One of Handel's last oratorios, and most critically acclaimed. It concerns two Christian saints, Theodora and Didymus, who were martyred, allegedly, in the fourth century, though from what I've read, it seems extremely unlikely that they actually existed. But that is neither here nor there, obviously.
So there's going to be a festival to some goddesses, and anyone refusing to celebrate will be executed. Sounds like a party! Didymus is a soldier who has secretly become a Christian, and he objects to this idea, but is overruled. His friend and coworker Septimius sympathizes but feels powerless to resist. Theodora, a foreign princess, is secretly taking part in Christian rites. Theodora is arrested (or maybe they're all arrested--it's sort of hard to tell; the action in oratorios is typically vaguer than in operas-proper). She's going to be sentenced to a fate worse than death as a temple prostitute. Didymus, her secret lover, goes to rescue her by exchanging clothes so she can secretly get out. She does, but not wanting Didymus to die in her place, she goes back and they die together. Your mileage may vary as to whether that's an improvement.
It's Handel, so how is it not going to be good? This is musically great, for sure. There are a few up-tempo numbers, but for the most part, this is the slower, more contemplative side of baroque music, as befits the subject matter. There is a narrative, obviously, but it feels a bit less naturally suited to operazation than Semele, Hercules, or Belshazzar--lot of characters appearing to sing and making you think, wait, why is this character suddenly present? But I'm not complaining.
This 1996 production by Peter Sellars is, like, a big deal, clearly: it was done at Glyndebourne with a very impressive cast, including Dawn Upshaw in the title role, sexual predator David Daniels as Didymus, and Richard Croft as Septimius. And yet, I am not so sure about this production.
The first thing you'll notice about it is the way all the Roman officers are wearing these orange jumpsuits. I think they're meant to be Air Force pilots, but they could be astronauts. They could be racecar drivers. Regardless, why are they supposed to be whatever they're supposed to be? Extremely hard to say. It's a modern-day production, obviously, and I think it's trying to say something about American authoritarianism. It's certainly trying to say something about the barbarism of American capital punishment, as the leads are executed by lethal injection. And then--seemingly neither here nor there--the characters keep making these weird, stylized gesticulations for reasons I can't even speculate at. And Daniels and Croft both have name patches with their actual names (ie, "D. Daniels" and "R. Croft") on them. Why? It is a mystery.
Do I think that this is an appropriate place to vent your feelings about capital punishment in the US? Not so much! I mean, if this were Dead Man Walking, then okay; you know what you signed up for. But a Handel oratorio? Come on. But, you know, while that part's clear enough, I really don't know what else Sellars was going for. I doubt he was trying for some kind of right-wing persecution fantasy about Christians in America today, but that's something that unavoidably presents itself as a possibility. So, you can sort of understand bits and pieces, but there's so much here that's bizarre, ham-handed, and nonsensical that unless he was specifically going for "inscrutable gibberish" I think he failed in whatever his goal was.
Someone uploaded this to youtube, so at least it was free, but there's actually another production of it which I probably would have liked more.
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