Handel returned to the Glimmerglass Festival repertory with a high-concept new production of Rinaldo that proved endlessly inventive and slyly moving. Director Louisa Proske refracts this story of warlords and witches through the prism of a child’s dream world, offering a poignant comment on the ethos of battle and the importance of fantasy amid challenging moments in life.
The staging opens in the children’s wing of a modern-day hospital, where a boy and girl convalesce following brain surgery. As the boy watches his playmate lying unconscious and breathing through tubes, he conjures a fantasy world of escapism and derring-do. The kids become Rinaldo and Almirena, a valiant 11th-century knight and his object of adoration. With this extra-textual frame applied to the story of Rinaldo’s heroic journey to glorify his king and save his love from abduction, the trials of Handel’s imaginary world pale in comparison to the struggles of pediatric illness.
As the contemporary setting gives way to a mythical past, doctors, nurses and parents assume secondary roles within the story: they transform into the warring kings, Goffredo and Argante, and the powerful sorceress Armida. The boy’s hospital bed stands in as the ship that transports Rinaldo to the front line, with a baby blanket fashioned as a makeshift sail. Arminda’s lair is a radiation suite. A hydrogen peroxide bottle acts as a sword; syringes turn into magic wands. The performers clearly relish the possibilities found in these props. Matt Saunders’ scenic design balances realism and whimsy, complemented by Jorge Cousineau’s inventive projection designs. Amith Chandrashaker’s vivid lighting demarcates truth from fiction, as hazy dreams give way to the harsh light of day.
In this reading, the follies of war, past and present, seem especially trivial when enacted by children. Every fight might as well be a tantrum, and Proske’s concept says more about the futility of combat than more outwardly didactic productions that take on this topic. More directly, though, the viewer cannot lose the sense that the action-packed drama of the boy’s creation is, at its heart, a brief reprieve from the trauma and uncertainty of illness. As presented here, the story resolves inconclusively. Even as Rinaldo is crowned the hero within his dream, we know the true ending might not be so positive.
Glimmerglass has long been a haven for Handel, and the Festival Orchestra, conducted by Emily Senturia, delivered one of the best score readings I’ve heard from a non-specialist outfit. The stylish blend of contemporary and period instruments created a sound world of weight and flexibility, and appropriately fast tempos in the establishing scenes gave way to lushly ruminative arias like “Lascia ch’io pianga”. Senturia drew expressive playing from numerous orchestral players, especially Eileen Whalen’s rich-toned solo lines for oboe and the vivid trumpets that announce Rinaldo’s “Or la tromba in suon festante”.
Anthony Roth Costanzo brought his customary musical intelligence and consistently mesmerizing stage presence to the title role. He utterly convinced as a loose-limbed little boy longing to escape the confines of his hospital room, then seamlessly changed his bearing to suggest Rinaldo’s stature as a great warrior. He shaped endlessly flowing vocal lines with finesse and characterful choices, as when he used the melismatic runs of “Venti, turbini” to suggest a windswept ship at sea. The lower range of Costanzo’s voice doesn’t always knit smoothly together with the rest of his instrument and his tone can turn harsh, but there is no question that he is a significant artist.
Jasmine Habersham sang with subtlety and grace as Almirena, her ornaments always tastefully handled. As has become common at Glimmerglass, supporting parts were cast from within the Young Artists Program. This introduces the audience to the singers of tomorrow, but it also means that important roles sometimes fall to artists who are still very much works in progress. Case in point: while Keely Futterer deployed a bright, exciting soprano as Armida, she also tended to oversing. Her decorations also seemed self-consciously showy rather than in service to the line. Likewise, while countertenor Kyle Sanchez Tingzon performed Goffredo with a meltingly pretty tone, he hasn’t yet mastered Baroque style.
Jorrell Lawyer-Jefferson’s arresting choreography for three non-singing dancers – Madison Hertel, Peter Murphy and Emma Sucato – created a terrifying train for Armida. Clad in black robes and distorted masks (costumes by Montana Levi Blanco), they stalked the stage as the scariest of spirits. In perhaps the most memorable silent role, though, an adorable and well-behaved dog brings comfort to the boy as the fantasy world of Rinaldo fades away. Musically and dramatically, this Baroque outing signals a welcome reminder to what Glimmerglass does best.
