Annually since 2015, Ars Minerva, founded & led by Céline Ricci, has given us a revival of an opera not seen for centuries. This is obviously the Lord's work, & Ars Minerva is a jewel of the Bay Area. With the exception of 2023's Olimpia Vendicata, which I missed because COVID finally got me that weekend, I have seen & loved all of their shows. By now they have a distinct production aesthetic: stylish projections & minimal props; elaborate, often very witty, costumes; an inventive, often humorous, approach to staging these unknown works which, typically for baroque operas, usually center on mythological heroes, historical figures who might as well be mythological, & a grab-bag of Greek gods. I occasionally hear someone complain that these revived operas aren't "masterpieces". But they are, to my mind, consistently interesting & entertaining & even refreshing, & isn't being overly devoted to the narrowly defined "masterpiece" one of the problems with the current operatic scene?
This year we were given their tenth opera, & the first composed by a woman: 1707's Ercole Amante by Antonia Bembo, an Italian woman eventually resident in France, whose approach combined the two national schools of music. There was a concert performance in Europe a few years ago, but this production was the first modern, & possibly the first ever, fully staged production (another is scheduled for next year at the Paris Opera). The staging by Ricci was clever & often humorous, & kept the complicated story clear & moving (in every sense). The plot, as the title indicates, revolves around Hercules falling in love – with Iole, a woman whose father he killed, & who is also beloved by his son Hyllo. In addition, Hercules is already married to Deianira. And various gods get involved: jealous Giunone (Juno), who has always hated Hercules, & Venere (Venus), who wants to thwart Juno. There is also a Page, who delivers messages & comic asides. With those characters the plot starts spinning like a top, & as usual with baroque opera, there is no point in typing out a summary, as it would sound like confusing convoluted nonsense, but in performance it all makes complete logical & emotional sense (I've experienced this over & over & always advise people that the first rule of attending baroque opera is not to read the plot summary.)
The gods & heroes are pretty much on a level, though the gods have more power, at least of a supernatural sort. The projections, designed as usual by Entropy, seemed particularly rich this time, combining the fine-lined precision of 18th century engravings with the modernist style of collage & contrast, aptly substituting for the visual richness & swift scene changes of baroque opera. And the costumes, designed by Marina Polakoff, seemed even more lavish & even wittier than usual, with extravagant headpieces, swirling draperies (or, in the case of the muscular bare-chested Hercules, only a partly gilded pteruges), little flashing lights embedded in tulle, deep & glowing colors. It all contributed to the sense of a rich, frivolous, & decadent upper class, swirling around their love-concerns above the rest of the indifferent world. The performance opens with a woman representing Bembo lying on a couch, starting to put her opera together. It's a clever way of emphasizing the individual creation of the work, which is a particular vision of these characters rather than some sort of standard history. They are puppets in her show.
I was reminded of one of my favorite movies, Renoir's The Rules of the Game, also about an insular, insulated privileged caste entertaining themselves with the frisson of love affairs while their world slides away; but perhaps the main theme that reminded me of the film is the interrogation of the role of the hero: like Renoir's aviator, Hercules is officially a hero, but he fits awkwardly into normal life. Heroes are perhaps easier to live with once they're safely dead.
Bembo's score, prepared for performance by Adam Cockerham & conducted from the harpsichord by Matthew Dirst, is consistently appealing & entertaining. I did feel that in a couple of scenes that required something a little more, she had not supplied it: the underworld scene involving Iole's father didn't seem differentiatingly eerie to me, & the death of Hercules was lacking in the tragic grandeur we find in Handel's version of the same scene: but perhaps the failure there is mine, conditioned to expect tragic grandeur by repeated exposure to Handel's work, when Bembo, consistent with her quizzical view of the Hero, is trying for a different effect: yes, he was larger than life, but didn't that make him a bit demanding, a bit difficult to have around? And doesn't life go on, perhaps even a bit more smoothly, after his death?
Zachary Gordin was a suitably beefy Ercole, Kindra Scharich the long-suffering & touching Deianira, Lila Khazoum & Maxwell Ary as Iole & Hyllo an appealing pair of young lovers, Aura Veruni a blazing Giunone, Melissa Sondhi a sly Venere; Nick Volkert portrayed an imposing series of gods with minor roles, as well as the ghost of Iole's father, & Sara Couden was funny & sly as the Page. Bembo's initial appearance was portrayed by Cynthia Keiko Black. I did feel that the score & story are rich enough to support a sometimes less humorous approach, particularly with Hyllo; if the Paris Opera production is made available, it would be interesting to see how they handle this opera. In the meantime, I am very happy with what we were given by Ars Minerva, & I am already eagerly awaiting their next rediscovery.
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