As captured live by NDR at the Göttingen Handel Festival last May, stage noises and imperfections inevitably arise from this staged production of Arminio (1737). Nevertheless, all participants create characterisations that live and breathe with theatrical verve, unlike accounts by Alan Curtis’s Il Complesso Barocco (Virgin/Erato, 9/01) and George Petrou’s Armonia Atenea (Decca, 5/16) that were developed solely in the recording studio – although since then the Greeks participated in a fully fledged production at Karlsuhe (C Major, 7/18).

The plot concerns the Germanic tribes led by Hermann defeating the Romans led by Quinctilius Varus at the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9AD, although the drama springs from complicated relationships between the title-hero, his wife Tusnelda, her brother Sigismondo (in love with Arminio’s sister Ramise) and their treacherous father Segeste – who has formed an obsequious alliance with the Roman general Varo (who desires Tusnelda but aspires to virtuous conduct regarding his enemies).

The enchained Arminio’s confrontation with Segeste spirals into the defiant tour de force ‘Sì, cadrò, ma sorgerà’, performed by Christopher Lowrey with sneering disdain; when condemned to death, he entrusts his beloved Tusnelda to the care of his Roman enemy in ‘Vado morir’, accompanied sensitively by cellist Phoebe Carrai and theorbist David Tayler before the music flowers into full strings and oboes. Tusnelda’s soliloquy response ‘Rendimi il dolce sposo’ is sung and acted to perfection by Anna Devin, whose mingling of marital fidelity and resigned hopelessness is supported by Handel’s four-part string-writing at its most exquisite – more than any other moment in this recording, it proves the advantage of performing absolutely in character and in context.

The opera’s most spectacular heroic outbursts belong to Sigismondo: ‘Posso morir, ma vivere’ has thrilling synergy between the orchestra’s bustling bass lines and zesty violins doubled by oboes, and ‘Quella fiamma’ is a splendid concertante dialogue with oboist Susanne Regel – whose subtly shaded playing goes less over the top than Sophie Junker’s extrovert embellishments and cadenza, though, to be fair, Handel himself provides the top C. Sigismondo’s beloved Ramise is sung with dramatic punchiness by Helena Rasker. Paul Hopwood’s Varo is an engaging antagonist; his final aria as he departs to battle (‘Mira il ciel, vedrai d’Alcide’) is the only appearance of horns in the opera. Cody Quattlebaum’s resonant Segeste is thoroughly villainous, and Owen Willetts contributes precise coloratura and intelligent singing as the henchman Tullio.

Laurence Cummings’s well-chosen tempos and the all-star baroque orchestra’s expert playing yields a masterful performance. The only cut is the B section and repeat of Arminio’s ‘Ritorno alle ritorte’ – although Handel seems not to have performed it either.