In its original 1724 form, Handel’s opera dealt with complex political and amorous machinations among a seventh-century ruling Lombard elite. Richard Jones’s 2014 production moves the action to fascist Italy, where the sense of a lawless dictatorship and the constant threat of violence seem equally apposite.
Jeremy Herbert’s split-stage set means that on one side we see Rodelinda – widow of the supposedly dead king Bertarido – imprisoned with her son Flavio in a grungy dungeon, while on the other, the vile Grimoaldo and his even wickeder ally Garibaldo plot their next move in attempting to persuade Rodelinda to marry her consort’s usurper.
Rodelinda’s extraordinary fidelity to the husband she believes dead causes her to play any available card – including some pretty extreme ones – to hold her infatuated persecutor firmly at bay, and allows Jones to find in the piece numerous touches of the dark humour in which he specialises, while the stark ambiguities of the “happy” ending are not lost on him.
Handel’s operas depend crucially on the quality of the singing, and here ENO has been canny in selecting a top-notch cast who can enter confidently into the manifold intricacies of the staging while still delivering the vocal goods. In the enormous title role, Rebecca Evans has to jump through innumerable vocal hoops yet is never found wanting; her tone is consistently beautiful and her expression exact.
As her missing-presumed-dead husband Bertarido, Tim Mead draws on a wide range of colour and charts his character intelligently. Spanish tenor Juan Sancho offers a disturbing portrayal of the iniquitous Grimoaldo, and like the rest of the cast he gets his words over in Amanda Holden’s finely crafted translation.
Neal Davies channels heightened villainy as Garibaldo, betrothed to Bertarido’s sister Eduige – delivered in grand tones by Susan Bickley – but constantly urging Grimoaldo on to ever baser deeds. In an equally ambivalent secondary role, Christopher Lowrey turns Unulfo – adviser to Grimoaldo but secretly supporting Bertarido – into a painfully touching study in loyalty. To Matt Casey falls the tricky task of playing the silent role of Rodelinda’s son Flavio – considerably beefed up in this staging – and does so with a convincing blend of barely repressed anger and defiance.
ENO’s orchestra plays efficiently for Christian Curnyn, though his conducting could do with sharper definition and occasionally more impetus.
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