Jephtha: ROH

[Ein Heldenleben]

Cut and pasted from the Times Classic app

Royal Opera House

Richard Morrison
★★★☆☆
Full of clever touches, some of which work, Oliver Mears’s new Royal Opera production certainly sidesteps the biggest pitfall awaiting anyone staging one of Handel’s oratorios about Israelite triumphs. His interpretation of the sombre, dark-hued Jephtha, one of the composer’s last works, is clearly not related to Israel, either ancient or modern.
Instead it is set in Handel’s England — which, in one way, is just as appropriate. Some scholars think Handel used so many stories from Jewish history to tap into the growing belief among the 18th-century British that they themselves were God’s “new” chosen race. Either way, in this version, played claustrophobically between the huge inscribed sliding
slabs of Simon Lima Holdsworth’s set, the Israelites are turned into a brainwashed Puritan cult (on hire from The Handmaid’s Tale, it seems) while their enemies, the Ammonites, have a lot more fun as Hogarthian rakes and floozies.
But that’s not Mears’s most provocative directorial intervention. Jephtha is the Israelite leader who vows that if God grants him victory in battle he will sacrifice the first living thing he sees — only for it to be his
own daughter, Iphis. The original story ends in rejoicing when an angel declares that Iphis can be spared if she leads a life of chaste virginity instead.
Mears subverts all that — a decision that requires pretty well every performer to act in the opposite way to the words being uttered. Iphis, plangently sung by Jennifer France, refuses to stay a virgin, and the Puritans rise up against Jephtha who, in Allan Clayton’s admirably intense performance, is a vicious

[Ein Heldenleben]

tyrant. Mind you, chucking him into prison, in what appears to be a cast-off costume for Marley’s Ghost, seems harsh for a man who has just delivered the oratorio’s hit tune, Waft Her, Angels, through the Skies, in the most sublime of head-voices.
Too much of the staging is tepid, however. “Scenes of horror, scenes of woe,” howls Jephtha’s wife, Storge, sung with blazing fervour by Alice Coote. If only there were some! Instead, the slaughter of the Ammonites, accompanied by am-dram screaming, sets the audience laughing.
There’s also too much histrionic sobbing, and flat
singing, from the counter-tenor Cameron Shahbazi as Iphis’s boyfriend Hamor, and other musical mis-hits. Entrusting the angel’s florid aria to a boy treble is a big ask. So too is the idea of bringing the chorus singers into the auditorium for the final number; they are often out of time with the orchestra even when on stage. Pity, because the orchestra plays stylishly under Laurence Cummings’s direction.
To November 24, roh.org.uk
Follow @timesculture to read the latest reviews

[duncan]

Whilst we're waiting for Belgrove's comprehensive review (no pressure!)...

I saw this on Friday. An enjoyable but slightly underwhelming evening. I love Handel's stage works and the ROH is on a roll with them but this didn't quite hit the heights of the previous two productions. I'm not sure if this is the work, which I'm not familiar with, this production, or whether I was having an off-night. The soloists were very good but the chorus were unusually a little under-par on this evening: not always together (notably in the second act) and sounding like a collection of individuals, a nineteenth century operatic chorus, rather than an ensemble for a Baroque oratorio. The band played well but, again, seemed a tiny bit sluggish.

The Israelites were dressed as a non-specific Protestant sect. They could have been 17th or 18th century but there were hints of The Handmaiden's Tale. The Ammonites, in their brief appearance, looked like Handel's audience might have done had they had access to 21st century clothing dyes, dentists, and fitness trainers. They seemed to be having a lot more fun than the Israelites which obviously couldn't be allowed so they rapidly came to a messy end. There was a certain amount of brandishing sheets of text at various points. Without giving away the ending, the final message seemed to be to not take the holy writ too literally. Using Protestant extremists as a stand-in for other Biblical warring parties is almost becoming a trope: a bit like English baddies in Hollywood movies, no-one is going to complain too much.

There was not much in the way of scenery, just two imposing grey slabs with inscriptions which rotated into different configurations. The overall look was relentlessly bleak, I prefer my Handel with brothels and pole-dancing!

[oddoneout]

Whilst we're waiting for Belgrove's comprehensive review (no pressure!)...

I saw this on Friday. An enjoyable but slightly underwhelming evening. I love Handel's stage works and the ROH is on a roll with them but this didn't quite hit the heights of the previous two productions. I'm not sure if this is the work, which I'm not familiar with, this production, or whether I was having an off-night. The soloists were very good but the chorus were unusually a little under-par on this evening: not always together (notably in the second act) and sounding like a collection of individuals, a nineteenth century operatic chorus, rather than an ensemble for a Baroque oratorio. The band played well but, again, seemed a tiny bit sluggish.

The Israelites were dressed as a non-specific Protestant sect. They could have been 17th or 18th century but there were hints of The Handmaiden's Tale. The Ammonites, in their brief appearance, looked like Handel's audience might have done had they had access to 21st century clothing dyes, dentists, and fitness trainers. They seemed to be having a lot more fun than the Israelites which obviously couldn't be allowed so they rapidly came to a messy end. There was a certain amount of brandishing sheets of text at various points. Without giving away the ending, the final message seemed to be to not take the holy writ too literally. Using Protestant extremists as a stand-in for other Biblical warring parties is almost becoming a trope: a bit like English baddies in Hollywood movies, no-one is going to complain too much.

There was not much in the way of scenery, just two imposing grey slabs with inscriptions which rotated into different configurations. The overall look was relentlessly bleak, I prefer my Handel with brothels and pole-dancing!

I thought it was more a case of read - and remember - the whole text, not just part of it - the story wouldn't have been so dramatic if he had!

[Belgrove]

Oliver Mears couldn’t have known when planning this production that events would make the underlying scenario all too current, his revival, after 270 years since it’s previous show at Covent Garden, sets the plot in approximately Handel’s time rather than ours. Ein Heldenleben posted Richard Morrison’s review from the Times (for which thanks), so we know Mears’ take on the work. But I do think that it is a poor piece of journalism. Any professional reviewer should know how to give the perspective of a production without including spoilers, and he gives away Mears’ reinvention of the work’s conclusion. I’m no tongue-clicking pearl-clutcher when it comes to productions reinterpreting the originator’s ‘intentions’. If a rethink works, then it can shed fresh light, provoke thought and debate. Handel’s librettist Morell reworked the Book of Judges’ all too brief account to better suit the public of his day, and was so bold as to give Jephtha’s daughter a name and a voice! So no sticking to the original sources there. And Mears, in giving a happier outcome for Iphis but a grimmer one for Jephtha, does not do any great harm to the work in my opinion. Indeed, Jephtha’s ultimate fate may well presage that of Israel’s present leader, giving an oblique immediacy to Mears’ production after all.

There is little to add to duncan’s excellent account, other than to draw attention to the striking use of lighting to enhance the largely monochrome palette. There is a weird visual effect towards the end of Storgé’s (rather lame) nightmare that nevertheless points to the uncanny, reminiscent of Robert Eggars’ The Witch (also set in a hard-line, ecstatic puritan society).

Allan Clayton has made something of a specialty of playing outsiders, and he fits the bill here, looking suitably unhinged, his diction is exemplary. The most involving character is Iphis despite her function as victim. Jennifer France provided the best singing of the evening. As noted, the chorus was a bit ragged to start with but improved as the evening progressed.

Oratorios can be successfully staged and updated, Theodora at Glyndebourne and more recently at Covent Garden proved this. But solving the problem of what to do in the da cappo arias and choruses without halting the dramatic development requires both invention and care. Adele Thomas’ Semele at Glyndebourne failed in this regard, and Mears only partially succeeds. There are bits of the scenario which do not fit together smoothly, actions being at variance with words, visuals being insufficiently interesting.

So what should we take away from it (wearing our 21st century hats, rather than 18th century periwigs, or the in-vogue headgear of circa 700 BCE)? It’s pretty simple if not earth shatteringly original I think, beware of the consequences that flow from appealing to dogmatic zealotry for solving present ills. A message that was ever thus.

I found this to be a thoughtful and interesting production, but a bit underwhelming. Had I not initiated this thread in high anticipation, and thereby feeling duty bound to say something about it, I wouldn’t choose to draw attention to it. It will be broadcast on R3 on 16th December.