a critique of monarchical rule, aristocracy, and religious dogma. While the story ends on a somewhat positive note, it is not ‘innocent’ ending, and takes place upon a foundation of ulterior and hidden motives.

The marvelousness of Cencic’s production was in the egalitarian and decentralised relationship between the scenography (under Helmut Stürmer), dramaturgy (under Max-Emanuel Cenčić), costumes (under Corina Grămoșteanu), and lighting (under Romain de Lagarde). Individual creativity and collective storytelling combined to produce an evening of quality. Cencic created an artful production where historical verisimilitude and contemporary realism brought to life the prerogative of Händel. This is, according to biographer Romaine Rolland, the celebration of the beautiful, elegant, and virtuosic, and the desire to cultivate ‘fashionable good taste in the general public against that of the [intellectual] savant.’ That being said, at times Cencic’s staging also leaned into simulated sex, faux nudity, crass gestures, and BDSM between father and daughter. While the symbolism was clear, it was not the only, nor most effective, way to tell Händel’s story. Vulgarity, while popular today, is hardly fitting for Händel.

That the timbre, tone, lyricism, prosody, dynamics, articulation, diction, and delivery of every singer was masterful speaks to the bona fide sophistication of the operatic moment currently reigning in Latvia. For Latvian National Opera, being the country’s only opera house, the responsibility of artistic excellence as the national beacon for the art is not simply a need but an imperative. From Katrīna Felsberga (as Emilia), whose technical brilliance and dramaturgic effervescence rung with clear and powerful echoes of greats such as Beverly Sills and Elena Obraztsova, to Anna Amanda Stolere (as Teodata) and her travesti performativity where constrained emotiveness coalesced with an unparalleled attachment to kinetic melody, it was a paradigmatic evening of operatic ideals. In the titular role of Flavio, Remy Bres-Feuillet was histrionic, being excessive and flamboyant at times in a way that, though undeniably emotion-driven and energetic, lacked sincerity and meaning. He nevertheless succeeded in his vocal duties, maintaining a luxurious tone and easy spin amidst fluid lyricism.

The central cast’s other roles, namely Max-Emanuel Cenčić as Guido, Ilze Grēvele-Skaraine as Vitige, Daniils Pogoriless as Lotario, and Mārtiņš Zvīgulis as Ugone, were performed with technical flawlessness, proving their awareness of the many needs and requirements of the operatic thespian. Throughout the opera’s many displays of melodic virtuosity, it is hardly fitting to distinguish any one them, as every singer excelled in their individual capacities. The palpability of the cast’s devotion to the art was clear. What deserves approbation is the secco recitative (accompanied by the harpsichord) which can, under more careless direction, become shallow at best and lethargic at worst. Luckily, there is only praise to be given here: every facet of this production is a gem in the house’s crown.

Generally, the house is not a stranger to large-scale productions, but their performance of less decadent affairs is another story. Bel canto and late-Romantic works dominate their repertoire, rarely performing modern — “L’incatesimo,” 2019, is one exception — or contemporary works — “The Immured,” 2017/2018, is another. Baroque opera, while not unseen, is even less common. Cencic’s production is therefore something of a historical spectacle in its own right. Under Cencic’s watch, “Flavio, re de’ Longobardi” excelled in its scenography, music, and drama, while each and every singer shrewdly manifested the necessary majesty of Händel while affirming their own artistic competencies. Felsberga was the star of the evening. Her vivacious coloratura, rich emotional range, and penchant for technical finesse are all clear indicators of a fruitful career.

While some performers were less impactful in their duties than others, this comes down to the opera’s focus on Emilia, and Händel’s choices, which include a considerable dearth of memorable melodies for other characters outside of a few select moments. That every singer excelled at their musical duties, no matter how small nor large, is a sign that opera in Latvia is going in an excellent direction. An endorsement of Latvian National Opera and Ballet’s place among the celebrated houses around the world is warranted. I highly recommend a visit if one is able.