Rodelinda was the third in a string of great operas Handel composed in 1724-25, Giulio Cesare and Tamerlano being the other two. Cesare and Tamerlano have fared very well on CD; Rodelinda has not. By default, this new version becomes the preferred available version, but it is by no means ideal–or even very good. A heavily cut 1959 live recording with Joan Sutherland, Margreta Elkins, and Janet Baker had some exciting moments; a 1964 set under Brian Priestman with the wonderful Teresa Stich-Randall in the title role has never emerged on CD; Sophie Daneman shines vocally under Nicholas Kraemer but the whole performance is too dainty for the plot; a 1985 set led by Richard Bonynge is insensitively cut, with da capos disappearing left and right and Sutherland singing droopily very late in her career (joined by an almost unbelievably cruddy Hugette Tourangeau, but a marvelous Samuel Ramey). A performance from the Göttingen Festival in 2000 under Nicholas McGegan with Dominique LaBelle and Robin Blaze is splendid, but it’s only available with membership from a society (www.haendel.org).
And so we have this new presentation. Simone Kermes’ portrayal of the stronger-than-Penelope character of Rodelinda is gorgeous, the sound at the top occasionally metallic in a fascinating way, and her diction fine, divisions accurate and embellishments stunning. (Dorothea Röschmann on a new Farao DVD is the standard by which others ought to be judged.) Marijana Mijanovic disappoints in the role of her long-lost-but-not-dead husband, Bertarido, a part just as frequently taken these days by a countertenor (it was composed for the great castrato, Senesino), and usually to better effect for the casting. Mijanovic’s sound is nicely androgynous, but that’s not the problem; the fact that she can’t seem to find the right pitch in mid-voice passages and comes close to aspirating her runs is more of a concern. Even worse is that she sounds bored, and this malaise is at the core of the set’s failure: Alan Curtis has sucked all the energy out of the score.
His Il Complesso Barocco plays beautifully, the strings lustrous and winds pointedly used and expertly highlighted. But you listen to an aria like Rodelinda’s second-act “Spietati…”, a venomous attack on Garibaldo that comes after she has told him she’ll marry him if he kills her son in front of her, and you’re struck both by Kermes’ crisp assault and the orchestra’s lolling, dance-like accompaniment. Similarly, in the luscious, deeply felt aria of the confused Grimoaldo that follows, tenor Steve Davislim, though not a particularly graceful (or elsewhere forceful) singer, is let down by an orchestral back-up that might be called “perky”. Curtis knows the music, but he seems not to realize that this is drama as well.
Sonia Prina is a great singer, but her tone may be too warm and handsome for the conniving, frequently enraged Edvige; Marie-Nicole Lemieux as the noble Unulfo is excellent; and Vito Priante, as the opera’s true villain, Garibaldo, despite a voice that’s a bit lighter than the role requires (as in Ramey, mentioned above), sings with great force and menace.
So, what to do? The recorded sound is excellent, Kermes is always worth hearing, and the score is elegantly presented and played–and more than complete, with a revised aria for Unulfo. But it strikes me as a concert version, with little heart. If you can find (and want to spend the money on) the McGegan, get it; I haven’t heard the Priestman in years but recall liking it a great deal in spite of Maureen Forrester’s too-womanly Bertarido.
