Despite not having been written as an opera, Handel’s Semele has received many dramatic treatments over the years, including Pinchgut Opera’s (Sydney) creative Australia-in-the-1950s version of 2002.  Here we have a modern day scenario, in which Jupiter is the womanising President of the United States, Juno his vengeful wife, Iris her supportive PA and Semele his latest conquest. Any resemblances to actual live persons are, I am sure, coincidental.  This does not appear to be one of those Konzepts hastily scribbled on the back of an envelope, but a well-worked out scenario which is coherent from beginning to end and which, furthermore, in no way violates the message of the music or the text. 

The clever economic set involves, at first, the steps and door to a circular structure, not unlike the portico of the south face of the White House in Washington.  The curtain rises with the start of the overture, revealing a couple pledging vows at a USA badged lectern. The set revolves to reveal an interior scene with some similarity to the Oval Office – but the coffered ceiling and circular skylight suggest the Pantheon (original temple to all the gods) in Rome.  Here we see a man in a suit making out with a young woman.  Another revolve brings us to the front of the building, a black fleet car arriving with secret service escorts; around again, to see a more formidable woman in burnt sienna pants suit entering the interior space while the man hides the young woman.  And so on throughout, with interior alternating with exterior scenes.

The first actual scene is an indoor wedding, with the groom, Athamus, some sort of military sergeant and Semele’s father Cadmus not being the officiating priest, but the recipient of a briefcase full of cash from Jupiter.  A fashionable congregation is reduced to well-staged disarray when Semele seems to disappear.  The thunder in the text heralds the arrival of combat troops, both from the entrances and the skylight above, whither Semele is abducted, letting her veil fall to earth, while Cadmus is relieved of his briefcase. 

In Act II, Juno stages a massive tantrum, and the slightly klutzy Iris shows her a video of the lovers in a swimming pool at a sunny resort.  When she warns Juno of the dragons guarding Cithaeron, military helicopters are depicted.  One of the best scenes involves Juno changing into serious combat gear, while rejecting boots in favour of a pair of heels, with her and Iris then stalking across the front of the stage, automatic rifle at the ready.  They confront Somnus, a shaggy haired, baggy shorted dude asleep in front of a bank of security screens.  They present him with images of Pasithea first as a Playboy centrefold, then a seductive dancer on the screens and finally crawling out of the screens as a live temptation in the flesh. No wonder he succumbs.

One of the themes of the production is the cult of celebrity in modern society, and how the press serves to create and enhance it;  Semele, appropriately pregnant in Act III, appears to be incinerated by the flash photography of the ever-present press pack.

The work was performed in two parts but happily this was achieved by simply omitting an interval between Acts I and II.  It was rendered intact, with only the usual cut of Athamas’s last aria (“Despair no more shall wound me”);  clearly for the composer this was necessary to round out that character’s trajectory through the drama, and it is a pretty, sprightly air, but I suppose most modern directors simply find the character is not quite interesting enough to deserve that. The final aria of Apollo was taken by Jupiter.  While doubling the roles is quite common these days, Juno and Ino were here taken by different and well-differentiated singers.

The now regular Deutsche Händel-Solisten under English conductor Christopher Moulds brought finesse and clarity to the score, and the medium-sized period instrument orchestra working at Baroque pitch sounded full-bodied yet transparent as to parts and textures.  Since Semele is not a Handel opera, but a later oratorio-type work (sometimes labelled as a “drama” or other variant), there is a lot of work for a chorus.  In this case, the Händel Festspielchor were well up to the task, delivering such cori as “O terror and astonishment” with ferocious relish, and acting out their very various parts (wedding guests, press corps, protesters …), if their English diction was a little odd at times.

The titular role was sung by rising young English soprano Jennifer France, who is able to project an appropriately winning personality on the stage, and with a clean fresh if not large voice which seemed to need time to warm up;  while “Endless pleasure” and “Myself I shall adore” were well sung and dramatized, her voice seemed to reach new heights in Semele’s final scene with Jupiter, and the aria “No, no, I’ll take no less” with great coloratura and an angry exciting cadenza was warmly received.  Tenor Ed Lyon was Jupiter/POTUS, certainly a buff figure in his bedroom scenes, but with a fine ringing tenor.  The show was all but stolen by Katharine Tier’s Juno, a wronged wife to be reckoned with.  The Australian mezzo has become better known for Wagnerian roles of late, but here took on the Baroque style required with mesmerising stage presence and acting chops.  Another strong contender was Turkish mezzo Dilara Baştar as Ino, not at all the usual put-upon mouse, but another wronged woman full of passion and fury, with a rather Slavic-sounding metallic but accurate and full-toned voice, and more vibrato than we usual hear in Handel. It must be said that it was obvious that English is not her first, or probably second, language.  Her duet with Athamas was well-rendered by both.  The latter was sung by Halle regular Terry Wey, who has a mellow-toned countertenor well suited to the role.  The minor roles were well-accounted for, vocally and dramatically, Hannah Bradbury a very sweet-voiced Iris, Edward Gaunnt resonant as Cadmus and Somnus sung by early career Chinese bass Yang Xu, a great voice in the making.