Composer: George Frideric Handel
Director: Laura Attridge
Conductor: Ellie Slorach
One of the nice things about Leeds Opera Festival is that you never know what’s coming up, just that it will be worth watching and pretty obscure. Between last year’s Gustave Holst fest and next year’s Latin American fiesta we have a study of power. A free performance of Krenek’s The Dictator at the Holbeck and assorted performances of a new music theatre piece aside, the main focus of interest was three performances of Handel’s Silla at Leeds School of Arts.
There is little record of performances of Silla in Handel’s time, but there have been a couple of recordings in the last 20-odd years. The Northern Opera Group tackles the issues head on and the contemporary relevance is unmissable. Laura Attridge produces a compelling evening that loses some of its momentum late on, as does the opera itself – who could believe Silla would be so easily overcome?
It’s a thoroughly modern interpretation, with news cameras and reporters and a hard-working trio of extras setting events in their context. The result is that the six principals, all given their fair share of arias by Handel, register very strongly as characters: it’s hard to forget Flavia in her pyjamas recalling her nightmares. One or two things emerge as better as ideas than in execution. Lepido, the tribune, is transformed very elegantly to Lepida who then, according to the programme note, “tries to comfort her wife, Flavia.” Given that the gender of characters in very fluid in Handel’s operas – and with two characters sometimes performed by males stunningly delivered in this production – it does seem one stem too many towards modernity.
The plot of Silla reads worse than it plays. To simplify, Silla sets himself up as sole ruler of Rome after defeating his rival Mario. Many people oppose him, but only Claudio goes so far as to organise a rebellion. What is particularly interesting about Silla’s abuse of power is his attempt to gain Flavia as his mistress and his “adoption” of Celia, daughter of his main ally and lover of Claudio. It all seems very 21st century!
After a hurry-and-scurry of morning preparations during the overture, Silla (Idunnu Munch) addresses his public, his smug smile slotting in beside his venomous cruelty – sometimes in the space of a da capo aria. Equally sharply characterised and beautifully sung is the Claudio of Frances Gregory, his first two arias encompassing the character, a gorgeous love song to Celia and the summons to rebellion, aided by Chris Parsons’ splendid trumpet and hindered (to some extent) by some eccentric choreography for extras.
All six principals are precisely matched. All make the most of their dramatic moments, most have their opportunities for tenderness. Lucy Hall, increasingly to the fore as Metella, Silla’s wife, Isabelle Peters and Alison Rose, particularly touching in their scenes together as Lepida and Flavia and Stephanie Hershaw (Celia), revealing emotional depths as the opera proceeds, are all excellent. So, too, is Trevor Eliot Bowes, a heavy-metal god and a looming presence as Scabro.
Aided by Charly Dunford’s imaginative lighting, April Dalton’s designs are essentially a broad stepped area that fills with everything from furniture to earth and gravel. Behind an upstage screen Eboracum Baroque, a 15-piece period band, plays stylishly for Ellie Slorach.
Reviewed on 27 August 2022
