(Photo: BrettBoardman)

Undoubtedly, Sydney is coming of age as a culturally vibrant city, with thought-provoking, often superior productions of concerts, musicals, plays and operas. This long-awaited but most welcomed process is well illustrated by two excellent opera performances within less than a week that would be hailed anywhere in the world: a few days after Richard Wagner’s “Die Walküre” had been performed by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra under Simone Young with outstanding success, Georg Friedrich Händel’s “Julius Caesar” has been premiered at an all-round excellent level by the boutique ensemble, Pinchgut Opera. (It is perhaps worth noting that neither of these productions were created by the nation’s flagship opera company; in fact, Opera Australia has not programmed either of these significant operas for decades in the Sydney Opera House.)

Pinchgut Opera has been presenting some exceptional productions of 17-18th century operas for over two decades. This chamber opera company is based in Sydney and regularly produces two operas a year with high artistic aspirations, under the leadership of Erin Helyard. Due to their arduous work, a substantial number of operas by Händel, Vivaldi, Cavalli, Rameau and others, never previously heard in Australia, have been discovered and premiered here. Earlier this year, they revived a previous production of another Händel opera, “Theodora”; now it was time for a new artistic venture, that of “Julius Caesar.”

By the 1723-24 season, Händel was well established as a highly sought-after composer of operas in London. As a German musician who lived and studied the intricate traditions of opera writing in Italy for several years, his pedigree was as excellent as his composing experience profound. The most celebrated singers of the time – mostly imported from Italy – were keen to claim his friendship and obtain parts in his latest operas. The composer (always sharp to recognise good value, whether it was about his financial investments or the ability of his singers) rewarded the best of them and wrote several great roles for the renowned contralto castrato, Senesino and the famed soprano, Francesca Cuzzoni – both possessing impressively grand voices and less appealingly grand egos, according to many contemporary descriptions.

It was thus with these singers in mind that Händel (by then dropping the umlaut from the “ä” of his surname) composed his masterwork, “Giulio Cesare in Egitto” (Julius Caesar in Egypt), which became so successful that it was revived, unusually, three times in the following decade. Although the opera is based on known facts, Caesar’s expedition to Egypt, the composer was not troubled much by historically accurate details; instead, he emphasized the best of operatic values of the day: heroism and triumph, loyalty and betrayal, deception and self-sacrifice and so on with his highly emotive operatic writing.

Production Highlights

On opening night, upon entering the intimate auditorium of City Recital Hall, an imposing view was offered of a section of an Egyptian pyramid on the right-hand side of the stage. Astutely, this single item of set simultaneously served two purposes. On the one hand, it established the historical and geographical background (Egypt, ancient times); on the other, it gave room to the orchestra. Instead of a wall, the pyramid was covered by a veil-like thin fabric, allowing unhindered sonic and visual contact between conductor, orchestra inside and the singers outside. The minimalistic but thoughtfully designed action took place on the left-hand side. The musicians were dressed in shades of beige and pastel coloured, comfortable clothes, while the eight singers wore ageless, yet stylish costumes with a loosely “orientale” flavour. Cleopatra stood out (in more than one sense), appearing almost in every one of her scenes in a different dress (set and costume designer: Dale Ferguson).

The multi-talented film, opera and theatre director, Neil Armfield had gained a lot of experience from working on small stages and he used the available acting area and the minimal props to the dramatic situation’s maximum advantage, even by positioning some musicians and Cleopatra for one aria on the left balcony. He managed to avoid the static feeling of many a baroque opera production, for example by allowing his singers to make small theatrical changes to their movements in the arias’ regularly repeated sections. His sense of timing was impeccable and he regularly permitted humorous gestures to relieve tension in or after a scene, as attested to by Cleopatra and her final aria, “Da tempeste,” excelling not only with her brilliant coloratura, but also with her hilarious acting.

Some of Armfield’s decisions fitted less comfortably with the established semi-historical background. The four sentinels, here dressed as military policemen wearing kevlar vests, there as security guards with dark sunglasses seemed like an unnecessary gesture towards modernisation, as did Tolemeo taking a selfie without any dramatic justification. Overall, however, the singers acted and moved energetically – not a given in traditional opera productions – and the flow of the fairly bare storyline kept the eyes almost as entertained as the high calibre singing and playing did the ears.

Illuminating Cast

“Julius Caesar” is an unashamedly expansive opera, its three acts lasting close to four hours in a complete performance. (I have strong memories of it, having played continuo cello in the brilliant Francesco Negrin production, conducted by the late Richard Hickox in the 1990s in Sydney.) In Pinchgut’s version, it was judiciously shortened; for example, the final act was reduced from its full one-hour length to about 45 minutes. Inevitably, some of the arias had to be cut (the best known of them possibly being “Venere bella,” which famously featured Cleopatra completely disrobing centre stage to take her milk bath in the Negrin production).

Nonetheless, the action remained tight and easy to follow, though Nirone (Michael Burden with his gentle countertenor voice, possibly the youngest member in a refreshingly young cast) missed out on his only aria from the original score.

The Orchestra of the Antipodes, Pinchgut’s resident orchestra was conducted by its Artistic Director, Erin Helyard. After some initial ensemble problems in the overture, they performed at an enjoyably high standard. The violin obbligato as Caesar’s equal partner in “Se in fiorito” played and acted superbly and their interaction made many an audience member crack up with laughter. The many recitativos of the opera were splendidly supported by the ever-reliable continuo section. However, these sections must be unerringly flexible in speed, energy level and emotions, since their text propels the story forward. In this interpretation, they sounded too often alike, almost as if there would not have been enough time or artistic drive to open up their versatile qualities.

Without exception, the eight singers did an excellent job, Philip Barton as Curio and Andrew O’Connor as Achilla in their lesser roles just as much as the protagonists. In Armfield’s direction, Tolomeo (Hugh Cutting) the eternal schemer, acted at the beginning of the opera, as a spoiled brat, provoking his sister, Cleopatra to treat him with disdain. By the time of his Act two aria, “Si, spietata,” his vile personality was fully revealed and presented in his powerful and convincing singing.

Apart from their individual arias, the most moving moments of the tragic mother-son couple, Stephanie Dillon as Cornelia and Helen Sherman as Sesto, came in their duet, “Son nata a lagrimar,” at the end of Act one. They both possess fresh and mellifluous voices, their ensemble had a good pace, yet plenty of emotions and was warmly received by the audience, as one of only two duets in the whole opera.

Tim Mead as the eponymous Roman general, appeared for the first time in a Pinchgut production. Widely praised for his interpretation of famed Händel countertenor roles, the strength and quality of his eloquent voice did not disappoint, right from his opening aria, “Presti omai.” Another aria of his in Act one, “Va tacito,” also featured a remarkably virtuosic solo horn accompagnato (no other Händel opera has a horn solo), with the soloist being even more eloquent in the da capo section’s almost obligatory ornamentations than the voice. It is perhaps an inevitable danger of presenting so many Händel heroes but Caesar’s arias, while always elegantly sung, did not naturally reveal the various emotional shades that such a complex role would require.

One of the most appealing features of Samantha Clarke’s Cleopatra was just the appropriate reaction to the events of the drama (and Armfield’s direction of it). As Lydia, deceiving Caesar in disguise, accompanied by the muses on Parnassus (excellent ensemble playing, mostly unconducted), she was naïve and alluring. At the opposite end, her desperation found touching depths in Act three’s “Piangerò” that Händel, fully aware of the emotional demands of the aria, wrote in the unusual key of E major. The human factor was delicately demonstrated as she took off her wig and expressed her radiating musicality with portamenti and absolute control of her tone in her lament (“Se pietà”). She gave a commanding performance throughout.