Giulio Cesare, Metropolitan Opera HD Live, April 27 2013

This was a tough one. I dragged myself out of bed, early, only because I’d promised a friend that I would pick him up at 8am and bring him to the theater for the 9am start time. Otherwise I’d have stayed in bed and not missed a whole lot.

The basic set consisted of four square pillars on each side of the stage, marching from front to back, with square lentils connecting them. At the back of the stage there were four long cylinders stretching from left to right, featuring helical ridges, the whole intended as a representation of ocean waves, and a far less effective one than a similar system used in the Jean-Pierre Ponelle Flying Dutchman of some decades ago. Various sea-going ships were often seen on these waves: square-rigged sailing ships, battleships, and near the end a cruise ship. From time to time brightly-colored curtains (like the curtain at the front of the stage) were drawn between the pillars to form an interior space, and at one point the stage became quite shallow, with a backdrop of a vastly magnified old map of a shoreline and sea. Costumes were updated to the time of the opera’s premiere, with the chorus (or were they just supers?) dressed as British redcoats. At the end, Cleopatra appeared in a Louis XIV-era dress several feet wide from side to side.  

Our cast:  
Giulio Cesare (Julius Caesar): David Daniels
Cleopatra: Natalie Dessay
Cornelia: Patricia Bardon
Sesto (Sextus): Alice Coote
Tolomeo (Ptolemy): Christophe Dumaux
Curio (Curius): John Moore
Nireno (Nirenus): Rachid Ben Abdeslam
Achilla (Achillas): Guido Loconsolo
Conductor: Harry Bicket
Production: David McVicar

 Three countertenors (Julius, Ptolemy, Nireno) is a tall order for someone not yet fully acquainted with baroque opera. On top of that, there is a pants role for the young man Sextus. On top of that I was really not well and spent a good share of my energy trying to avoid being too disruptive with my coughing. Net result was that I really wasn’t all there and not particularly capable of appreciating what was going on. But I was left with a very positive appreciation of the only female role, Cornelia, ably sung by Patricia Bardon, and of some first-act aria containing some lovely horn work. The production was “updated” but fell short of being actively offensive, unless you count Ptolemy, killed earlier, reappearing in the final scene with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, along with the equally dead Achillas, bloody from head to toe. The music was pleasant enough but little of it was memorable. Giulio Cesare has been described as Handel’s most popular opera, but in my book that accolade goes to Semele. It will be OK if it’s a long time before I see Giulio Cesare again. A gamma.