Without Tunbridge Wells, there would be no Ariodante. Depleted by financial worries and the intrigues of his rivals, Handel snuck off to the Kent and Sussex borders in the winter of 1734-5 to take the waters, before returning refreshed with one of his last great operatic masterpieces tucked under his arm. Together with the equally masterful Alcina, these were his last major operatic statements before he switched dramatic genres into oratorio.
As a product of the composer’s masterful maturity, Ariodante is a work that has all the attributes of Baroque opera developed to the highest degree – showpiece da capo arias of sustained brilliance and nuanced pathos, not just for the principals but running right down the cast list; a full orchestral palette including horns and trumpets, and several balletic set-pieces. There is royalty, rivalry and roguery; deception, despair and duels, and a rainbow of extreme emotional states whose colours are pinpointed and probed in radiant music of devastating psychological depth and acuity.
The plot is derived from Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso, with all the unlikely twists and turns you might expect, but within the conventions of the genre it succeeds very well – the characters have more depth and complexity than is often the case, and the emotional and musical moods rock back and forth in satisfying balance. What starts as a festive anticipation of a wedding between Ariodante and Ginevra becomes, through the intrigues of Polinesso and duplicity of Dalinda, a searing exploration of suicidal thoughts and madness, before finally all is put back in order in both family and state. The technical demands on singers, players and actors are very high; but when they are met the concluding triumphal music seems fully earned after the most exacting of quests.
This is certainly the case in the production by Opéra Royal de Versailles, where there are no weak links in the cast, the orchestral playing is superlative, and the ballet choreography is deftly contrived to be both of the period and accessibly expressive. And then of course there is the majestic setting of Louis XV’s period theatre, a triumph of gilded trompe l’oeuil ideally suited to support and sustain the epic illusions of Baroque theatre, if not those of the French Monarchy.
In the title role Franco Fagioli takes a while to warm up, but any performer of this role is ultimately judged by their handling of the two great arias, ‘Scherza infida’ and ‘Doppo Notte’, and here he is fully up to the stiff challenges involved. The ornamentation was exquisitely judged, showy, but also sensitive; and there was lovely dialogue with the orchestra whose tempi and dynamics were expertly calibrated by conductor Stefan Plewniak.
Catherine Trottmann’s portrayal of Ginevra also rose to the occasion, whether in the early numbers of frothy display or in the extremes of near madness after she is falsely accused of two-timing Ariodante. This was an impressively physical embodiment of the inner life of the character. The same could be said of Gwendoline Blondeel as her sister, Dalinda. She likewise comes apart memorably once her character appreciates the consequences of the deception in which she participated; and she also acts very well when on stage in reaction to the singing and movement of others.
Handel’s bass parts can sometimes be somewhat underwritten, but that is not the case here where Nicolas Brooymans has a lot to do as Ginevra’s father, the king. Despite a wig the size of a sheep, he sang with feeling and without bluster, always reacting credibly to events. Théo Imart and Laurence Kilsby, as Polinesso and Lucarnio, were pure and fearless in both tone and coloratura, as well as forceful presences in stage interaction. These are two young singers to look out for.
Costumes and sets were steeped in the Baroque period aesthetic, but not slavishly so. Painted backdrops rose and fell delightfully to take us from palace to garden and wilderness and back again, as if we were leafing through a folder of drawings by Piranesi. But the formal garden had a touch of the hedges in the Draughtsman’s Contract too; and if the outfits referenced Scotland (the opera’s notional location) then it was rather more Alexander McQueen than Bonnie Prince Charlie.
As all twelve chandeliers in the theatre lit up to greet the return of sunshine, and Fagioli entered into his third repeat of ‘Doppo notte’, even more stratospheric and variedly splendiferous than its predecessors, we felt not only the joy and irresistible release of the moment, but joy in such a perfect realisation of the heroic aims and vision of Baroque opera itself.
Fortunately, another aspect of this vision comes to London next June, when Fagioli, Plewniak, and the Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal come to St Martin’s in the Fields with their programme: Arias for Velluti, the last Castrato.
Georg Friedrich Handel
Director: Nicolas Briançon
Conductor: Stefan Plewniak
Cast: Nicolas Brooymans, Gwendoline Blondeel, Franco Fagioli, Théo Imart, Laurence Kilsby, Catherine Trottmann
Académie de danse baroque de l’Opéra Royal/Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal
3 hrs 30 mins, with interval
11 December 2025
Photo Credit: Geoffrey Hubbel