United Kingdom Handel, Acis and Galatea: Soloists, Ensemble of Opera Holland Park, City of London Sinfonia / Michael Papadopoulos (conductor). Opera Holland Park, London, 19.7.2024. (AK)
Production:
Director – Louise Bakker
Designer – Alyson Cummins
Lighting designer – Johanne Jensen
Chorographer – Merry Holden
Cast:
Antony Gregory – Acis
Elizabeth Karani – Galatea
Chuma Sijeqa – Polyphemus
Ruari Bowen – Damon
Handel composed several versions on the Acis and Galatea episode from Book XIII of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. First came the 1708 Italian serenata Aci, Galatea, e Polifemo, then the 1718 two-act English version – variously described as a masque or a pastoral opera – which was written for a private performance in the gardens of the Duke of Chandos’s palace.
For their first excursion into Handel, Opera Holland Park has chosen Handel’s 1718 English version. OHP’s venue is ideal for this work: Handel composed it for the Chandos Garden environment – words and music clearly refer to nature in abundance – and we were surrounded by Holland Park’s natural beauty, including couple of birds flying in and out during this performance. Of course, neither Chandos Garden nor Holland Park would host sea nymphs (like Galatea), sheep, or cyclops (like Polyphemus) but the magic of theatre can overcome realities.
Stage director Louise Bakker’s concept is bursting with highly entertaining ideas. However, for the purists (like myself) less might have been more.
The story tells the legend of sea nymph Galatea falling in love with shepherd Acis who – in spite of warnings not to get involved – responds with passion. One-eyed cyclops Polyphemus also falls for Galatea and kills his rival Acis, but grieving Galatea turns Acis’s body into a stream.
There are four characters – Acis, Galatea, Polyphemus and Damon (who tries to smoothen trouble) – and a chorus which arguably is meant to offer commentary as Greek choruses do.
In Bakker’s direction, an ensemble of eight singers is tasked to dance and mime throughout. During the orchestral introduction, they move around the stage constantly. They seem to be presenting a parody of what we are listening to (surely not?) or, judging by their costumes, perhaps of the Arcadian pretences of Chandos/Handel aristocrats. Or are they meant to be nymphs or spirits or the likes?
The perpetuum mobile concept is applied to choral numbers too. For instance, the ensemble presents an eye-pleasing ribbon play while they are singing their demanding polyphonic choral number (‘Oh, the pleasure of the plains!’).
I love the idea of the ensemble moving paper birds during Galatea’s aria ‘Hush, Ye pretty warbling choir’ but it is slightly overdone, as the music (that is the recorder motives) make the bird reference clear.
I have no problem with the ensemble dressed as sheep during Damon’s demanding aria (‘Shepherd, what art thou pursuing?’) but making loud sheep noises, wondering in and around the auditorium with some of them going on all four is over the top (even if it is entertaining). I admit to have been deeply embarrassed when one of the sheep lied on her back and made rapid movements with all four legs during Damon’s virtuoso vocal runs.
The ever-busy concept applies throughout (although less so in the second act then in the first). Sometimes I loved it: the Acis/Galatea duet (‘Happy we’) includes a lovely garland and maypole dance (the latter possibly borrowed from Ashton’s ballet La Fille mal gardée). Polyphemus’s stylised killing of Acis (with the whole ensemble actively participating) is also an inspired idea. However, I was relieved and grateful that no fussy ensemble interference was applied to Acis’s transformation from a dead mortal to a stream: indeed, the staging was magical.
I like the set design by Alyson Cummins which spreads across the whole stage. At the front it includes what may be signifying greenery; at the back there is a circular enclosure with columns, probably hinting at ancient Greece, and a swing. The costumes are eye-catching although at times, in line with the staging, somewhat confusing. Also, I am not sure why Galatea, a sea-nymph, wears such a beautiful regal dress.
A major part of the staging is the choreography. Merry Holden provides inspired, pleasing inventions and fulfils the directorial concept. It is hard to know what Handel, a practical man of the theatre, would think of this production. Arguably, choreography does have a place in opera but the balance between singing and dance deserves consideration.
The ensemble of eight singers is magnificent. They dance, mime and sing throughout plus tackle some costume changes. The quality they present warrant full praise to all of them: Natasha Agarwal, Hugh Beckwith, Caroline Carragher, Eleri Gwilym, Dragoș Andrei Ionel, Christopher Killerby, Shakira Tsindos and Masimba Ushe.
The four solo singers also deliver excellence, in spite of often tricky group distraction on stage. For Galatea I would prefer a lighter soprano voice, for Polyphemus a deeper bass voice. However, full praise to Antony Gregory (Acis), Elizabeth Karani (Galatea), Chuma Sijeqa (Polyphemus) and Ruari Bowen (Damon).
The sixteen-piece orchestra, specified as the City of London Sinfonia, included four baroque specialists who played two baroque recorders, a theorbo and a harpsichord. However, in turn, the twelve non-baroque players adjusted well to the intended Handel-style. Martin Burgess’s violin solo in Galatea’s aria ‘As when the dove laments her love’ blended as it should, Owen Dennis provided beautiful oboe solos with elegant embellishments (Damon aria: ‘Consider, fond shepherd’, Galatea aria: ‘Must I my Acis still bemoan’) and Rebecca Knight’s short solo cello contributions were discreet but supportive.
Conductor Michael Papadopoulos, probably in charge of all aspects of the musical performance, surprised me. Being used to mediocracy in opera houses and concert halls of all kinds, I did not expect such astonishing accomplishment from a young person still at the beginning of what hopefully will be a splendid carrier. Papadopoulos clearly knows Handel’s score and is fully versed in baroque performance practice. Rarely have I heard hemiolas (that is baroque rhythms at musical closures) presented with such clarity yet discretion and rarely have I experienced what felt like appropriate tempi throughout the whole performance. Papadopoulos is also capable of producing utmost beauty without sentimentality: Acis’s death chorus (‘Mourn, all ye muses!’) was magical with its fully controlled pianissimo passages.
Sometimes I am asked whom do I regard among great conductors of our current time. I usually mention Semyon Bychkov, Vladimir Jurowski, Gustavo Dudamel, and so on. However, from now on I will confidently add the name Michael Papadopoulos.
Agnes Kory