Handel’s 1724 baroque opera “Giulio Cesare in Egitto” (“Julius Caesar in Egypt”) could just as easily been named “Cleopatra.” The Roman may have conquered Egypt, but she bewitched him. Decca has just released a 2-DVD set of the 2012 Salzburg Whitsun production, starring mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli (the artistic director of the festival) as Cleopatra. She is the production’s greatest asset.
The opera starts with the Egyptian people welcoming Julius Caesar to Alexandria, where he is pursuing his enemy Pompey. The king of the Egyptians, Ptolemy, sends Caesar a gift—the head of Pompey.
Sextus, Pompey’s son, promises his mother Cornelia that he will bring justice to his father’s murderer.
Ptolemy’s sister Cleopatra wants to wrest power from her brother, and she decides to win Caesar’s affection. Meanwhile, Ptolemy learns that Caesar is not happy with his “gift” and plots his murder.
Cleopatra presents herself to Caesar under the assumed identity of a servant named Lydia, who has been wronged by Ptolemy. She convinces him to help her and also offers to help Cornelia and Sextus in their plot against her brother.
However, the Egyptian king achieves the upper hand by sending Sextus to prison and Cornelia to his harem. Both Ptolemy and his general Achillas have designs on Pompey’s widow.
After many complications, Ptolemy’s army defeats Caesar’s and, believing the Roman is dead, the Egyptian king puts his sister in chains. Caesar turns up and frees her, while Sextus kills Ptolemy. Caesar makes amends with Cornelia and Sextus and places Cleopatra, whom he loves, on the throne.
The 4 1/2-hour opera seria contains a variety of emotions, from romantic and playful to mournful and angry. Bartoli may not be the most physically alluring Cleopatra, but her singing is wonderful and she acts with gusto.
Also making a strong impression is Anne Sofie von Otter as Cornelia, who suffers the loss of her husband and then is sexually harassed by Ptolemy and Achillas.
Handel wrote most of the male roles for tenors castrati, who are, for obvious reasons, no longer available. Thus, in seeking substitutes, this production uses countertenors. Some recordings have mezzos playing the male lead role, such as Dame Janet Baker as Caesar. Here, Andreas Scholl handles the florid music quite well but his tone is sometimes thin.
More impressive are the vengeful Sextus of Philippe Jaroussky and the sleazy Ptolemy of Christophe Dumaux. Bass-baritone Ruben Drole is manly as Achillas, while countertenor Jochen Kowalski is convincing in the female part of Cleopatra’s servant Nirenus.
The provocative production by stage directors Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier moves the action to the modern Middle East. The invading Romans look more like Americans, with Caesar wearing a bright blue three-piece suit, and the oil rigs in the background suggest that oil is the reason for the war.
While there is certainly humor in the libretto, the question here is whether it is applied in the right places. Why, for example, does Cornelia stick her head in the mouth of a plastic crocodile when singing Handel’s tragic music about the murder of her husband? And why is the severed head of Pompey wearing aviator glasses?
Other odd touches are Cleopatra riding a rocket like the one at the end of “Dr. Strangelove,” and the troops in fatigues looking silly when they execute dance moves.
Conductor Giovanni Antonini ably leads the Milanese ensemble Il Giardino Armonico.
Barry Bassis has been a music, theater, and travel writer for over a decade for various publications.
