Gender Bending Opera

John took me to the opening of Handel's "Julius Ceasar in Egypt" at San Diego Opera over the weekend. Baroque opera is so lovely, though can sometimes get static. This staging had its problems, but did a relatively decent job of relieving the sometimes endless da capos.

The production was from the Met and John Copley directed. I found that the copius amount of bald-pated supers seemed a bit underdirected and unsure of themselves, which sometimes distracted from the action, but mostly the stage picture was quite beautiful in golds and solitary obalisques, projected light in the shape of pyramids, glittering swords and breastplates, and a distinct 18th century feel. I found it interesting that the opera was put together both in costume and set (and orchestra) the way that we would have seen it when Handel first conceived of it. Singers then would have worn their own clothes with added acoutrements to bring out their character. By putting Cleopatra and the muses in 18th century gowns, we got to see, approximately, what it would have looked like during Handel's time.

What's most interesting to me about these older operas is the use of trouser roles and countertenors. Both the roles of Julius Ceasar and Sextus were played by women. Ceasar was sung by Ewa Podles, the Polish contralto with an incredible, honey-like masculine tone and low notes to die for. Vivica Genaux sang Sextus, the young man trying to avenge his father's death at the hands of Ptolemy. She's an incredible presence on stage and plays trouser roles very well, strutting around the stage like a young boy, running with a prominent heel, shoulders slung back. It was wonderful to see her march about with her hand at her sword, and the duet at the end of act I with her and Cornelia, her mother, was the most exquisite thing in the opera.

Countertenors are male singers with soprano voices. They have an otherworldly quality to their tone, which can make them boyish, feminine, or god-like. This show had two of them. The most prominent was Brian Asawa, who played Ptolemy, the petulent 12-year-old boy-king of Egypt with the bad temper. His voice rung out like the prepubescent he was and made his feminine qualities stand out even more as Cleopatra chided him. He was followed around my two fawning eunuchs, which made him even more ridiculous and wonderful.

I had a great time. It was a little long for me that night (over three hours), having just crossed the country, still catching up on sleep, but overall, the singers were terrific and I was entranced by the gorgeous scenic design. It's always nice to be back at SDO. I am sad to miss "Zauberflote" this year.