Giulio Cesare is generally regarded as Handel’s foremost
opera. Some commentators hold it to be the best in the history
of opera seria. I won’t dispute that statement. For me Handel
is the supreme composer of baroque opera for several reasons:
His melodic inventiveness is inexhaustible.
Within the confines of the da capo aria he almost always manages
to find personal expression.
He is masterly at conveying the feelings of the characters in
the arias.
He even manages to make the secco recitatives come alive and
when handled by good singers with feeling for theatre they can
be wholly engrossing, not just a penny plain connection between
two arias.
The librettos may be dated for those steeped in late 19th
and early 20th century convention, where tautness
of argument and higher dramatic temperature are central ingredients.
The complexity of the plot may be a further hindrance to enjoyment.
Haym’s libretto for Giulio Cesare is, on the other hand,
a wonder of clarity and transparency and this is to a large
extent the secret behind its unparalleled success in modern
times. The first revival in the 20th century was
at Göttingen in 1922 – then in a heavily altered form – and
it was followed by performances in Munich in 1923 and a lot
of other places. There have been more than 200 different productions
in many countries. And there is no dearth of recordings on CD
or DVD, an early success being an RCA set with Beverly Sills
as Cleopatra. For me the 1991 Harmonia Mundi version conducted
by René Jacobs has been a faithful companion for quite some
time and a source of inspiration when I have been in baroque
opera mood. A while ago I reviewed
a live performance from Savona with an all-Italian cast. It
was rather uneven vocally; the greatest asset was the male soprano
Angelo Manzotti in the title role. There is a remarkable coincidence
in the fact that it was recorded on 20 July 2006, the same day
that Dabringhaus und Grimm had the last session out of four
for the set under review. It is a studio production with all
the benefits of excellent acoustics, perfect balance, no disturbing
noises from stage movements or audience reactions and the option
to re-record momentary lapses. And there is another advantage:
these studio sessions were based on a staged production at the
Thesaloniki Concert Hall in March 2008! I suppose this is a
misprint. If it is, this is the only error in this wholly delightful
production.
Rarely have I heard such committed playing from a period instrument
ensemble. Crisp rhythms is a cliché in these circumstances:
these players have a formidable thrust, an irresistible ‘swing’,
in the jazz sense of the word, that hits you right in solar
plexus. And it is virtuoso playing, to be sure. The brief sinfonia
in the third act (CD 3, tr. 6) just flashes by, full of energy
but hardly brushing against the ground. Throughout the performance
the orchestra creates a rock-steady foundation for the singers,
bustling with life, as though Handel provides the blood circulation
of the characters.
Just as vivid are the ‘dull’ secco recitatives, which are mostly
swift. When not they are permeated by drama and perfect timing,
as a result of the experience from live performances. In fact
all the participants are firmly inside their characters and
audibly happy, amorous, desperate or full of vengeance. Within
each scene the recitatives and the adjacent music are also tightly
knit to a dramatic unit. This is baroque opera without longueurs.
I can’t imagine a more suitable performance to convert non-baroque-opera-fans
to the genre.
Those still not convinced must be made aware of the solo singing,
which without exception is absolutely stunning. Technical accomplishment
– and singing Handel requires a lot of virtuoso singing, often
at breakneck tempo – beauty of tone and expressivity are characteristics
throughout. The two leading characters, Giulio Cesare and Cleopatra,
have eight arias each and the marvellous duet near the end (CD
3 tr. 23). Neither Kristina Hammarström nor Emanuela Galli have
anything to fear from comparisons with singers on rival sets.
Just listen to Hammarström’s coloratura in Empio, dirò, tu
sei (CD 1 tr. 5) or Galli’s Tutto può donna vezzosa
(CD 1 tr. 18) and even the worst sceptic must be won over. But
Canadian mezzo-soprano Mary-Ellen Nesi in the travesty role
of Sesto is just as superb. Rarely if ever have I heard Svegliatevi
(CD 1 tr. 9) sung with such flair. Irini Karaianni and Romina
Basso in their somewhat smaller – but just as important – roles
as Cornelia and Tolomeo are also on the same exalted level.
Tassis Christoyannis as Achilla displays such vitality and dramatic
insight that his every appearance is a gem to treasure. A former
pupil of Aldo Protti, a leading Verdi singer in the 1950s and
1950s and Karajan’s choice as Iago for his legendary first Otello,
he has learnt a thing or two about intensity in delivery.
My admiration for the Jacobs set is still undiminished, but
the present one is a knock-out from the very first bars of the
overture. By its side Jacobs feels slightly pale. True Handel
lovers need both and those who intend to acquire their first
Giulio Cesare are advised to start with this quite overwhelming
version.
Göran Forsling
Kristina Hammarström (mezzo) – Giulio Cesare; Emanuela Galli (soprano)
– Cleopatra; Mary-Ellen Nesi (mezzo) – Sesto; Irini Karaianni (mezzo)
– Cornelia; Romina Basso (mezzo) – Tolomeo; Tassis Christoyannis
(baritone) – Achilla; Petros Magoulas (bass) – Curio; Nikos Spanatis
(bass) – Nireno; Orchestra of Patras/George Petrou 
