Partenope is crammed with outstanding arias varying in musical styles and techniques but it is also a beautifully crafted drama in which the different consequences of love upon radically different lovers are examined with warmth, insight and, ultimately, hope. In a sense it is like Handel’s counterpart of Così fan tutte: a school for conflicting lovers. A few brief moments of outright humour in the libretto have led to Partenope being oversimplified as a comedy. Attempts to force the opera into a farce have been catastrophic in the theatre, with profound loss of truthfulness and beauty from the play. Thankfully, Mexican director Francisco Negrin has no trouble in balancing the seriousness of lovers’ quarrels with a few moments of hilariously funny staging (his brilliantly clever handling of the battle scene treats it as a series of childish party games, such as musical chairs and “rock, paper, scissors”). The troubled and passionate relationships between all of the main protagonists are understood and conveyed with rare insight and the portrait of each character that emerges from Handel’s marvellously crafted music is generally spot on: the adulterous Arsace is initially smug, and his fall from Partenope’s favour is followed by some moving soul-searching and a touching reconciliation with his vengeful and tortured ex-fiancée Rosmira; Andreas Scholl copes admirably with the difficult fast coloratura but his finest moment is the heartbroken “Ch’io parta”, in which he begs Rosmira to take him back. Tuva Semmingsen sings and ideally captures Rosmira’s conflicting desires for vengeance and to win her man back. Partenope is beautiful yet mischievous and her eventual realisation that requites the kindly Armindo’s love is beautifully portrayed in Negrin’s staging (even if he unnecessarily resorts to inserting a gorgeous but very long duet from Sosarme in order to make the point more fully). As in his various productions of Giulio Cesare, Negrin uses the servant character (Ormonte) to serve as a silent and wise witness to events, leading the protagonists towards their rightful resolutions. It is an effective idea, even though granting Ormonte “La gloria in nobil alma” at the beginning of Act 3 (it should be sung by Emilio towards the end) grinds against Handel’s musico-dramatic gears. More dubious interventions are placing Partenope’s “Care mura” too early, and Rosmira’s gorgeous “Se non ti sai spiegar” is entirely omitted, which is a crying shame as it portrays her (disguised as a man) giving Armindo advice about how to win Partenope’s heart away from Arsace in music of exquisite tenderness and subtlety. However, Lars Ulrik Mortensen’s magnificent direction brings out the full measure of excitement, pathos and emotion in Handel’s score in a way that few interpreters have quite managed, and Concerto Copenhagen’s playing is routinely fantastic. An inordinate amount of hand-held cameras illustrating close-up details of faces and off-centre shenanigans probably reduces the impact of what must have been a tremendous evening in the theatre. Overall, the production is flawed in theory, but in practice it conveys an enormous amount of what makes Partenope very special.