Agrippina was first performed at Venice’s Teatro San Giovanni Crisostomo on December 26, 1709, towards the end of Handel’s extended visit to Italy. Although it contains music recently composed for Florence, Naples and Rome, it is without doubt his first great opera. Cardinal Grimani’s libretto, one of the best Handel set, examines the ruthless dynastic politics of ancient Rome, in which Agrippina believes her husband the Emperor Claudius is dead, and sets about securing the throne for her spoilt son Nero. It transpires that Claudius has been saved from drowning by Ottone, the only honourable character in the opera, and who is declared as Claudio’s heir.

Agrippina swiftly sets about attempting to destroy everybody in Nero’s path, while trying to avoid the consequences of her machinations. The opera contains seductive charm, ironic wit, outrageous satire, sexual tension and intense emotional suffering, and Handel’s music is consistently brilliant. Nero’s feigned charity towards the poor (‘Qual piacere’) is reminiscent of a hypocritical politician campaigning to solicit votes. The unjust rejection of Ottone by all others and his subsequent grief-stricken soliloquy (‘Voi che udite’), and Agrippina’s desperate plea for the gods to reward her ruthless schemes with a favourable outcome (‘Pensieri’) are as powerful as anything Handel produced for London.

Jean-Claude Malgoire’s grasp on Handelian drama has improved since his CBS recordings made in the 1970s, and La Grande Ecurie et le Chambre du Roy have a stronger presence and dramatic intent these days. But this live performance is scrappy, and there are problems: the recording quality is adequate enough, but occasionally features footsteps that are clearer and louder than important dramatic events such as letters being read aloud. Worst of all, none of the three discs contains a single complete act, but each spills over onto the next disc without justification. Although the third disc commences dramatically with Agrippina’s striking ‘Pensieri’, Handel designed it as the dramatic core of Act 2. He knew what he was doing in matters of pacing, contrasts and characterisation, and that ought to be respected by performers and record companies. Juno’s descent to pour her blessings on everybody at the end of the opera is omitted entirely, although it is not a serious loss.

The singing is better here than on some Dynamic recordings, but there uncomfortable moments: Nigel Smith’s powerful Claudio loses his way during the cadenza in ‘Cade il mondo’, and Thierry Grégoire is unsteady and under-powered as Ottone. Véronique Gens is notably more assured, but her Agrippina is cool, detached and unmemorable. The impressive singing of high countertenor Philippe Jaroussky outclasses any previous Nero on disc, but lacks the selfish and juvenile personality that made Derek Lee Ragin’s performance compelling and amusing on the excellent Philips recording by John Eliot Gardiner, which also features the exemplary Handelians Della Jones and Michael Chance at the pinnacle of their powers. Nevertheless, Malgoire’s recording exhibits a stronger atmosphere of the theatre, and has renewed my admiration for this magnificent opera.