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Rodelinda, Metropolitan Opera, New York

By Martin Bernheimer

Published: May 3 2006 18:05 | Last updated: May 3 2006 18:05

Many opera lovers – sometimes even this one – pine for the golden past when singers could really soar in the romantic arches of Verdi. Of course, hardly anyone in those not-so-distant days could manage Handel. Now the woods are full of florid-flight specialists, and even countertenors come a dollar a dozen. The only authentic element missing, thank goodness, is the castrato.

All this came to mind on Tuesday when the mighty Met revived its popular production of Rodelinda, anno 2004. The cast included two recent arrivals, both falsettists, plus a new conductor. Still, the standards stayed high.

In this convoluted story of courtly love, hate, intrigue and reconciliation, Andreas Scholl has inherited the heroic duties from David Daniels. The German virtuoso commands tones considerably lighter and brighter than those of his predecessor, but he sang with stylish poise and acted with expressive point. Christophe Dumaux, who took over as the secondary good-guy, exuded sympathy though he lacked Bejun Mehta’s vocal bravado.

Otherwise it was Handelian business as usual, elegant business, with Renée Fleming unfailingly exquisite as the lofty protagonist and Stephanie Blythe unfailingly sumptuous as her descending counterforce. Kobie van Rensburg remained gently crafty as the reformed usurper, and John Relyea boomed darkly as the nemesis on the premises. Inheriting the baton from Harry Bicket, Patrick Summers reinforced suavity, propulsion and refinement.

Stephen Wadsworth’s busy production, which propels the seventh-century plot to the 18th, makes effective use of emotive poses, artful choreography and balanced compositions, some fussy-business notwithstanding (did we really need that live horse?). Martin Pakledinaz’s Baroque costumes look lavish.

Thomas Lynch’s realistic decors frame the inaction picturesquely, though they overwork the stage machinery. Even clap-happy Met audiences can tire of sets that roll from one lush locale to another all night long. The night, not incidentally, lasts four hours. ★★★★☆

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