Vivaldi’s L’Olimpiade concerns a pair of royal misallied young couples, encountering various vicissitudes, until newly revealed parentage leads to the “correct” pairs being united in the end. A sort of Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Olympic Games. Vivaldi wrote nearly 50 operas, and we are gradually getting to hear some of them. His was the second of 50 settings of the libretto by Metastasio. First heard in Venice in 1734, it remains worth reviving, as shown by this Irish National Opera staging, a co-production with the Royal Opera House and Switzerland’s Nouvel Opéra Fribourg, in partnership with the Irish Baroque Orchestra. And 2024 is surely a good year to mount an opera called “The Olympiad”.
The costume and set designs by Molly O'Cathain reference Ancient Greece with a low-rise amphitheatre and athletic competition with sports kit (plus Baroque-style clothing). The action involves some emotional switches as misunderstandings grow and allegiances become muddled, hence ostentatious donning and doffing of garments, taken from cloakroom racks and benches either side of the stage. Sports are mimed and rosettes awarded, and implausible impersonations are unmasked, in a production where Matthew Forbes’ movement direction keeps things moving (or as far as possible with Baroque opera’s musical forms to accommodate). That amphitheatre, with added sunflowers and flags at times, has illuminated steps and a large ring of light above it, which Jake Wiltshire’s effective lighting design changes to match moods. A few simple resources combine here to create a convincing stage presentation that serves the libretto. Daisy Evans’ debut as a stage director at Covent Garden is a notable success.
Serving the libretto is, of course, all that a stage composer was asked to do in the early 18th century, the job of music being to illustrate and never obscure the text (hence the da capo form permitting some vocal display in the repeat). The singers made an impressive and consistent team, doubtless helped by this first night in London feeling well “run in” following several performances in Ireland. Countertenor Meili Li was an excellent Licida, his fine tone and line bringing much pathos to the confusions of his amorous ambitions. The other two male singers were baritones – this is not one of those operas of the era overwhelmed with high voices, with three mezzos among the four females. King Clistene was baritone Chuma Sijeqa, acting and singing in a regal manner, with a touch of arrogance suited to one unaware his decisions were part of the problem. The Alcandro of Seán Boylan was superbly sung, deploying his ringing baritone in a tour de force as Part Two progressed.
Alexandra Urquiola’s Aristea, equally beloved by two close friends (one of whom is later revealed as her brother), found a vocal manner suited to the histrionic range required in a large role – anger, bewilderment, rapture – but always with care for good style. As Argene, Sarah Richmond was not required to do all of that, but sang and acted well enough in the rather pallid role Metastasio and Vivaldi gave her. Rachel Redmond, the sole soprano in the cast, sang Aminta, who faces few of the trials of the other women, and stole the vocal honours with some delightful singing to provide a lively curtain to Part One.
At least Aminta stole the honours from those actually onstage. But Gemma Ní Bhriain was unwell and unable to sing the leading role of Megacle. She walked the role, and Maria Schellenberg sang it, placed in one end of the shallow pit (so quite visible), singing from her score (with no light on her music stand). The Russian mezzo is a Baroque specialist who, as Maria Ostroukhova, won the Michael Oliver Prize in the 2015 London Handel Festival Singing Competition. She sang outstandingly well in these circumstances, with an engagement that suggested she had been a part of this tour – which she had not, though she has sung Aristea before. Her Italian diction was the most impressive of anyone’s, relishing the tang of poetry once so admired across Europe. She really ought to have been summoned out of the gloom and onto the stage at the curtain.
This being Vivaldi, the instrumental parts of L’Olimpiade are often lively and inventive, the small group of string players and their colleagues in the Irish Baroque Orchestra recreating the sounds of a Venetian theatre with every introduction and ritornello. Peter Whelan directed with a good sense of balance between voice and orchestra needed in this small space, and audible attention to the ‘lift’ needed for Vivaldi’s endless variety of rhythmic figures.
