Handel: Let the Revival Continue

I see by the program for the San Francisco Opera that the entire 19^th Century passed without a single recorded performance of a Handel opera. Ironic, really. The standard beef on Handel is that his operas are too static (A-B-A over and over again, ad nauseam). Yet the 19^th Century was the time when portly ladies “performed” opera while seated on stools. Now in the 20^th Century, when opera has become drama again, we find Handel coming into his own.

One reason is that he is just too good to be left on the shelf. Accept the formal conventions and take him for what he is: Handel is as good as, perhaps better than, anybody else at portraying the inner life of a mind divided. In my youth I owned an LP record entitled The Unknown Handel (back when he truly was unknown—but not this one). As I recall, it was mostly mad (or almost-mad) scenes, which gave Handel his vehicle for exploring the depths. Listen to that sort of thing for a while and you are able to appreciate his virtues, while tolerating the (only seemingly) marmoreal format.

There’s another good reason for reviving Handel, although it isn’t as edifying. That would be: good parts for women. There are plenty of women in Handel operas in any event. But in an age when they used to cut the testes off little boys to enhance their musical ability, they weren’t too hung up on sex roles in general. Lots of the best Handel “male” roles are performed, or performable, by the ladies.

Handel’s Ariodante, the current Handel offering at the San Francisco offering, fills the bill on both counts. Indeed, as to style and format, Ariodante may confirm the main point. On the face of things, it’s a plot both dull and stupid. But Handel had his back to the wall on this one; he was operating in an unfamiliar house, against fierce competition. Somehow these challenges became opportunities and he produced some of his most listenable music.

At San Francisco, he also had one more important ally: Susan Graham, in the (“male”) title role. Graham seems to pretty much own the 18^th Century repertoire now; in the last year we’ve seen her in this Handel, a Gluck (Iphegenia) and a Mozart (Clemenza di Tito) and every time, she just seems to inhabit the part.

I can’t quite make my mind up about Ruth Ann Swenson as Ginevra, Graham’s opposite number. You certainly want to root for anyone who went under the knife for breast cancer just two years ago, and must still be staggering from the shock of chemo. But the truth is, I’ve always thought she lacks a certain something—more sweet than memorable, more cream than really peachy.

Graham and Swenson had good support from the rest of the cast, but for Mr. and Mrs. Buce, the cast labored under an unfortunate disadvantage: we’d just got through listening to a superb CD version from Spoleto, where the supporting cast sang, on the whole, rather better. In particular, Mary-Ellen Nessi, Spoleto’s Polinesso, was convincing enough to give villainy a bad name.

Still, I vote for more Handel. As we filed out, I heard the lady next to me say she figured one every four years was enough. Fine with me, she can give me all her extra tickets.