The “inexpressible delight” experienced by the Earl of Shaftesbury when he attended a rehearsal of Berenice was not shared by Handel’s (mainly aristocratic) London public, already tiring of Italian opera by 1737. Like its immediate predecessors Arminio and Giustino, Berenice was a resounding failure, netting just four performances and exacerbating the already disastrous financial plight of the Covent Garden Company. Even in this Handelian golden age the opera remains a rarity, remembered mainly for the beguiling minuet from the Overture, and the jaunty aria “Sì, tra i ceppi”, written to replace a more sober, and more dramatically appropriate, setting of the same text (this recording reinstates Handel’s original version).

Only the most partisan Handel aficionado would claim that Berenice is an out-and-out masterpiece. The action, set in Alexandria in 80BC, is bewilderingly convoluted even by the standards of Baroque opera seria. Amid ruthless dynastic politicking, the main characters exist in a kind of revolving amorous pentagon, ever-ready to jump to the wrong conclusion about who is in love with whom. Unsurprisingly, Handel’s score only rarely suggests the musical-dramatic intensity consistently achieved in his finest operas. Yet the invention is never less than charming (not least in a clutch of pastoral-style arias in minuet rhythm, and the galant duet that ends Act 1), and often more than that. Berenice’s sister Selene has a splendidly agitated, jagged aria in the first act, while her lover Demetrio gives vent to her imagined faithlessness in a harmonically adventurous accompanied recitative followed by a wild invocation to the Furies. Much of the most memorable music goes to Berenice herself, whose dangerous, wilful sexuality makes her something of a counterpart to Partenope. Her two arias in the final act are both highlights, the first, “Chi t’intende”, a plangent dialogue for voice and solo oboe, the second, “Avvertite, mie pupille”, a faltering prayer for courage as she prepares to witness the execution (at her own behest) of her former lover Demetrio.

The one previous recording of Berenice, conducted by Rudoph Palmer (Newport Classic), did the opera fair justice. But this latest addition to Alan Curtis’s Handel series is even better: more consistently cast, and directed with Curtis’s characteristic style and flair. Nothing is merely pretty or polite. Klara Ek makes a vivid Berenice, phrasing her lighter arias with coquettish grace, tearing ferociously into her denunciation of Demetrio, and finding a new intensity of tone for her poignant final aria. The recitatives are naturally timed and inflected, benefiting, as in other Curtis Handel recordings, from several Italians in the cast, including the fiery Romina Basso, definitely a Selene not to be messed with, and, as Demetrio, the bold, vibrant – and very un-English – countertenor of Franco Fagioli. Impressive, too, are Ingela Bohlin’s eager Alessandro and the incisive, androgynous-toned Mary-Ellen Nesi as the Egyptian prince Arsace hopelessly in love with Selene. As ever, Curtis encourages his orchestra to cajole, plead, grieve and rage as eloquently as his singers. The recorded sound has an attractive bloom, with a well-judged balance between voices and orchestra. In sum, a compelling account of an opera that, as David Vickers argues in his informative note, contains far too much fine music to merit its generally poor reputation among Handel scholars.