Covent Garden

Francisco Negrin’s jokey staging of Handel’s great “madness” opera took a critical bashing when the Royal Opera first staged it in 2003. And it’s true that the stuffed sheep, the dancing Venus with her boobs hanging out and the Whitehall-farce moments when the cast chase each other through a strenuously symbolic set (by Anthony Baker) that twirls like the magic roundabout, all sit uneasily on a story in which the central figure, driven insane by unrequited love, murders two others and terrorises a third.

But what a difference a new cast and conductor make! Suddenly Negrin’s postmodern quirks (which have, in any case, been toned down) seem incidental. The focus is back where it should always be in Handel: on singers capable of conveying turbulent emotions by the power of voice and the integrity of gesture alone, and on playing so alert and impassioned that it adds a new dimension to the drama.

The period-instrument Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment played in 2003, too. But now they are conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras. The Aussie may be 81, but he infuses the big, racy arias with such thrilling energy, keeps the ensemble so tight and treats the pathos of the final act with such delicate poignancy that every tyro who aspires to conduct 18th-century opera should be made to attend all his shows, take notes, and sit a written examination afterwards. His pacing of Orlando’s madness scene, the most jolting sequence in all Handel, is a masterclass in itself.

Such magisterial direction fills singers with confidence. Rosemary Joshua as Angelica — the queen who tragically picks the wrong knight to spurn — worried me with her effortful high notes. But as Orlando’s hostility turned murderous, so her singing gained in touching lyricism. Anna Bonitatibus, playing Orlando’s rival, Medoro, lost her intonation in places, but displayed some warm mezzo tone. And the bass-baritone Kyle Ketelsen was excellent as Zoroastro, the shadowy magus who restores everyone to health and sanity for an ironic “happy ending”.

But the evening’s two stars are the counter-tenor Bejun Mehta and the soprano Camilla Tilling. The latter is wonderfully kooky as the put-upon shepherdess Dorinda, attempting to blot out irritations (such as her homicidal stalker) with a little light yoga, and singing with glorious exuberance.

Even she, however, is upstaged by Mehta’s Orlando ( pictured with Suzanne McNaughton as Venus ). The role was written for the greatest castrato of Handel’s age, and I have never heard a counter-tenor come so close to suggesting what power an adult male would have achieved in a high register. But it’s not just his trumpet-like tone or spitfire coloratura that impresses. Mehta’s a good actor too, and conveys Orlando’s mental disintegration superbly. With performances like these, three hours of music pass in the twinkling of a mad, staring eye.

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