Regal 'Caesar' offers beauty in music and design

By: PAM KRAGEN - Staff Writer | Wednesday, April 19, 2006 12:30 PM PDT ∞

The only thing more beautiful than the physical production of San Diego Opera's epically staged "Julius Caesar in Egypt" is Handel's music itself. And thanks to a world-class cast and conductor, the exquisitely sung baroque opera will be remembered as the highlight of San Diego Opera's 2006 season.

Polish contralto Ewa Podles commandingly leads the production as Julius Caesar, but what impresses most is the depth of the casting by company general director Ian Campbell. Supporting Podles with equally outstanding performances are mezzo Vivica Genaux as Sextus; soprano Lisa Saffer as Cleopatra; countertenor Brian Asawa as Cleopatra's brother Ptolemy; baritone Alfred Walker as Achillas; and soprano Suzanna Guzman as Cornelia.

"Julius Caesar in Egypt" is the second Handel opera presented in San Diego Opera company history. The first, "Ariodante" in 2002, was sublimely sung but less interesting theatrically. By contrast, the characters in "Julius Caesar" are famous and colorful personalities, the story moves rapidly, the sets and costumes (rented from New York's Metropolitan Opera) are opulent, ornate and gorgeous, and there's even a surprising sprinkle of humor in John Copley's stage direction. And the 44-piece orchestra (complete with harpsichord and baroque cello), conducted masterfully by Kenneth Montgomery, present a fresh and vivacious reading of Handel's score.

The opera's story takes place in 48 B.C. with Caesar's defeat of Pompey's Egyptian army. In the aftermath of the battle, royal siblings Cleopatra and Ptolemy vie for the Roman ruler's affection. Cleopatra uses her feminine wiles, while Ptolemy tries to curry Caesar's favor by beheading Pompey. Jealous of his sister's success, Ptolemy imprisons Cleopatra, along with Pompey's revenge-minded son, Sextus, and Pompey's widow, Cornelia. A battle at sea between Caesar's and Ptolemy's forces ends with a Roman victory (thanks to the defection of Ptolemy's closest aide, Achillas), Sextus slays Ptolemy and Cleopatra is freed to become Egypt's queen.

The opera has been trimmed here for a three-hour, 23-minute running time (including two intermissions), which keeps the action moving fairly constantly but creates some confusion near the end. The reasons for Achillas' change of heart and Sextus' slaying of Ptolemy have been removed from the third act, giving it a truncated, rushed feel.

Written in 1724, "Julius Caesar in Egypt" had several roles written for castrated male singers. Today, these roles are played by a mix of countertenor male singers and women mezzos. Opera audiences are familiar with this casting conceit, but "Julius Caesar" adds in another unusual layer. The two major male roles ---- Caesar and Sextus ---- are played by women, and several of the male characters (played by countertenors Asawa and Mark Crayton) are either androgynous eunuchs or highly effeminate men (Ptolemy). It's all a bit strange, but the aural quality of this mix of voices is beautiful. Copley's stage direction puts an emphasis on personality, so that Ptolemy is flamboyant and impetuous; Cleopatra is fiery and determined; and Caesar is noble but romantically impulsive.

Standout musical scenes include the lovely first-act duet "Son nata a lagrimar" sung in beautiful harmony by Genaux and Guzman; Caesar's third-act aria "Quel torrente," muscularly sung by Podles, who has enormous range and stamina; and Cleopatra's second-act love aria to Caesar, "Se pieta di me non senti," sung by Saffer with crystal-clear precision.

The Met production, created for Copley's original staging in New York, is rich and elegant in the baroque style, with 18th-century style gowns (European in design with Egyptian and Roman accents), ornate, gilded set pieces and painterly backdrops that evoke Tiepolo and other artists of the baroque period.

The cumulative effect of the immense sets (colorfully lit by Thomas J. Munn), elaborate costumes and beautiful singing almost overwhelms the senses. As the curtain closes in the final scene, a rain of golden sparkles float down from the rafters, but the effect is superfluous, since everything about this production is already gold-plated.