Tamerlano hails from 1724, the same year as Giulio Cesare and Rodelinda. If it fails to match their level of musical invention, it arguably boasts a richer emotional palette with three-dimensional characters buffeted by love, lust and the desire for retribution. A palpable hit in its day, the defeated Turkish sultan, Bajazet was one of the first leading roles ever written for a tenor. There were plum opportunities as well for two of the era’s megastars: Francesca Cuzzoni as Bajazet’s daughter Asteria and the great alto castrato Senesino as the plot’s endlessly conflicted pivot, the Greek prince Andronico.
The action takes place at the court of the despotic emperor Tamerlano to where the stubborn Bajazet has been brought in chains. The tyrant has the hots for Asteria and so decides to dump his betrothed, Irene, Princess of Trebizond. His not-so cunning plan involves offering Irene’s hand to Andronico, but alas, Andronico too loves Asteria. With both Bajazet and Andronico constantly threatening to end it all, and Asteria hell bent on assassinating Tamerlano, it’s a miracle the opera ends with an implicit double wedding instead of a bloodbath.
In her programme note Orpha Phelan explains that to relieve audiences of the need for any prior knowledge of the historical backstory, she has aligned each character with a more recognisable famous figure. Tamerlano thus becomes Trump; Andronico, Alexander the Great; Bajazet, a Renaissance painter. Irene seems to be either Elizabeth Bennet or an escapee from Bridgerton. The whole affair, we are told during the overture, is “Social Experiment 2”, manipulated by Andronico’s friend Leone, here, apparently, Sigmund Freud.
With the characters reduced to unconnected archetypes, their feelings are rendered incomprehensible at best. Still, Phelan moves her pieces well around Madeleine Boyd’s resourceful in-the-round set, nicely lit by Matt Haskins, and musical standards are high, led by Laurence Cummings and the excellent Academy of Ancient Music.
A fine cast copes admirably with Phelan’s concept, throwing themselves into it with gusto with Chris Cowell’s respectable English translation. Benjamin Hulett combines nobility and spite as Bajazet, his flexible tenor liquid gold. As Asteria, Nardus Williams sings with purity and passion, ably partnered by Jake Ingbar, whose velvety countertenor is a perfect fit for Andronico. Kitty Whately mines the text for all its worth as Irene, with Jonathan Brown a commanding Leone. As Tamerlano, James Laing is somewhat overwhelmed by too much fidgety business – eating Big Macs, cheating at golf, doing the Trump dance etc. Fun though it is, so much buffoonery strips the opera of its vital element of danger.
• At Shoreditch Town Hall, London, until 28 March.
