Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto (Salzburg, 2025)

George Frideric Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto

Salzburger Festspiele, 2025

Emmanuelle Haïm, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Christophe Dumaux, Olga Kulchynska, Lucile Richardot, Federico Fiorio, Yuriy Mynenko, Andrei Zhilikhovsky, Jake Ingbar, Robert Raso

3Sat Livestream - August 2025

Dmitri Tcherniakov's direction of the new 2025 Salzburg production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto appears to be drenched in irony. Perhaps not surprisingly, as the director rarely takes opera libretti at face value, particularly when the truth of human nature that they seek to present can often be obscured by poetic declamation and sweet music. That is no impediment to Handel, who composed some of his finest music and managed to get to the heart of the complex relationships between people in love and in war, but inevitably we have a different attitude towards modern warfare and dictators now and the impact their actions have on ordinary people. It is necessary - particularly in our current times - to acknowledge that and get it across if you want Handel's opera to say something meaningful about today rather than being an operatic museum piece.

Tcherniakov, as a Russian born director, has addressed such issues before and met them head-on in what would have otherwise been a problematic production of Prokofiev's War and Peace being staged in Munich while Russia was attacking Ukraine not too far away. Handel's Giulio Cesare in Egitto of course needs no such translation, the composer in his third opera making the complicated situation of Caesar and Pompey's war in Egypt involving Ptolemy and his sister Cleopatra perfectly clear. All the hidden sentiments, rivalry, lusts and cruelties are exposed or at least hinted at, but there is a danger that dated but nonetheless heartfelt expressions such as Ptolemy describing Caesar in terms like "This perfidious, unworthy miscreant" might lack the necessary weight behind them that the situation demands. 

The war between Caesar and Pompey might be over, but the 'fall-out' from their power struggle remains, and Tcherniakov chooses to present that in terms of the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. If there is an irony in that situation it's a grim one, rendering the participants pathetic figures fighting over a wasteland. Whether you think that's appropriate for what happened in 45 BC or even whether it's relevant to the time of the original composition in 1724, it certainly hammers home the potential endgame of what is being played out on the global scene today. All the main players have been evacuated to a network of underground bunkers (the ordinary citizens presumably left to fend for themselves above ground), their opening praise to Caesar's accomplishments striking that first note of irony. As Cesare, Cleopatra and Tolomeo all strike airs singing airs, the others seem to have little time for their self-delusions; the reality of Pompey's death, Caesar's ambition and Cleopatra's self importance having little truck with the others, not least the grieving Cornelia, the vengeful Sesto and the self-serving Achilla.

The set design and directorial characterisation gets to the heart of the contradiction of Giulio Cesare in Egitto. There is a bloody and violent war going on, there is a struggle for power, a battle of egos, a struggle for dominance, all filled with anger, betrayal and plotting. There is also a measure of some kind of greatness and beauty here with sentiments praising fidelity, beauty, love and genuine human feeling. Handel reconciles those opposing but complementary forces in his music. It's simply a beautifully conceived and composed opera, but of course that is hard to view in the same way several hundred years later, several millennia after the original figures appeared on the world stage, particularly when we are likely to have a different view of how historical events played out in opera compare to real life as we know it. Still, the opera stage is no place for 'real life'; the challenge rather is to make it better and truer to life, if you think such a thing is possible. Handel proves that it is, and the director has to use that key resource to his advantage.

Aside from his great work with Russian opera (outstanding with Rimsky-Korsakov, Shostakovitch, Borodin, Prokofiev), I'm not convinced that Tcherniakov has a similar feeling for western operas, taking more of a combative approach, breaking them down, stripping them of mannerisms and adornments, viewing them in terms of middle-class psychodramas, turning them around and turning them on the bourgeois western audience who frequently reward the production team with boos for their trouble. A simplistic analysis of Tcherniakov's intent maybe, but although it can sometimes detract from the deeper purpose of the works, his approach still produces interesting results. It certainly worked when Tcherniakov last worked side-by-side with musical director Emmanuelle Haïm on the Gluck Iphigénie en Aulide/Iphigénie en Tauride diptych for Aix-en-Provence last year. Like that production, I don't think Tcherniakov's approach subverts Handel's vision or detracts from the beauty of the work, but I don't think he really adds anything to it either or fully translates it for a modern audience.

Baroque often needs a little more dramatic inventiveness and Tcherniakov's bunker setting really just closes it in. An example of his approach is in Act II, Scene III which the original libretti describes as "Cornelia, con piccola zappa nelle mani, che vien coltivando i fiori" ("Cornelia, in the garden of the seraglio with a small hoe in her hand cultivating flowers"). Here Cornelia sings 'Deh. Piangete, oh mesti lumi, già per voi non v'è più speme' on a mattress where her son Sesto has been trussed up and dumped at her feet as if dead. Unquestionably Tchernaikov's version is a more dramatic alignment with the sentiments expressed by Cornelia, but it's the aria itself and the person singing it that expresses the horror of the situation and that's done here by Lucile Richardot. A baroque specialist, she may not be an ideal Cornelia but she has an interesting expressive dramatic harshness here that suits the character. Tolomeo’s attempted rape in the subsequent aria 'Sì, spietata, il tuo rigore…' does indeed also reflect the intent of the aria and gives the resultant fury of Sesto justification, so Tcherniakov knows exactly how to draw the most out of the scene, perhaps taking it even further than necessary into suggestions of an incestuous nature. That's the general approach taken elsewhere here.

For Scene VII in this Act likewise, Tcherniakov translates Cleopatra’s 'Venere bella' from a "pleasure garden" to Caesar’s bed (or mattress here), which again is realistic and much less "flowery". Each scene is balanced to strike a good balance between realistic behaviour and the operatic flourishes, the singers playing with great intensity. Like his work on War and Peace, Tcherniakov manages to do this by tapping into the fragile state of madness that reflects the current political climate and reflect it on the stage without foolishly trying to represent it with explicit references. Despite a few shock interruptions however and the onstage attempted assassination of Caesar, the grey oppressiveness of the bunker situation is unable to compensate for the otherwise inertness of dramatic action. Since the opera is largely characterised by declamatory arias, ariosos and recitative however perhaps that's too much to expect.

But again, I stress, what can't be denied as hugely effective is the beautiful musical and lyrical content that Handel has arranged. Above everything it's superbly played under the musical direction of Emmanuelle Haïm and in the wonderfully cast and well directed acting of the singers, all of which makes it a gripping and engaging Giulio Cesare. It's impossible to single out any of the cast as more deserving of praise, but evidently the key roles are all impressive. There's the vulnerability and charm of Olga Kulchynska's Cleopatra seeking love and alliance; the lustful imperiousness nobility of Christophe Dumaux's Cesare; the inner strength and dignity with which Lucile Richardot's Cornelia endures her torment and grief; the wonderfully sneery arrogance and casual cruelty of Yuriy Mynenko's floppy haired public schoolboy Tolomeo. Even the secondary roles of Andrei Zhilikhovsky's Achilla and Federico Fiorio's particularly excitable and impetuous Sesto are exceptionally good  with individual interpretations that contrast and complement each other. The roles of Nireno and Curio are necessarily reduced here, but also sung well by Jake Ingbar and Robert Raso. You would of course expect this high standard at Salzburg, and unquestionably this is opera performance and interpretation of the highest order.

External links: Salzburger Festspiele

Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto

George Frideric Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto

Salzburg Festival, Haus für Mozart, 2012

Giovanni Antonini, Moshe Leiser, Patrice Caurier, Andreas Scholl, Cecilia Bartoli, Anne Sofie von Otter, Philippe Jaroussky, Christophe Dumaux, Jochen Kowalski, Ruben Drole, Peter Kálmán

ARTE Live Web Internet Streaming, 27 May 2012

The question of how to stage a Baroque opera, rather different in form from the more familiar narrative drama form established in 19th century opera, has been a tricky issue that has had to be addressed in order to bring these works back into the modern opera repertoire. How do you make a rather long-winded and out-dated style of opera appealing enough to engage an audience through all the ornate embellishments and opera seria conventions? It helps of course if the score is by Handel, and it helps if the opera in question has a subject as juicy as Julius Cesar’s campaign in Egypt and his romantic encounter with Cleopatra, with some beautiful, memorable arias, and a considerable amount of profuse romantic declarations and rejections, and large amounts of political plotting and scheming. Despite being the most popularly staged Handel opera, the work - four hours long and featuring no less than four principal countertenor/castrato roles - does present considerable challenges in the staging of these event, since most of the action is alluded to only in the brief recitative and usually takes place off-stage. An “authentic” period treatment for the four hours of Giulio Cesare in Egitto could be a bit of a slog for an audience without some visual entertainment, and it seems to be with that principle in mind that Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier’s production of Handel’s 1724 opera for the 2012 Salzburg Pentecost Festival (newly under the directorship of Cecilia Bartoli) is certainly nothing like a period treatment.

Let’s just take a couple of early examples to see how they approach the long drawn-out expressions of deep emotions that establishes the characters and their relation to each other in the critical First Act. Cornelia, aghast at the murder of her husband Pompeo, his head cut off and presented to Cesare by Tolomeo in a misguided attempt to gain favour and the rule of Egypt, sings of her loss in an exquisite lament (‘Priva son d’ogni conforto’) that doesn’t actually require her to do anything dramatically, just emote the pain. Sung eloquently and movingly by Anne Sofie von Otter, the sentiments don’t really need any further elaboration, but Leiser and Caurier choose to show the depths of Cornelia’s despair by having her place her head in the jaws of a crudely manufactured giant rubber crocodile. Or - how should one stage the aria ‘L’empio, sleale, indegno’, where Tolomeo vents his anger at Cesare, while standing alone on the stage? Well, Leiser and Caurier have him tear apart a foam dummy of Cesar (one that bizarrely has arrived earlier on the top of the limousine bearing the arrival of the Roman Emperor), pulling bloody innards out of the stomach and biting into them.

Evidently such scenes clearly bear no relation to naturalism, never mind tradition, and as the early booing from the audience at Tolomeo’s tantrum here demonstrates, it’s clearly not for everyone. Whether it’s to your taste or not, in both cases, it can’t be denied that the visual expression of those scenes don’t really do anything more than simply match the extravagance and depth of feelings as they are expressed by both characters through the excessively ornate terms of the da capo aria. The nature of the convention and its lack of adherence to any kind of naturalism in dramatic situations is even played upon in Act II, when Cesare’s General, Curio - dressed in modern army combat gear - looks on in a frustrated manner as he tries to get the Emperor into a bulletproof vest and away from a group of assassins approaching them in Cleopatra’s palace, only for Cesare to insist on returning to the front of the stage to finish the long repetitions of his da capo aria. It’s clever, it’s knowing, it’s aware of the conventions and working within them, but most importantly, Leiser and Caurier’s production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto is never boring.

Updating the involvement of a major Western power in the turmoil of the Middle-East to a modern setting is however clearly always going to generate some amount of controversy and to their credit, Leiser and Caurier don’t shy away from scenes that, in some cases, almost seem designed to shock and provoke a reaction. Little of that however relates to any actual commentary on real-life modern-day situations other than in the broadest of terms, but there are certainly recognisable features of present-day Egypt, the wider Middle-East conflict and recent Arab Spring rebel uprisings, with the stage bearing all the signs of a desert war, littered with burning tanks and, um, giant lizards. As head of the invading foreign power, Cesare here is keen to strike up a deal with the new regime, installing Tolomeo as the new puppet ruler in an arrangement that will be beneficial to Rome for the setting up of oil wells in the region. In this context, having seen his father killed by this cruel regime, Sesto becomes a terrorist and straps a bomb around his waist for a suicide attack, assisted by his grieving mother. Bombs rain down in a shock-and-awe battle towards the end of the conflict, as the rebels take on the government forces. Without having to make any overt commentary on the Middle East, it’s a scenario that a modern audience would be able to relate to - certainly more than Cesar’s campaign in Egypt in 48 BC - but what is even more surprising is how well it actually works hand-in-hand with the themes, if not the actual historical events, recounted in Handel’s work.

The directors however - depending on your view - could be seen as pushing things a little too far into parody. Certainly the abuse of power, the sexual improprieties and the mistreatment of women that go along with it are all part and parcel of the exercise of political authority and ambition - as is Cleopatra’s use of seduction to try to gain power herself - but the manner in which these scenes are depicted seems to be fully considered according to the nature of the characters and not merely put in to shock the audience. For Cleopatra’s part, it all seems to be done with a sense of fun, and Cecilia Bartoli (well used to working with this directing team) throws herself bravely into the role, and not just in singing terms - which you would expect anyway. She seems to enjoy playing the part of this sexy temptress, vamping it up in a leather outfit that emphasises her ample bosom, or as a dancing girl with feather fans, even dancing like an Egyptian while wearing a wig of the Queen’s famous bob hairstyle. At one point in Act II she even rides a rocket bomb (as Cupid’s dart) into the sky, which earns huge applause, although her stunning delivery of the aria might have had something to do with that. Her character’s slip into lamentations in the second half of the work however is handled without any such fuss or spectacle (although she also feels like sacrificing herself to the rubber crocodile at one point). So too, the enslavement of Cornelia and the attempts to use her as a bargaining tool for sale on is treated with great delicacy, but the “villains” less so, Tolomeo shown jerking off to a porn mag while singing “Belle dee di questo core”.

More than simply setting out to shock or upset, the impression given is that, in their attempt to prove that opera seria doesn’t have to be just a long series of tedious arias with short sections of recitative to set them up, the directors have perhaps just gone too far in the other direction and thrown in far too many ideas that don’t always work. This Giulio Cesare in Egitto is just overflowing with ideas and there’s almost too much to take in. But one thing for sure is that it’s never, ever boring, and in a four-hour Handel opera, that’s quite an achievement. Just as importantly, it doesn’t detract from what it the most important element of the work, and that is its expression through the singing. Bartoli, as noted above, is just outstanding, fully entering into the role and singing it beautifully, powerfully and with genuine feeling and understanding for the character of Cleopatra. Andreas Scholl’s delicate countertenor also fully embodies the character of Cesare, the singing impassioned, the da capo coloratura both expressive and impressive. The real key to the success of this production however lies in the equal attention given to the superb casting and performances of the other roles, particularly Anne Sofie von Otter’s Cornelia and Philippe Jaroussky’s Sesto. Their expressions of deep anguish underpin the seriousness of drama and its conviction, and they are both outstanding in individual arias, but particularly impressive in their ‘Son nata a lagrimar’ duet. Christophe Dumaux as Tolomeo, Jochen Kowalski as Nireno, Peter Kálmán as Curio and Ruben Drole as Achilla also give fine performances that ensure that there are no weak elements here as far as the singing is concerned.

Giulio Cesare in Egitto was recorded on 27th May 2012 and broadcast live by the French/German television channel ARTE. It is currently available to view in its entirety for free on their ARTE Live Web site.