From the wealth of operas composed by George Frideric Handel some are often and some more rarely performed. The latter is certainly the case with Riccardo primo (1727), despite the fact that many circumstances make it unique in the composer’s opus. It is his only opera dealing with British history, evoking a gallant image of Richard I, who was not quite the legendary figure of Richard the Lionheart that he was to become later. It is also the third out of five operas written by Handel for his “Rival Queens”, the sopranos Francesca Cuzzoni and Faustina Bordoni. After Faustina’s London debut in Alessandro (1726), Handel took great care to balance the roles of the two singers because of their rivalry, which culminated in a disturbance in the auditorium during a performance of an opera by Bononcini in June 1727. The hierarchy of performers in opera seria was challenged in that instead of a prima and seconda donna, Handel had to satisfy the musical needs of two prima donnas (and their respective fan bases), making sure that he did not neglect his primo uomo Senesino either.

The socio-political context of the opera’s creation is no less interesting. Handel composed an initial version of Riccardo primo to be performed in June, but the aforementioned scandal and the death of George I put an abrupt end to the operatic season. Together with his librettist Paolo Rolli he thoroughly revised the opera for its premiere in November, possibly to accommodate the succession of George II. The first version heavily relied on Francesco Briani’s libretto Isacio Tiranno, set for Venice in 1710 by Antonio Lotti. The story of Richard the Lionheart’s conquest of Cyprus, instigated by his conflict with Isaac Comnenus who took Richard’s wife Berengaria of Navarre (renamed Costanza in all the librettos) captive, was rendered more operatic with the inclusion of a subplot concerning Isacio’s daughter Pulcheria. She is sent to Riccardo by her father in an unsuccessful attempt to deceive him by posing as Costanza, whose hand in marriage had been promised to Riccardo, but whom he has not yet met. In the second version of the opera, performed in Karlsruhe, Rolli stressed the nobility and magnanimity of the three main characters, playing to the special appeal all three of his star singers, Senesino (Riccardo), Cuzzoni (Costanza) and Faustina (Pulcheria), had for London audiences.

While in Lotti’s and Handel’s first setting even the heroes Riccardo and Costanza display some vengefulness towards Pulcheria and Isacio, in the final version cruelty is only Isacio’s trademark, while Pulcheria’s share in the deceit is negated, as she is turned into Riccardo and Costanza’s ally. Not only are these amendments to the libretto more appropriate for the context of the coronation of a new monarch, inevitably compared to the operatic Riccardo, but – as Suzanne Aspden has shown in her book The Rival Sirens (CUP, 2013) – they negotiate a careful balance between the stage identity of the two prima donnas, subduing tension and ambivalence between them. Their specific qualities as singers and actresses are highlighted equally strongly, but the supremacy of either of them on the musical or dramatic plane is carefully avoided. Costanza remains the virtuous “damsel in distress” type of character that Cuzzoni specialized in, with a range of poignant arias in the minor mode, whereas Pulcheria takes up a more active role in face of her vicissitudes in vigorous arias in the major mode.    

When the management of the International Handel Festival in Karlsruhe decided to stage Riccardo primo, they were aware of the fact that they had to play it safe if they wanted to leave a mark with this rarely performed opera. With the memory of Sigrid T’Hooft’s production of Radamisto in 2009 and 2010 still vivid, the festival’s faithful audience showed great interest in Benjamin Lazar’s production of Riccardo primo. The explanation for this is simple: Regietheater being dominant especially in Germany, audiences hail the rare opportunity to see a performance that strives to evoke the aura of the work’s creation not only on the musical level, but also in terms of sets, costumes, gesture and movement (I am deliberately avoiding the word “authentic”, because a reconstruction is no less viable here than in the musical aspect of performance). Lazar has previously dazzled with productions of seventeenth-century French opera, and ventured into early Italian opera such as Landi’s Sant’Alessio. Although the staging conventions of eighteenth-century opera seria are quite different from these, in his first production outside France he and his regular collaborators managed to stay true both to their trademark visual style and to the specificities of Handel’s work.

The soul of Lazar’s theatre is Christophe Naillet’s lighting. It is difficult to judge whether the large stage was lit by candlelight exclusively, as the reputation of Lazar’s previous productions would have us think, but does this really matter? With immeasurable mastery Naillet brought magic to the action on stage, highlighting the minutely ornamental pseudo-medieval costumes by Alain Blanchot (Isacio and Pulcheria’s Byzantine garments were especially impressive), the monumental revolving set depicting a fortress with an austere military exterior and some opulent interiors, as well as the subtle, carefully measured movements of the singers. Unlike T’Hooft, who likes his singers to perform elements of baroque choreography, Lazar made no use of dance but encouraged his singers to use sensitive, gradual movements. This was at its most effective in the ten-minute duet T’amo si that ends the second act, as the protagonists express their love for each other for the first time, moving in close proximity to each other but postponing the first touch to the closing ritornello, as Riccardo leads Costanza offstage by the hand. The slow pace with which the singers moved and the composure of their gestures helped emphasize the comparatively few showier, semantically more charged gestures, for example when Isacio, after two acts of courting Costanza with restraint, loses control over himself and violently pushes her. The “less is more” policy of Lazar’s approach helped the audience become attuned to and absorbed by the production’s specific style.

Musically, experienced early music specialist Michael Hofstetter held the performance firmly in his grip. The festival ensemble (Deutsche Händel-Solisten), with six first and second violins doubled by oboes, filled the theatre’s large auditorium with a luscious yet balanced sound, the execution of which was carefully thought through in stylistic terms. The continuo group was a bit bigger than is common in this repertoire, with two harpsichords, a theorbo and two lutes (one of them alternating with a guitar), but their use was well considered, depending on the instrumentation of the arias or the accompagnatos and the orchestral numbers, so that it never felt excessive. The choice of tempi served the expressive purpose of the music, leaving its flow uninterrupted, sufficiently contrasting the arias but unifying them under a common musical bow. The solos of the obbligato instruments, more frequent here than in some other Handel operas, were of superb quality in the case of the transverse flute of Costanza’s “Morte vieni” and the sopranino recorder in her “Il volo così fido”, whereas the timpani made an effective entry at the introductory “storm” accompagnato. The trumpets underlined the festive character of Riccardo’s triumph.

The singers were all equally superb. Nicholas Tamagna (Oronte) fades somewhat when compared to his countertenor colleague Franco Fagioli (Riccardo), but although he possesses a less fine instrument, he made up for this with excellent musicianship and some dedicated Lazar-style acting. Franco Fagioli took the latter a bit too far at times, especially in his artificial walk, and he didn’t exactly steal the show in musical terms, although he was advertised as the star of the evening. This may be due to the fact that Riccardo’s arias are at the same time the most virtuosic and the most uniform Handel wrote for Senesino. Fagioli, whose superb coloratura agility and – even more importantly – his vocal timbre bear a striking resemblance to Cecilia Bartoli, had few opportunities for expressive interpretation of the text or to display his mezza di voce. No wonder the successors of Cuzzoni and Faustina stole the show instead! Emily Hindrichs (Costanza), a regular member of the Staatstheater Karlsruhe’s ensemble, has a very flexible lyric soprano that worked with subtle dynamic nuances in “Morte vieni” but also projected sound in the more forceful arias. Claire Lefilliâtre as Pulcheria drew even more attention with her slightly darker timbre that makes her sound more like a mezzo soprano, although her voice is even in all registers, making her the ideal choice for Faustina roles. Last but not least, despite the fact that he sang only two, albeit exquisite arias, Lisandro Abadie as the tyrant Isacio deserves mention as one of the finest baritones out there when it comes to the repertory of eighteenth-century vocal music.

Writing this review after the magic of first impressions has settled, I cannot help but wonder whether Lazar and his associates’ approach to the immense diversity of Handel’s operas is perhaps a little generic. Specific medieval setting aside, would a production of some other Handel opera resemble this one a bit too much? It is difficult to say, although I cannot resist the impression that there is something particularly escapist about Lazar’s style. Perhaps the fact that Rolli and Handel had “polished” both the music and the action to suit the circumstances and the occasion makes the opera more suitable to the kind of smooth, unquestioning and slightly uncritical directorial interpretation displayed on this occasion? The production is so beautiful, so elevated and so distanced when compared to the Regietheater traditions of Handel performance we have become accustomed to that I would require more exposure to this style to appreciate the nuances. Besides bewitching us with their beauty, when done intelligently and with respect to the score, freer directorial dealings with Handel’s operas can bring them closer to our own “here and now”, drawing remarkable parallels and directing our attention to things we have never considered before, as did last year’s premiere of Siroe, re di Persia at the Göttingen Festival. Lazar’s production of Riccardo primo is like an engaging exhibition in a museum whose rooms we would be perfectly happy to explore for hours, as if in a wonderful dream that we do not want to be woken from.

Riccardo primo at the Handel Festival Karlsruhe has now finished its run. A revival is planned for 2015. 

Production photograph © Falk von Traubenberg (Franco Fagioli (Riccardo I.), Claire Lefilliâtre (Pulcheria)) .