At the Louvre, there is currently an exhibition titled “Pharaoh of the Two Lands”, which is packed with artefacts from granite statues to golden amulets inlaid with lapis lazuli. More Egyptology than you could throw a sphinx at… and only slightly more than you’d find in Damiano Michieletto’s new production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto that opened at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées to resounding boos yesterday evening. 

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Sabine Devieilhe (Cleopatra)
© Vincent Pontet

There are early touches. Carlo Vistoli’s Tolomeo wears an usekh collar. Sabine Devieilhe’s Cleopatra dons a pearl choker necklace which features a huge blue scarab, but her look is defined less by the legendary Egyptian queen than by the legendary hairstyles of 20th-century Hollywood A-listers. Her dressing room has a number of wigs on display. When Devieilhe dons a Louise Brooks style black bob as “Lydia”, it hints at Cleo’s classic look, but she also gets Rita Heyworth’s tumbling red locks as Gilda and Audrey Hepburn’s high chignon in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Michieletto wants us to imagine Cleopatra as an actress, chameleon-like, changing her appearance to suit her needs in wooing Cesare and usurping her brother, Tolomeo. 

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Sabine Devieilhe (Cleopatra) and Gaëlle Arquez (Giulio Cesare)
© Vincent Pontet

Devieilhe delivered an A-list performance, tossing off Cleopatra’s seven arias with panache. Her light, tender soprano was up to every challenge Handel throws his leading lady. Her “Gilda” seductress was utterly beguiling in “V’adoro, pupille”, complete with an interpolated, breathtaking pianissimo high note in the da capo. “Se pietà” was heart-wrenching – despite having to don an animal skull and paw the ground – but was sung with angelic tone. In “Piangerò la sorte mia”, Devieilhe proved herself a great tragedienne. “Da tempeste” was played as a sort of Mad Scene, Cleopatra conflicted in her feelings and introducing some musically questionable Queen of the Night-type ornaments. And the wedding scene was anything but triumphant as she takes her isolated throne as a client queen – finally donning Elizabeth Taylor Cleo bling – while senators circle around Cesare, hinting at his brutal not so happy-ever-after.  

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Sabine Devieilhe (Cleopatra)
© Vincent Pontet

The rest of the cast couldn’t really hold a candle to Devieilhe. As Cesare, Gaëlle Arquez displayed a bright mezzo and neat agility, although she didn’t always project over the pit band. Her singing was always accomplished, but Michieletto conceives Cesare as a boardroom bully and Arquez did not wear the power suit with conviction, seeming a bit anonymous, especially when surrounded by such extrovert performers. 

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Gaëlle Arquez (Giulio Cesare) and Carlo Vistoli (Tolomeo)
© Vincent Pontet

Lucile Richardot’s dark, abrasive contralto is distinctive and she made for a noble Cornelia, while Franco Fagioli was a histrionic Sesto. His countertenor was agile and virtuosic, with Bartoli-like aspirated rapidfire coloratura, but the sound was fruity and uneven, from a shiny top to uncomfortable plunges into baritone register. Carlo Vistoli threw in vocal acrobatics and wild ornamentation, but it suited Tolomeo’s psychotic personality, and Francesco Salvadori’s firm bass-baritone made for a menacing Achilla. In his single aria, Paul-Antoine Bénos-Djian’s Nireno displayed the loveliest countertenor voice on stage – notwithstanding the star singer in the pit.

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Franco Fagioli (Sesto) and Carlo Vistoli (Tolomeo)
© Vincent Pontet

Philippe Jaroussky has signalled the end of his singing career and is now focusing on conducting. Ensemble Artaserse sometimes sounded over loud and aggressive, but Jaroussky’s pacing was convincing. There was a buttery flute in Cornelia’s “Priva son d’ogni conforto” and the theorbo player introduced a nice Middle Eastern riff as Cleopatra made her first entrance. The horn player will have better nights in his treacherous “Va tacito” solo.

Michieletto’s production is highly variable. The first half takes place in a garishly lit white box set – like budget-price Christof Loy – that opens up for non-scripted, slow motion action. In Act 1, Sesto removes his school tie to show he means business in seeking revenge for his father’s murder. “My father’s spirit hastens,” he quivers… so Michieletto takes that as license to show us Pompeo’s ghost and here’s where the Egyptology comes in. 

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Sabine Devieilhe (Cleopatra) and Carlo Vistoli (Tolomeo)
© Vincent Pontet

Taking his cue from Ancient Egyptian ritual, Michieletto portrays Pompeo’s journey into the afterlife as three naked women draw a red thread from him in an “opening of the mouth” ceremony. These threads proliferate until the set is dominated by a maze of red after the interval. Pompeo’s body is then slathered in chalk and he finally takes his position on a plinth as a statue. 

Even less convincing is Cesare’s sudden reappearance which takes place in front of a “dropcloth” of ugly plastic sheeting to enable the director to have Roman senators gather conspiratorially and stab the plastic. Sesto’s aria then features him tearing holes in said plastic (sticking his head through it to sing) before it rises to the flies… only to tumble and engulf the cast during the curtain call*. It was as judgmental a statement, in its way, as the crowd’s vitriolic reaction when the director appeared to take his bow. 


TCE have asked us to point out the technical problems concerning the plastic sheeting, which was supposed to fall during Sesto's aria. The performers therefore had to improvise the final scene. 

***11