This Opera Philadelphia production of Semele is a musical treat. 

For more than a century, companies in Philadelphia have avoided the operas of Georg Frideric Handel. The operas of Handel — born the same year as Bach — were neglected even during the decades when Leopold Stokowski’s Bach transcriptions were frequently played at Philadelphia Orchestra concerts.

When Handel operas had a resurgence in Europe and New York, this city’s companies still shied away from them. Opera Philadelphia, therefore, deserves praise for mounting this ambitious production as part of its O19 Festival. The singing is superb, although the visual production is controversial.

This 1744 composition is based on Greek myths (although Handel’s libretto uses the later Roman names, such as Jupiter instead of the Greek Zeus.)

Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, the king of Thebes, was a woman who rejected her fiancée and had an affair with the king of the gods, then died while pregnant with his child. She was doomed by her own ambition and pride. Cadmus arranged for her to marry Athamas, the prince of Boeotia. But she calls off the ceremony because she yearns for Jupiter, who appears in the form of an eagle and carries her off. Meanwhile, Semele’s sister Ino is in love with Athamus.

Jupiter’s wife Juno is angered by Semele’s affair with her husband, so she disguises herself as Ino and advises Semele to insist that Jupiter appear to her in his real form, and that will make her immortal like him. When he does, Semele is consumed by fire. The unborn child of Semele and Jupiter arises from her ashes. He is Bacchus, god of wine, and the chorus sings “Happy, happy shall we be.”

Handel’s music, beautiful as it is, provides little help in understanding what’s going on. The words of his arias are brief expressions, repeated multiple times, of the character’s feelings. Unlike modern musical theater which aims to have the singer change action during the course of a song, Handel’s arias set a mood and reinforce it, without advancing or changing the plot.

Singing and orchestral playing are on a high level, augmented by balletic movements that visually echo the music. James Darrah‘s production uses choreography by Gustavo Ramirez Sansano with a prominence like Jerome Robbins in West Side Story. This is a worthwhile ambition, but Sansano’s work is too interventionist, often overshadowing the music.     

Dancer Lindsey Matheis is employed as a mirror double of Ino, expressing that character’s feelings. She contorts her body like a gymnast while other dancers writhe on the floor and wave their arms.

Gary Thor Wedow, who has conducted the New York Philharmonic in Handel’s Messiah, leads a stylish performance by locally-based instrumentalists. His orchestra includes period instruments, with extra woodwinds placed in a proscenium box to our left, while a percussionist is in a box to the right, portraying the thunderbolts of Jupiter. Braden coaches a chorale of twenty in the intricate polyphonic choruses.

All of the singers use full-blown projection, in contrast to the reserved style of Handel’s religious music. Yet they never force. Their articulation and ornamentation are superb.
 
In particular, soprano Amanda Forsythe is a revelation as Semele. Her lyric passages have limpid beauty while her dramatic ones are dashed off with agility. Her breath control is magnificent. Forsythe is enchanting in the Mirror aria, “Myself I shall adore,” where she imagines that she’s as beautiful as any of the gods.

Mezzo-soprano Daniela Mack brings forceful power to her two roles of Juno and Ino, with more majesty than required in her fine previous appearances as Carmen, Elizabeth Cree, and (in Santa Fe) as Bradamante in Handel’s Alcina. Her dramatic rendition of “Iris, hence away” is a standout.

Mack’s real-life husband, tenor Alek Shrader shows a nice affinity for Handel. I’ve seen him in Italian, German and American roles (most recently as a mis-directed Candide) and I’m convinced that he should spend more time in the Handelian repertoire. His lyric voice soars as the lascivious Jupiter and his “Where'er you walk” is lovely.

Countertenor Tim Mead spins florid beauty of tone as Athamus. The bearded bass Alex Rosen impresses as a robust Cadmus and as the somnolent Somnus, the god of sleep. Soprano Sarah Shafer does her most sparkling work to date in the role of Juno’s messenger.

The musical editing for this production creates a problem for devotees of Handel. The showiest aria for Athamas has been transferred from the last act to the first. And a section of the prison scene from Handel’s Theodora, “Oh that I on wings could rise,” is interpolated into Semele’s role. Of course, the newbie listener won’t notice this. Major institutions have shamelessly gathered Baroque arias by disparate composers and shoved them into pastiche productions. Remember the Metropolitan’s Enchanted Island in 2012?