Thanks to the aeonic timescales involved in opera-house planning, it is not usually possible to revive a hit in a hurry. But at the candlelit Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, where the Royal Opera’s production of Cavalli’s 1644 opera opened last spring, the rules are different: and hooray for that, as this is something of a revelation for anyone who has ever slept through an early opera.
That’s not to say the work itself is entirely a masterpiece – just that Kasper Holten’s production, revived by Toria Banks, is entertaining enough to disguise the gaps. The first act is pacey and often pantomimish, with action that is just as suggestive as the libretto in Christopher Cowell’s snappy English translation; in this tiny theatre, some of it takes place literally in the front row’s laps. It also includes the most striking musical moment: the abandoned Sicle’s brief lament for her lover, gorgeously sung here by Joélle Harvey.
The second act balances more sauciness with a touching reunion scene; for the third, however, it’s as if Cavalli remembered that he was supposed to be writing something lofty and improving. This act, with its mesmeric farewell duet and convoluted fake-poisoning plotline, seems largely to have sidled in from a more polite opera.
The topical lines in the opening dedication – sung by Music personified as a soprano suspended on wires – have been tweaked, but otherwise things are the same. The candlelight still loves Anja Vang Kragh’s exuberant, punkish costumes – and who wouldn’t be in favour of a dress that lets naughty Queen Erisbe wear her own bed? Up in the gallery, with Christian Curnyn directing from the harpsichord, the eight musicians of the Early Opera Company again sound ravishing. And the cast, from Susanna Hurrell’s bright soprano Erisbe to Graeme Broadbent’s cavernous bass king, taking in Samuel Boden’s airy-sounding Ormindo and Ed Lyon’s peacocky Amidas on the way, have all returned, and are all spot on.
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