George Frideric Handel wrote Rinaldo to launch his career as an opera composer in London in 1711. Thereby he helped establish Italian opera as an art form in Britain. After the domination of hybrid, dramatic-operatic genres such as the semi-opera in Purcell’s age, sung-through operas by contemporary Italian composers had been performed there either in English translation or as pasticci, i.e. compilations of numbers from different operas. Handel allegedly composed the opera in two weeks by adapting and reworking music he wrote between 1706 and 1710 during his stay in Italy. The libretto was written by Giacomo Rossi and based on a synopsis put together by Aaron Hill, the head of the Queen’s Theatre. He took great care to provide continuity with British theatrical traditions, which explains why Rinaldo is so different not only from Italian operas of the time, but also from the seventeenth-century librettistic traditions that Handel’s operas would draw on so heavily throughout the following decades.

For Handel’s 1711 opera, the story of Rinaldo and Armida, adapted from Torquato Tasso’s epic Gerusalemme liberata, was partly divested of its tragic potential as explored by Quinault and Lully in 1686, and in order to capture the attention of the London public, Handel emphasised scenic effects, particularly pageantry and magic, to great success. Unlike his French seventeenth-century counterpart Renaud, Rinaldo is unshaken by Armida’s magic and his commitment to the struggle against the Saracens is motivated by the prospect of marrying Almirena, the daughter of the leader of the crusaders, Goffredo. Armida’s character is also less ambivalent than later Handelian sorceresses like Medea, Melissa and Alcina, who project and move us by their vulnerability rather than straightforward nastiness. The plot revolves around Armida’s capture of Almirena and her liberation by Rinaldo, Goffredo and his brother Eustazio. Armida’s love for Rinaldo, like that of her ally (and lover) Argante’s for Almirena, is short-lived and its dramatic potential remains largely unexploited. Instead, upon defeat in battle, these operatic villains pragmatically convert to Christianity, leading to the obligatory happy ending.

Even more so than many of Handel’s own works and eighteenth-century opere serie in general, Rinaldo has the character of a patchwork: very few of its numbers were original compositions and many saw exclusion or replacement in the opera’s numerous revivals. It is therefore not surprising that productions rarely take the work “seriously”, especially given its comedic potential. For example, the duet in the second act in which Armida, disguised as Almirena, chases after Rinaldo – only to be chased after by Argante herself later on, who mistakes her for Almirena – is bound to have made audiences laugh in 1711 and will surely continue to do so in 2013 and beyond. The first act dominates by its sheer length, the second by its action, whereas the third one has not only fewer arias (albeit more orchestral numbers), but strangely enough doesn’t contain any of the opera’s best vocal numbers. Whether the lack of musico-dramatic tension and the somewhat random nature of the plot alongside Handel’s sometimes slightly “estranged” setting are legitimate reasons to extend a comic and ironic approach to the whole opera remains to be judged on the evidence of this new production of Rinaldo.

Its director, Tatjana Gürbaca, one of the most sought-after contemporary young opera directors, was recently named ‘Director of the Year 2013’ by the German operatic journal Opernwelt. The production constitutes her second collaboration with the Junges Ensemble des Staatstheater Mainz, a group of young singers attached to the Music School of Mainz University (the first was Alessandro Scarlatti’s biblical oratorio, Il primo omicido), and her final outing as director of the Staatstheater. Orchestral support was provided by the theatre’s residential orchestra, the Philharmonisches Staatsorchester Mainz, under the leadership of Hermann Bäumer.Though visually attractive, the stage design by Stefan Heyne, evoking the interior of a clock, placed the orchestra above the singers, which proved highly detrimental to the acoustic balance of vocal and instrumental performances. As a result, in the relatively small auditorium of the theatre the soloists could be heard very well, while the sound of the orchestra remained somewhat hazy. One cannot and should not expect the same standard of performance as one would from an orchestra specialising in historically informed performance practice, but the fact remains that although the Staatsorchester played precisely for most of the time (with the exception of the two flutes accompanying Almirena’s aria ‘Augeletti, che cantate’), it lacked the distinctiveness of tone which could have made it an equal partner to the voices.

Gürbaca has opted for a pointedly comic, almost satiric reading of the opera. Capitalising on the youth of her soloists, she underlined the childish, immature traits implicit in their roles. Rightly establishing the lack of distinctive features between the two brothers Goffredo (Michael Taylor, the only guest star in the production) and Eustazio (Alin Deleanu), she characterised them as two privileged, rival brothers adorned with a plethora of British upper class stereotypes. The youngish looks of the four female Korean singers, meanwhile, lent themselves readily to the portrayal as adolescents of the two mermaids (Su-Jin Yang and Uiji Kim), standing in for mischievous Cupids, of Almirena (Saem You), and of Rinaldo (Jina Oh). In terms of caricature, Armida (Radoslava Vorgić) and Argante (Dmitriy Ryabchikov) proved particularly imaginative, their looks ranging from shabby, retro Gypsy to that of a go-go girl – thanks to the quirkily stylish costumes by Silke Willrett. Throughout the director stressed the absurd, silly nature of the dramatic situations. In this she had the enthusiastic support of the whole cast, whose stage activity at times verged on the hectic. The rotating stage often left them exposed, either in “frozen” positions waiting for their next entrance or participating in the stage action as extras. Although refreshing and irreverent, one cannot help thinking that Gürbaca’s humour, which is inspired by everything from slapstick comedy to comic books, would benefit from a healthy infusion of ‘less is more’: not only were there moments when one literally did not know where to look, but one was occasionally repelled by the impression that director and singers were trying just a little too hard to be amusing and likeable.

As a consequence, any exploration of Rinaldo’s serious aspects was heavily curtailed. In the programme notes, Gürbaca conceptualises the opera’s narrative as a rite of passage. If this was indeed the intended framework, it does not carry into the actual performance: while the set design intriguingly suggests that the protagonists are trapped in time and space, not acting on their own behalf but impelled by random and often absurd forces, it falls victim to its own somewhat over-articulated metaphor. The many ironic touches Gürbaca has worked into the production seem to disregard the content of the characters’ arias completely rather than to engage with it critically. And while the soloists displayed high professionalism in both musical and scenic terms, carrying out what was required of them conscientiously and with youthful panache, greater maturity would perhaps have created more lasting individual performances.

These proved of varying quality. Su-Jin Yang and Uiji Kim’s only number in the opera, the slightly melancholic duet of the mermaids (‘Il vostro maggio’) had us wishing for more, especially since at one point all the soloists joined in – with questionable musical results. Both countertenors, although slightly differing in vocal timbre and volume, were surprisingly uniform in the way they interpreted both their expressive cantabile and their moderately virtuosic arias; then again, this might reflect a deliberate casting choice. Dmitriy Ryabchikov had the scenic charisma and the acting skills to give life to Argante in a somewhat different way than the blustering macho we are usually shown. However, his character’s entry, ‘Sibillar gli angui d’Aletto’, was reduced to its ritornello, robbing him of one of the most “butch” operatic entries of all time – perhaps not without reason, since vocally Ryabchikov seems less than ideal choice for the repertory. His baritone lacks in cantabile qualities and approaches the coloraturas somewhat mechanically. The opposite applies to the technically immaculate, agile and forceful, but slightly monochromatic coloratura soprano of Radoslava Vorgić, whose version of the heartrending aria ‘Ah, crudel’ lacked expressivity. Neither did she quite manage to muster the charisma to convince us of Armida as one of the first operatic femmes fatales. Nevertheless, it goes without saying that roles such as these demand a level of maturity that cannot be asked of young singers at the very beginning of their careers.

In this performance, the heroine Almirena, at best a mere seconda donna to Armida in an opera where even the secondary castrati parts of Goffredo and Eustazio get more arias, was further deprived of her entry aria, ‘Combatti da forte’, and reduced to the lyric register in her remaining three. However, Saem You’s rendition of ‘Lascia ch’io pianga’,in combination with a very convincing directorial interpretation of her scene with Argante, enhanced by the obvious chemistry between the two singers, was among the moments that resonated most strongly over the course of the evening. Last but by no means least, Jina Oh gave us a fantastically nuanced performance as Rinaldo, displaying a voice ideally suited to the repertory: her penetrating sound, androgynous but still feminine timbre, as well as her agility and depth would put many a countertenor to shame. And although her diction and articulation are not yet fully developed, and even though she seemed ever so slightly uncomfortable in a trouser role, she managed to endow her several arias (out of a total of eight only two (less distinguished ones) were dropped) with an appropriate range of different musical characters, temperaments and modes of expression.

The Mainz performance excluded altogether seven arias from the score and for (supposedly) dramaturgic reasons moved several of Rinaldo, Goffredo, and Eustazio’s to different scenes or acts. However, the cuts and changes were carried out cleverly and with respect to the 1711 version of Rinaldo (HWV 7a), except perhaps for the somewhat crude interventions in the already mentioned ‘Sibillar gli angui d’Aletto’ and in Armida’s vengeance aria, ‘Vo’ far guerra’. But generally speaking, the overall design of the opera with its fitting exchange of contrasting arias remained undisturbed, and the ornamentation in the da capo sections was carried out with taste. Despite the issues detailed above, this production of Rinaldo has much to offer in both musical and theatrical terms and will probably win audiences over even if it fails to impress as an offering by a leading German operatic director.

Repeat performances of Rinaldo will take place at the Staatstheater Mainz on 13 and 30 November 2013.

Production photograph © Martina Pipprich (Jina Oh (Rinaldo), Radoslava Vorgić (Armida)).