Handel’s 
                  Giulio Cesare - the full title is Giulio Cesare in 
                  Egitto - is one of the composer’s longest and most musically 
                  successful operas, chock full of delightful arias. First performed 
                  in 1724, it tells the story of Julius Caesar attempting to take 
                  control of Egypt. This production, set in a different imperial time - 
                  when the British were there - combines both the sedate and the 
                  extravagant to tell this story of Caesar’s attempt to defeat 
                  his enemy Pompey.
                As 
                  usual, William Christie's impeccable musicianship makes this 
                  work an aural delight, and his choice of soloists is impeccable. 
                  Sarah Connolly is brilliant as Caesar, looking quite masculine, 
                  actually, and embracing the role with a unique level of subtlety. 
                  Danielle de Niese as Cleopatra is sexy and enticing, though 
                  her “acting” tends to go a bit overboard at times - one is reminded 
                  of silent movies, and how actors, with no words to express their 
                  feelings, had nothing else to work with. Niese would have been 
                  far more convincing with a bit of restraint, though her facial 
                  contortions may not have been as evident to theatre-goers watching 
                  the actual opera. This is one of the risks of watching operas 
                  on DVD: close-ups give a totally different view of the stage 
                  action, and skew it toward a televisual interpretation, rather 
                  than a view of a distant stage. 
                The 
                  pair of Cornelia (Patricia Bardon) and her son Sesto (Angelika 
                  Kirchschlager) are excellent, especially Kirchschlager in his 
                  (her) search for revenge and eventual success.  And Christophe 
                  Dumaux is a fine, sneering Tolomeo.
                While 
                  one reviewer of the original production called this an “amalgam 
                  of political psychodrama and Bollywood musical”, David McVicar’s 
                  staging, in my opinion, sits on the fence between sedate and 
                  exaggerated, with scenes of swordplay, gritty costumes, blood 
                  and bodies. Ranging from slapstick to humorous, from serious 
                  to sedate, he avoids the overly cute type of production often 
                  seen in operas today, and the transposition from the original 
                  era of Caesar to the British Imperial period, is both successful 
                  and contextually functional. Making the link between the Handel 
                  of Italian operas - in language and in subject - and his Britishness 
                  - as a composer and performer living in England for much 
                  of his life - this Giulio Cesare works both as music 
                  and theatre.
                The 
                  camera work is sedate, and avoids the oft-used “arty” angles 
                  and cuts that some modern productions seem to require to attract 
                  the MTV generation. This work is filmed with great taste, more 
                  like theatre than a musical production. 
                I 
                  do have one gripe, and this is the curmudgeon in me reacting 
                  not only to this film, but to operas in general these days: 
                  why do the audience feel it necessary to applaud after almost 
                  every aria? Can’t they wait until the end, or at least the end 
                  of each act? This is becoming increasingly common both on DVDs 
                  and on recordings of operas, and, while it gives more of a “live” 
                  feeling, it grates.
                This 
                  is a long opera, though, coming in at just under four hours, 
                  and is unlikely to be something that you’ll watch in one sitting. 
                  “Four hours of Handel, in the wrong hands, can be a trial,” 
                  says Sarah Connolly in the documentary about the work. While 
                  it engages and, at times entrances, even this fine production 
                  cannot keep one from wanting to take a break after a couple 
                  of hours. It’s not a trial, but it is indeed long. Successful 
                  musically - and this certainly deserves a CD release - and theatrically, 
                  this work is in danger of feeling interminable after a while. 
                  Take two evenings to watch it, and another, perhaps, to watch 
                  the “extra features”: a documentary in the “making-of” style 
                  about the cast, and another shorter one about Danielle de Niesse 
                  - though you might be better off listening to her sing, rather 
                  than the ditzy guided tour of her house.
                Kirk McElhearn
                
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