BBC Proms 2009: Prom 4 - Tale of two Partenope's - CO Copenhagen/Mortensen

BBC Prom 4 - Handel: Partenope. Inge Dam-Jensen, Andreas Scholl, Tuva Semmingsen, Christophe Dumaux, Bo Kristian Jensen, Palle Knudsen, Concerto Copenhagen, Lars Ulrik Mortensen - Royal Albert Hall - July 19, 2009 (from Negrin production at Royal Danish Opera).

From context of what is apparently a somewhat abstract production of Handel’s Partenope has come for opening week of the BBC Proms this year a semi-staged reproduction of the same. Out of three times I have now heard Partenope, including a highly entertaining, provocative one led by Christopher Rousset from Queen Elisabeth Hall - production from Theater an der Wien - and the studio bound Chandos recording, this Royal Danish Opera visit has been the most effective.

In terms of edition used, pretty much in that regard alone (plus casting Kurt Streit in best voice as Emilio), the Chandos has still been the best – toward what satisfies composer’s intentions this way. Several arias were cut from both performances in London, including from Royal Danish Opera, the introduction aria “Se non ti sai spiegar” for Rosmira that makes a case for how she becomes convincing in presenting herself to others. “Sei mia gioia” for Partenope - the first time we musically get the sensuous side of the queen - and closing arias for both Arsace and Partenope were cut. The latter two of these got cut at Queen Elisabeth Hall as well. Curiously, Emilio’s speciously triumphant “La Gloria in nobil alma” got moved to the very start of Act 3 and sung by Ormonte instead. Replacing “Scherza, si” in the final scene was grafted in here an extended duet from another Handel opera – emphasis on ‘extended’ – for Partenope and Armindo. Given the nature of its text, it might have been more convincing to partner queen with Arsace instead.

Inge Dam-Jensen cut an imposing figure vocally and expressively as Partenope. Her voice, heavy in places, works less naturally for her in negotiating trills and the florid coloratura in her part. There was indeed some smudging here intermitently; high notes were often tense or strained. Her command of line though, as beautifully supported orchestrally at all times, was secure, starting from her first arioso and somewhat militant opening aria. In especially cutting out “Sei mia gioia” (type of aria that Mozart did not quite so overtly give Fiordiligi), the vanity of the queen came across over the air as understated, along with some of her allure.

Dam Jensen gave Partenope, the most confident - more so than of any of the men - of commanding an army the interpretation of “Io ti levo” to match such conception. It at least starting it kept such character to the fore more so than what amorous metaphor it can make out of entering combat. Dam-Jensen’s infusion of smoother legato as the aria progresses let in enough of the other side of the queen this piece presents - not for fear of it otherwise having bordered on going lopsided, two-dimensional on us. “Spera e godi” and “Un cor infedele” incisively conveyed moral indignation, without as with Christine Schafer for Rousset, being treated as ‘Come scoglio’ often is - with postmodernist irony. No doubt, the cleverness of it all - the take that Schafer gave it - was undeniable.

“Care mura”, in the absolutely complete shaping of this only almost two minute arioso, with separations in the line beautifully demarcated also by Mortensen and internal contrasts beautifully plumbed this way, confirmed that - if not textually complete - we were getting indeed otherwise a musically and psychologically (near-)complete portrayal of Partenope. Infusion of a degree of introspection for the da capo of both “Voglio amare” and “Qual farfalletta” - Dam-Jensen’s tone light for the former but heavier for opening of the latter – did verge on self-conscious, but such did not excessively detract from either impetus behind either aria or enjoyment thereof.

In what turned out here most convincingly a dramma giocoso for aristrocrats, Andreas Scholl’s air as Arsace was the most convincingly elite of three singers heard in this part; he was vocally the most even as well. He may not have plumbed the depths as much or with as much shading in “Ch’io la porta” in Act 3 as David Daniels did for Rousset. In so precise a manner, if a little too strict on avoiding use of vibrato here as he approached it, argument can be made for maintaining thus the simplicity of the line and expressive gesture as Scholl went about it. He very pleasingly framed the naivete or narcissism of Arsace with appropriately and flexibly stately presence and patrician air in his first two arias. Mortensen, instead of gilding or extra-vivifying the violins’ upward five note run-extensions, allowed Scholl more space than Rousset did Daniels to find the lack of masculinity about Arsace in his voice, interpretation of “Sento, amor” - wisely so as very colorful Daniels and Rousset together made this aria themselves.

Scholl and Mortensen beautifully observed appoggiaturi within the line for Arsace’s first lament, “Dimmi, pietoso” beautifully; Scholl especially uncovered its internal contrasts with great introspection and poise. With equal noble restraint and beautiful theorbo-enhanced accompaniment from Concerto Copenhagen, “Ma quai note” also became a highlight. Scholl, though finding the frequent excursions into the lower middle register for him a bit tricky, negotiated such into his furioso aria, “Furibondo” with the insight that there is more complexity to such a piece than just having to negotiate otherwise seemingly endless sequences of sextuplets, as paralleled by the strings. It was also only here that perhaps and with a little more courage a more direct musical and dramatic approach might be less self-conscious. Even through so much careful enveloping of what went on, the full thrust of Arsace’s plight and suffering was evident throughout.

Hardly any better than Scholl - given too that his assignment here was less demanding - was the Armindo of the other counter-tenor Christophe Dumaux. His voice has a fuller quality to it than does Scholl's, thus mildly more flexible to make more coloured nuance with it. Dumaux, wise to his task - more decisively than the character he plays - always held such in check, even during long extended duet from Sosarme he joined in with Dam-Jensen for this. With including this duet, Armindo practically became as important a character as any of the three leads. His voice, production thereof definitely sounded the most confident, even among three counter-tenors I have yet heard sing Armindo.

Dumaux characterized ‘Voglio dire” without having to rely upon or use vocal weakness to get Armindo's indecisiveness across, but on music and words alone - with so many of its pauses for simple turns in lower register. One then had no doubt that it was Handel’s music, not vocal issues. “Non chiedo, o luci vaghe” which so ingenuously almost imperceptibly started as growing out from recitative before was the height, musically and textually, of psychological subtlety. With equal vocal security and charm, Dumaux skipped lightly through “Nobil core”, which in this instance did not turn out being his final number in this.

Palle Knudsen, with two arias instead of one, made a stalwart, vocally sturdy Ormonte, baritonal in sound like Boesch for Rousset, but with better vocal security and depth. Bo Kirstian Jensen, pleasant in timbre, with his number of arias cut down from four to three, lacked vocal steadiness or anchor intonation wise for some of Emilio. He still managed to characterize the part well, greatly assisted by Mortensen in giving “Barbaro fato, si” shape of unusually high quality.

Saving the best for last from among an already strong cast was the Rosmira of Tuva Semmingsen. This is a good, sturdy voice without more than moderate variety of color at her disposal, but with great evenness covering a large range. The libretto for Handel’s Partenope is unusually strong, but should there be any singer who can make all so clearly vivid out of Handel recitative text within arias along with it, it is Semmingsen. She made a most subtle and pernicious villain of Rosmira, without failing to share with us this character's humanity - for character that does indeed deserve to get even. Under such circumstances, should they be real life, I most certainly would not want to be the Arsace - even with Semmingsen later on confiding Rosmira’s pangs of conscience. Could have Shakespeare made Iago a woman? If so, he might have sought out Tuva Semmingsen.

“Un altra volta ancora”, with incisive separations in phrasing made by Mortensen and his strings, sounded as far from being what one might conjecture to be Vivaldi concerto transcription writing as one will ever find for this aria. The ‘gelosia’s’ and ‘furore’s’ in “Furie son bell’alma mia” cut to the very core of one’s being to hear them, with varying inflection as to how each of them fits into each phrase. Even Rosmira's lines in “Un cor infedele” had one hanging on them so much, it made the piece seem much more complete, even longer than at being so brief, it really is. Even in the ‘horns’ aria that closes Act One - with very forthright valveless playing from ranks of Concerto Copenhagen - Semmingsen made one take notice, amidst so many turns and inversions, of what text lies beneath the text. This was as subtle and dangerous a Rosmira, villain as any Arsace will ever face.

Stitching such a complex web of plot together, with so much musical subtlety from a fine cast alone was Lars Ulrik Mortensen, the other hero of this performance. “Per le porte del suo tormento” from Sosarme was a uniquely beautiful event - so evenly and sensitively sung by Dam-Jensen and Dumaux. However, I doubt the philological correctness of this decision. Without seeing the Negrin production, the dramatic impetus for having done so remains unclear.

The text has to do with Elmira tending to the wounds of the Median (Medo-Persian) king Sosarme (though Handel's original source had action take place in or near Portugal). It might, especially after a Semmingsen Rosmira has done all her damage, better fit Partenope and Arsace instead of queen and Armindo. It even sounded mildly ironic to include it, in that here was a cast, with so much excellent support, making something very complete of the frequently to almost always shorter da capo arias in this opera than show up in more full-fledged opera seria of Handel. At a little over nine minutes, this was the one number in Partenope lasting at all over seven minutes - as situated in the usually brief final scene of the opera. In perhaps anticipation of the new music, there was for good stretch of Act Three some lapse in vitality overall; even so, the quality of music-making and acting remained very high.

Mortensen has a knack, unusual for ‘period’ but without unduly romanticizing anything he does, for finding the internal shape to phrase structure in da capo arias and of leading his singers right into what he does. He does so not to show off the beauty of his craft, but towards bringing out the very best, helping flesh out the most character his singers and other participants can offer. He would even employ a little phrasing from behind to so ingenuously delineate what he needed for several arias. Accuracy of intonation and ensemble of Concerto Copenhagen – other than for perhaps openly rowdy concertato playing in the ‘horns’ aria – was spot on the entire way. As for the horns, attempting to make cuckold out of the Rosmira, how so when Tuva Semmingsen? Fat chance! The rhythmic definition and ensemble fullness for the overture that opened Partenope had one anticipate well even Mortensen's firm, eloquent, never glutinous accompaniment to ”Ma, quai note.”


Play with direct imitation (and other device), such as between separated phrasing in violins for the queen’s “Qual farfalletta” always strongly brought out character. Support from an undercurrent of gently firm pulsation in “Voglio amare”, again for the queen, was most insightful and complete – even as antithetical in a way to how the also fine Christopher Rousset conducted it for Schafer. Rubato for all of this and more was at Mortensen’s most supple and flexible command. Laughter from the hall at certain amount of antics occurring onstage never sounded achieved as anything cheap, but in harmony with all that transpired both musically and dramatically.

So much that Mortensen does matches up ‘period’ with always genuinely expressed Romantic values, as from a generation or two past, without denying the virtues of presenting Handel’s music at high level of purity of conception - and of grace. In addition to this joining their Giulio Cesare on the dvd market, there will have to be more – hopefully an Alcina in the not too distant future.

Tale of two Partenope's - Part 1 - Rousset/Audi - Queen Elisabeth Hall - as beside mall at President & First Lady or LA Fitness

Handel’s Partenope at Queen Elisabeth Hall (production from Theater an der Wien) received a most provocative and well organized performance, if not vocally always the most suave. This is indeed a very interesting work, one somehow unjustly neglected over good number of years while other Handel operas started to get more frequently revived. It marked Handel’s second opera and first success during a five year stint called ‘Second Academy’ for which the Royal Opera authorities gave Handel and colleague Johan Heidegger free rein as to how to run business. Several years earlier, numerous Italian virtuosi had abandoned the islands to return home instead to work.

What has perhaps made Partenope somewhat less fully embraced than other Handel operas is an apparent elusiveness, withholding from being as fully engaged or believing in the full integrity of its characters, and yet as has been pointed out, this may be the best libretto Handel ever set to music. For those who read between the lines and dig it out to the right extent, it works quite well as a comedy. The heroism expected for two to three leading parts is understated; conventions of Italian opera, expected in London at the time to be treated with respect, got handled with degree of irreverence instead. As Winston Dean pointed out, the cross-dressing habits of one out of three leading characters here (constantly taking down the leading hero of this story a notch or two) and interaction that ensues from character on stage like this could have been very disconcerting to an audience of Protestant tastes. The da capo arias, two or three of which here succinctly allow the not so morally edifying hero of this tale, Arsace, to recognizably plumb the very depths of despair - such as happens in both Ariodante and other Handel opera seria - are on average shorter than previously has been the case.

Christine Schafer put to doubt notion that the title role of the queen, as described by Dean and others, is merely a simple, fun-loving character. Schafer, according to whatever agenda, brought out an inner agitation (already in the music) to this character not readily found in Rosemary Joshua’s conventional take on the part on disc (Chandos). In pushing for achieving desired dramatic effects, some obvious strain ensued. Her dramatic, also musical insights just almost made up for whatever lapses occurred vocally, lapses which just somewhat diminished as the evening wore on.

What pre-Cosi Fan Tutte aspects of this work there are, the more aesthetically pleasing way of singing this part does not always necessarily bring them out as well as did Schafer. Except for having to push it vocally, she certainly could be in a qualified way a natural at Fiordiligi. Partenope came across as though character similarly vulnerable. “Qual farfalletta”, as light-hearted and popular a piece from Partenope there is, had all the charm it needed. In spite of moments of strain, Schafer revealed, deftly pointed, a woman of experience, at both life and in affairs of the heart – with her being so ‘enlightened’ and free in taking so much on. Not too many pages apart from trio perhaps too short to get across all what Schafer reckoned it should – expressed moral outrage to extent did her cutting, incisive, syncopated “Spera e godi”. All three characters for the brief “Un cor infedele” were clearly differentiated, with support Rousset provided.

Christine Schafter started off tentatively with the bravura aria “L’Amor ed il destin” – tone hooty and insecurity at break and above. Schafer willed the cheerful, seductive aria “Sei mia gioia” with agile coloratura, making regal bearing of the queen palpable, but still only achieved good results with this. “Io ti levo” also sounded unsteady though with hearty D-Flat for Schafer to peal out right before the end of it. Schafer still spun out a beautifully connected line affirming the noble, imperious aspects of Partenope in this first of two very noble arias for her.

“Voglio amare” was perhaps most interesting of all, offering some of Schafer’s best singing of the evening. Christine Schafer made Partenope here, while singing a partly apologetic text, sound just reasonably tough - as to expose a character at pains to hide what vulnerabilities the queen indeed has. It could not have been easy for Schafer to have come up with all this – attention on how to sing Handel more than enough for many – but as determined as Schafer can be to make such happen, here it did. The brief arioso “Care mura”right before “Voglio amare” made evident what vocal warmth Schafer can still provide. Schafer’s ironic, mock-heroic take on the queen, including especially a trumpeted high A for her at the end of “Sei mia gioia” - was insightful, making for great diversion even in a work of more modest proportions such as this.

David Daniels was given the musically gratuitous, if dramatically thankless part of the shifty, weak-willed hero Arsace. Arsace’s opening aria with its stepwise continuo obbligato and haughtily charming “Sento amor” (the latter exposing hooty quality on top) came across as glibly insouciant, complacent - as though quite unaware of the traps being set for him. With urgent pacing from the pit, Daniels only almost lost focus during the almost endlessly spinning out vortices down from E(-Flat) of sextuplets in ‘Furibondo spira il vento" - stormy finale to Act Two. He still made an exciting challenge, showcase of it, of its furious emotions. The easier, somewhat inconsequential “Poterti dir vorrei” and closing bravura,“Fatto e amor”, with its taxing runs at vocal midrange, were cut.

With its proto-late-Mozartean qualities of extended appoggiaturas with beautifully prepared harmonic support, “Dimmi, pietoso ciel” opened what are three Lamentations of Arsace. Daniels sang this first one with beautiful legato in middle register, where much of it sits; nuance with such lines and fearlessness of being declamatory with several lines where called for (without pushing anything much) were notable. “Ch’io parta?” and “Ma quai note” were both big highlights of the evening. For Lawrence Zazzo, singing it at stately, regular pace with grief-stricken tone (on Curnyn set on Chandos) apparently was enough for both of these numbers. Daniels went the second mile, with seemingly limitless breath control, spinning out the line through the melismas of “Ch’io parta?” with genuine and expansive breadth of line and specific shape – all very deeply affecting. His trailing off the ends of phrases to a whisper, and with the discipline not to self-consciously dovetail doing so or layer on any other mannerism for “Ma quai note” was equally haunting. I have not ever heard better from David Daniels than his Arsace here.

Mezzo and pair of counter-tenors hardly seem distinguishable from each other on Chandos. Patricia Bardon here played Rosmira. Vocally, she suffered from some unsteadiness, but character and purpose in mind still had a little more than half of the clarity it needed. Her pointed ‘gelosia’s’ in “Furie son dell’alma mia” (a piece Charles Burney said he found rude and uncouth) - all of this aria practically choking with rage and risking considerable security vocally – made an impact. Rousset similarly took “Io seguo sol fiero” (‘horns aria’), finale to Act One ferociously, with Bardon reportedly tearing about the stage. Unsteadiness aside, Bardon’s voice had the greater flexibility and opportunity for color, subtle insinuation where necessary than Hillary Summers provided on disc. Bardon made Rosmira the more fully human and three-dimensional. Except for several weak low notes, Bardon started confident with “Se non ti sai spiegar” and found good introspection for pang of conscience in arioso form early on in Act 3.


Matthias Rexroth as the acutely indecisive Armindo provided deep sound in low register, prudently and approached high notes lightly, characterizing his part well, but lacked vocal distinction. He attended to overall shape to the line of “Nobil core”, with fine support from Rousset (eschewing the jerking about of its gigue rhythms) very well, making for both cheerful and successful close to his part – just having perhaps won in this staging two for the price of one, since here the queen’s captain has the hots for him as well. Florian Boesch was the light-voiced captain Ormonte - found to ham things up a bit during the finale to the opera. His only aria - with tune motivically similar to another aria nearby - helps make metaphor between lovemaking and campaigning in battle real.

Emilio is the part in Partenope to fill in whatever gaps in plot development whenever useful, and yet Handel fills out the part to extent this eventually becomes an interesting character in most respects. He is there to, alone among Partenope’s suitors, put up manly challenge to her disdain of his amorous advances and rival kingdom and to react with masculine despondency when he loses in battle. He is then later, in style of writing that previews Ferrando in Cosi Fan Tutte, the person to salve Arsace’s wounds at not so much the hand as rhetoric of Rosmira. Kurt Streit had Christopher Rousset’s complete help in delineating all aspects and most of all dramatic functions of Emilio. Vocal delivery is less smooth from Streit than six years ago when he joined Curnyn for Chandos, but in place of singing just musically, a full character emerged here. The victorious bravura aria that Emilio closes with sits quite low, bound to cause Streit trouble this way; he did not find it insurmountable.

Leaps, inversions of octaves and sevenths in “Anch’io pugnar sapro”, Streit's opening aria, had from Rousset as well just the right ironic touch, as opposed to sounding pedantic. “Barbaro, fato si” was incisively defiant.“La speme ti consoli”, one of my favorite arias in Partenope, such as Mozart could have heard or musically had written for Ferrando, had the flexibility to make sense of and emotionally fill out Emilio’s lines with lovely nuance. It was such that it was credible that Arsace could have found some comfort or balm from this. Streit, still in fine voice, proved himself still up to this challenge that Handel wrote for virtuoso tenor Annibale Pio Fabri.

Speaking of irony, the new Pierre Audi production seemed to have come with it in spades. The infusion of so much vital passion in Christine Schafer’s interpretation made the staging quite a foil to her singing of the title role. One from the look of it could have expected instead the frivolity of valley girl casual glibness or indifference – greatest concern how well the personal trainer for daily jog and massage vis-à-vis what traffic issues may factor in, makes it to the gym on time for scheduled appointments. It is reassuring to know that we still have val girl types out there who know and how to express what is more important in life. Could there be a sufficiently quiet treadmill, to put onstage, especially to match Rousset’s tempos for “Furibondo” and ‘horns aria?’

None of this would have worked, had it not been for the supreme flexibility and wonderful working musical knowledge of Christopher Rousset, leading Les Talents Lyriques – optimum in ensemble, tuning, rhythms and the spirit of this music. I felt quite taken aback by the theatricality of Rousset’s musical insights, for being instrumentalist-turned-conductor he is. I feared a little toward start of this some choppiness, clipping, what have you; those fears greatly diminished quite rapidly as time passed by. There was no contentment here expressed with merely having proper baroque stylization of everything down without turning other elements of Partenope as well into music.

As an aside, it is perhaps churlish to pick on a studio recording, such as that of Christian Curnyn. I just could not help being reminded of Christopher Hogwood live six years ago in Houston for Ariodante - how very content he was to stop right where it is apparent that Curnyn has also. Moreover, Hogwood openly admitted his complete, highly ungrateful disdain for the fine David Alden production that came with him for Ariodante.

There was no grand-standing from Rousset either – other than quite humorously so right before the end of this opera – how he boldly jumped in to begin the forty second sinfonia to start the final scene. Even taking several daring tempos, Rousset was always very mindful of turning every phrase to good extent it should. His work with his singers was very thorough. For example, he aided Bardon on flexibly effective contrast of emphasis and color between insistent repeat musically of figuration, runs, in her last aria “Qual volto mi piace,” then curiously moved “Nobil core” (in similar gigue rhythm) for Armindo to several numbers later in the act. Several arias (elsewhere) got cut, and some recitative - only some of which not missed.

Handel, as our familiarity with Messiah can fool us, does not spell out how to use the virtuosity of his writing to flesh out character, even quirks thereof. He relied instead on his interpreters. In Rousset and also in this cast having made such complete ensemble effort, Handel had very close to what he wanted here. We can only hope for soon an upcoming dvd release of this new production, even as hard on the heels of one from Copenhagen - to be played semi-staged at the BBC Proms.