Orlando furioso, composed by Antonio Vivaldi for the Teatro San Angelo, Venice, in 1727, is one of the most accomplished musical renditions of the epic poem with the same title written by Ludovico Ariosto in the 16th century, which had a tremendous influence on European culture. It is presented this year at Teatro Malibran in Venice, in a glamorous 2018 production by Fabio Ceresa. The plot completely ignores the war between the Christian paladins and the Muslims to concentrate on the love entanglements between the participants. There are two main subplots: the great knight Orlando is madly in love with Angelica, who is in a romantic relationship with Medoro. Orlando being the strongest warrior around makes the situation dangerous; Angelica and Medoro are terrified of him. The other love story is the one told in Handel’s Alcina: the knight Ruggiero is under the spell of the sorceress Alcina and forgets his beloved Bradamante, who rescues him from her clutches, sending the witch to her ruin.
The story is set in Alcina’s island. Massimo Checchetto imagines it as a fantastical world with all-purpose intricate architectonic elements, one of which revolves to show the surface of the Moon. This Moon often looms over the stage, to remind us of Orlando’s sense ending up on this celestial body, when he becomes furioso and loses it.
The show perfectly reflects what opera was in the 18th century: a show full of wonder. Ruggiero’s mount, the fantastic beast Ippogrifo, half bird, half horse, was a wonderful huge puppet animated by three puppeteers inside him, who managed to give him a personality. When Alcina brutally kills him, in the middle of a sweet aria, you could hear a gasp from the audience.
Giuseppe Palella's costumes are as camp as they come; Alcina and her court all in red and gold, the Christian paladins in white, blue and silver. All – men and women – sport long, braided hair and large gowns (the men with the gown gathered up in front), capes and shiny gauntlets, greaves and armour. An apotheosis of fabulousness.
Diego Fasolis, an expert in historically informed performance, led a small ensemble made of members of La Fenice's orchestra playing on modern instruments, with the addition of a few elements, with a tuning of 440hz. Fasolis’ reading of the score – in the critical edition by Federico Maria Sardelli, with considerable cuts – was energetic, with an edgy sound resembling the original instruments style. Fasolis, at the harpsichord, had inventive, enjoyable interventions with the continuo (completed by Dario Pisasale at the archlute and Francesco Ferrarini at the cello).
Sonia Prina's Orlando filled the Malibran stage. Her contralto had perfect coloratura and projection, her high notes a bit edgy, her interpretation captivating. She was a believable warrior, arrogant and aggressive in pursuit of Angelica. When Orlando discovers the marriage of Angelica and Medoro and loses his mind, Vivaldi uses mostly recitative to narrate his “follia”. Prina infused each sentence with purpose and meaning, giving a believable rendition of Orlando’s frenzy. The director had her climb on the moon with her feet and hands, delivering “Nel profondo cieco mondo” towering from the top of the moon itself!
Lucia Cirillo was supposed to sing the role of Alcina, but a last-minute illness brought in Vivica Genaux as a substitute. She sang the role from the pit as an actress acted it out on stage. Genaux showed good command of the style, however her voice remained a bit stuck in her head. Ruggiero was Kangmin Justin Kim, a singer who has grown very much in the last years. His countertenor showed great uniformity, with a supple, mellow timbre and spotless coloratura. His best moments were the lyrical ones, his “Sol per te, mio dolce amore” was one of the highlights of the evening.
Angelica, the only soprano voice, was Michela Antenucci, whose silvery high notes and sparkling coloratura gave life to a sweet princess. She was highly effective in “Chiara al pari di lucida stella,” where Angelica is trying to appease Orlando by lying and promising eternal love, an all-too-common dynamic in abusive relationships. Medoro, her lover, was Laura Polverelli; her mezzo was good in the higher register, less powerful in the middle: she sounded more like a “short soprano,” at times. Loriana Castellano was Bradamante, Ruggiero’s fiancée; she has some of the fiercest arias in the whole opera, which she managed with ease and expertise, and gave a very convincing portrayal of the warrior woman, enraged by jealousy.
The only bass voice was Luca Tittoto, who was remarkable in his mastery of the style, the command of his high notes and coloratura. His “Benché nasconda” was energetic, enthusiastic, and perfectly executed (and at the perfect tempo, thank you, Maestro Fasolis).
