Handel’s Serse has proved to be one of the most popular of his operas over recent years – certainly in England, where the witty production by Nicholas Hytner for the ENO, put on in the tercentenary year of 1985, still continues to draw full houses. Wit may not be a part of most people’s image of Handel’s operas, and rightly: but from time to time, and especially when he was using a libretto of Venetian origins, Handel and his London librettists permitted themselves touches of ironic humour and sometimes rather more than that – Serse has one truly comic character, a servant, and King Xerxes himself is in some degree made a figure of fun by his unruly amorous whims (including the famous opening one, for a plane tree). But as in all the best comedy, the situations give rise to serious emotion too, and in Act 2 of Serse, when events provoke first Xerxes, then Romilda (whom he thinks he loves) and then Amastre (who loves him) into forceful expressions of passion, touchingly followed by a gentle aria from Xerxes’s brother Arsamene (Romilda’s true lover), the music springs into real life and enters more than a purely entertaining plane. Otherwise, however, it is inclined to be elegant, thin-textured, short-breathed: quite unlike the great heroic operas of the Royal Academy period or even the finest of the works of the early or middle 1730s. Serse dates from 1738, just after the time of the Nobility Opera rivalries; Handel’s flirtations with the newer styles of Italian opera were unsuccessful and he composed only two more operas before turning his back finally on the form.
A new recording is welcome, and although the cast here isn’t obviously starry it is evenly accomplished and the performance holds together very well under Nicholas McGegan’s assured direction. His own personal touch is unmistakable – the light textures, the quickish tempos, the spruce rhythms, the dapper cadences, the generally faintly ironic tone – and it works well for this opera, perhaps better than it would for a big heroic piece. Sometimes I wish for a little more weight, and I feel that the slurring patterns McGegan often imposes in the violin ritornellos do not always seem justified; but in general the accompaniment textures are sympathetically handled.
Judith Malafronte is a name new to me, and she starts off with a very beautiful account of “Ombra mai fu”, smooth, focused in tone, delicately phrased and shaped, and not without hints of vibrato, and she finds a good swagger for Xerxes’s second aria. Best of all is the serious C minor aria in Act 2, “Il core spera e teme”, done with some depth of expression. This, of course, was originally a castrato part; while the role of Xerxes’s brother Arsamene was originally composed for a woman but is sung here by a countertenor – which I would regret if it weren’t so well done, by Brian Asawa, who has a steady, warm, slightly throaty tone and a capacity for refined shading. His pathetic F minor aria in Act 2 is done with much intensity, and his ensuing fast one too is very exact and indeed elegant. Romilda is sung in assured style by Jennifer Smith, with a good ring to her voice; she too is at her best in the dramatic music in Act 2. Lisa Milne’s Atalanta catches neatly the rather frivolous character of the seconda donna, heard at her best in the brilliant “Un cenno leggiadretto” which ends Act 1 – it is thrown off very spiritedly, with wit and abandon (and rather abrupt phrase-endings). The Amastre is Susan Bickley – clean, careful and direct singing, but with ample power in her F sharp minor outburst in Act 2. Dean Ely brings due weight and athleticism to the bass part of Ariodate; Elviro is spiritedly done by David Thomas.
Of other current versions, I have not heard the ENO one (which is in English and only available on video); but this new set comfortably outclasses the Malgoire recording of 1979 in both its direction and its singing and must surely be the choice for anyone wanting a stylish, period-instrument version of this lively and appealing work.'