Handel’s oratorio Theodora is unusual among his compositions in that it has created more of a splash in the modern day than it ever did during his lifetime. It premiered at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden on 16 March 1750 but ran for just three performances and was only revived once in 1755. Although the fact there had been an earthquake a week before the premiere meant that some of the composer’s usual patrons had fled the city, the real reason for the work’s unpopularity was undoubtedly its plot.
Set in the fourth century, Theodora, which has a libretto by Thomas Morell, tells the story of a nobly-born Christian woman who falls foul of Valens, the Roman governor of Antioch, when he issues a decree that all citizens should sacrifice to the goddesses Venus and Flora. Theodora is arrested for refusing to do so but, instead of being put to death as had been declared, is sentenced to serve as a prostitute in the Temple of Venus. Didymus, who has converted to Christianity, persuades his superior officer Septimius to let him visit Theodora, where he swaps clothes with her so that she can escape. When Didymus is discovered in Theodora’s place, they change her punishment to death, which Theodora does not fear and so volunteers to take Didymus’s place. Each proves willing to die for the other, but the piece actually ends with Valens condemning both of them to death.
The fact that the oratorio had no happy ending, and actually saw the Christian characters suffer and die, probably explains why it was so coldly received. This would have been unappealing, if not outright distasteful, to eighteenth century British audiences, especially since Handel’s oratorios did tend to follow the conventions of the day. For example, Jephtha, written two years later, actually altered the Old Testament story to see an angel grant a reprieve at the eleventh hour so that the Israelite leader did not have to kill his own daughter.
Ironically, in an age when the level of religious observance across society as a whole has declined, the story feels more inviting because the values associated with remaining true to oneself hold much appeal. Nevertheless, the reasons for its popularity today may be far simpler. As soon as any outright objections to the subject matter have disappeared, it is easy for the brilliance of the music to shine through because it is so exceptionally fine.
(Septimius) Ed Lyon, (Valens) Gyula Orendt, (Didymus) Jakub Józef Orlinski, (Theodora) Julia Bullock ROH Theodora 2022, © Camilla Greenwell
Although Theodora is an oratorio rather than an opera it is one that lends itself quite readily to being staged. In spite of this, Katie Mitchell’s new production for the Royal Opera represents the first time that the work has appeared at Covent Garden since its very first performances in 1750. Mitchell updates the action to the modern day, and in the process makes Theodora a revolutionary activist rather than a stoic martyr. The setting is an embassy in which members of a Christian resistance movement are working. The centre for their operations is its kitchen, where they meet to plan activities or participate in rituals, all under the cloak of it being a busy place where people ordinarily come and go all the time. This provides a suitable parallel to the original setting as Christians in the Roman Empire, before it became the state religion, would have had no churches and simply gathered where they could. If they possessed a relic or similar object, that would have become the focal point for their worship, and so it feels appropriate to see a Christmas tree, which they decorate, serving that same purpose here.
One problem that oratorios pose when they are staged is that they require entire choruses of people, who would have originally stood in rows, to be given things to do for potentially long periods of time. This production copes well with the challenge by making them part of the overall visual approach so that they actively participate in, rather than passively observe, scenes. It is also not made too obvious that every now and then a vast group of people are being ushered onto and off the stage because the kitchen is a place where people would constantly be going in and out anyway. In total there are five sets, courtesy of Chloe Lamford, and, since all of these can be moved to the left or right, it means at certain points two or three of them stand next to each other. This enables us to see what is happening in more than one place simultaneously so that while the main action is occurring in one space, activities in another can highlight what is going on elsewhere, the context in which the protagonists operate or various subtexts. This is an approach that Mitchell also employed in her 2016 production of Lucia di Lammermoor for the Royal Opera, but the wealth of activity that is frequently on display here is never excessively distracting because its pace works with that of the music.
With Sarita Piotrowski as the movement director, slow motion actions, which can involve the hiding, passing and pointing of guns, are used to good effect as they heighten the sense of danger, and hence the poignancy of the relevant aria. For example, with Theodora’s friend Irene singing ‘As with rosy steps the morn’ as Romans surround her threatening death or violence, it emphasises just how defiant and steadfast in her faith she is. A similar point could be made about Theodora singing ‘Angels, ever bright and fair’ while being arrested, stripped and dressed in a sparkly dress and wig to ‘sweeten her up’ for the men. The real coup, however, is having two pole dancers swirl as Theodora sings ‘With darkness deep, as is my woe’, which on paper may sound crass, but in the event could not be more moving as it emphasises the sorrow of her situation. Their movements are so graceful that they really bring pathos to the scenario, and there is even a point where one is moving in time with the bass notes and the other with the instrumental lines above.
It is true that Theodora and Didymus’s Act II duet ‘To thee, thou glorious son of worth’ seems very different to usual in that rather than the music standing supreme, it feels as if its delivery is being made to work with the wider setting in which it is sung. However, to experience the music in a different way, working as part of a greater entity, is wonderful in its own right, and surely the whole point of staging an oratorio is so it can be revealed in different ways. The evening’s musical credentials are, in fact, excellent with conductor Harry Bicket proving just what a master he is in this type of repertoire as he extracts playing of the utmost beauty and precision from the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House. The cast is also uniformly strong with Julia Bullock’s sublime soprano as Theodora standing alongside Joyce DiDonato’s heartfelt singing as Irene as well as Ed Lyon’s intriguing Septimius and Gyula Orendt’s commanding Valens. First among equals, however, stands Jakub Józef Orliński as Didymus whose countertenor sound is as pure as it is undoubtedly polished.
The ending is the one moment when it feels as if the original is diverged from just a little too much, since we do need to focus on the feelings of Theodora and Didymus in ‘Thither let our hearts aspire!’, and on the words of the Christians in ‘Oh love divine, thou source of flame’, in order for it to have maximum impact. Even here, however, it must be admitted that, although what this production depicts at the end is bloody and violent, the images it actually creates hold a great deal of aesthetic appeal.
By Sam Smith
Theodora | 31 January - 16 February 2022 | Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
© Camilla Greenwell, ROH 2022
the 03 of February, 2022 | Print
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