Be careful what you wish for. Semele finds out the hard way as she tries to rise above her station by seeking elevation to deity, fuelled by vanity and greed. There’s also a fitting line in the famous old Frost Report sketch, ‘I know my place’ (with John Cleese and the Two Ronnies). As the sermon cliché says, perhaps there’s a lesson in that for us all. That’s appropriate, as this new ‘site specific’ performance of Handel’s superb oratorio takes place on and around the altar of Auckland’s Anglican Cathedral. 

It’s not the first time Auckland theatre has put human flesh and wine on the sacred space of the church.  Way back, the late Tony Taylor’s production of Bernstein’s Mass saw a priest stripping down to his undies on the altar – but that was in the Town Hall on a constructed altar.  Semele is performed in the chancel of Holy Trinity cathedral, with the Dean in the front row on opening night, almost close enough to touch the naked thighs of Semele as Jupiter is stroking them. Yes, this is quite a saucy romp.

NZ Opera have defied the economic odds to heroically mount this rediscovered oratorio as a compelling, colourful entertainment with the highest standards of invention, performance and musical accomplishment. I say “rediscovered” because following two seasons and just twelve performances from its premiere in 1744, it lay unperformed until 1925.

The oratorio form became popular as a much cheaper way to stage operatic performances with a sacred theme or context. Few are as opera-like as Semele with its contrived plot of infidelity, lust and disguise. 

Originally from Ovid’s Latin poem Metamorphosis, its libretto comes from English novelist William Congreve, most famous perhaps for originating the expressions “music has charms to sooth a savage breast” and “hell hath no fury…”.  His thrusting against the structured morality of the time was almost considered profanity.

In Handel’s day, royalty ruled the musical roost. The more simply staged (hence cheaper) oratorio was not only free from the ties of that benefaction but could also be performed on Holy Days. Semele’s mix of the sacred and profane met some expected opposition and was even described as “a quiet defiance of law and convention”.

Tracy Grant Lord’s design has taken colours from the seven-petal stained glass rose window of the building. Character interpretations cover high church to bikie gang, society wedding to westie.

Making full use of the acoustically superb cathedral, the musical inventiveness of Handel shines forth as director Thomas de Mallet Burgess and conductor Peter Walls bring together technically demanding singing, with its baroque curls and embellishments, and a warm and fascinating tapestry of pure and yet sometimes complex music. It’s interesting that period English has been used, rather than a more modern rendering, but it adds a certain weight and suits the cathedral surrounding.  Generally clear, the language could benefit from better attack on some of the consonants, so the periodic captions on screens are helpful.

The fourteen recitatives, usually spoken/sung with the punctuation and accompaniment of a harpsichord or cello, are embellished by a whole baroque orchestra.  It has been especially assembled for this production and performs smoothly and seamlessly under talented young concertmaster, violinist Peter Clark. The baroque horns of Acts 1 and 2, and the natural trumpets of Act 3, with the assured aspiration of Peter Reid and Gordon Lehany, add vitality and a festive feeling.

Chorus master and new NZO Head of Music Andrew Crooks has assembled a strong choir and chorus to wrap around the wedding presence which themes this production.

Our role as ‘wedding guests’ in the cathedral nave is enhanced by tenor Andrew Grenon posing and acting as a wedding photographer among us, with some buy-in from the audience who have been handed wedding programmes at the entry. After some cast take selfies as they filter down the aisle, the conductor bows over the altar, the ecclesiastical party takes its place at the Eucharistic table, the thuribles are lit and the ceremony is blessed by the rich bass voice of Sashe Angelovski as the priest.

Semele’s father, Cadmus, with a fine bass resonance, brings her down the aisle to her groom, a visually dampened down Stephen Diaz, whose clarity and energy, even as the soppy Athamas, proceeds to fill the cathedral with a beautifully liquid, mahogany-timbred, counter-tenor voice.

Their repeated plea to Semele “invent no new delay” suggests this moment has not been easily arrived at.  Ino, who has designs on Athamas, complains “thou hast undone me”. This is just the beginning of Sarah Castle’s full occupancy of the dual roles of Ino and Juno, the wife of the cheating god Jupiter.

The eponymous bride-to-be is sung by soprano Emma Pearson, who is about to have a masterclass in diction from her mezzo chameleon coloratura Castle. Both show a sense of comedy and a command of the seriously and sometimes sensitively fluttery running of notes, at which Sarah Castle especially is a master. Emma Pearson with her lovely, pure voice remains lythe and strong right up until Semele’s subsidence.

Starting from the courtyard, Jove (Jupiter) rumbles his displeasure. Then, in a Meatloaf motorcycle moment, Semele ascends into his realm with all the flirtatious relish of a call-girl taking the lift to the penthouse, singing ironically of Endless Pleasure, Endless Love.  For a mortal, nothing is endless.

The jilted Athamas and wishful Ino console each other in soft airs and a beautifully liquid duet. By now, Semele is partying it up in the choir loft with karaoke mic, a chorus grooving away behind: all very amusing but bizarrely asynchronous. Emma Pearson’s effortless tones descend to meet the orchestra behind the altar and the choir melts it all together in a deliciously 3D experience.

As Act 2 begins, we are projected into the clouds.  The gods are on cellphones (an affectation that has done its time) as Sarah Castle and Chelsea Dolman (as Iris) appear up on the galleries above the altar to act out one of the star turns of the oratorio, the crowd-pleasing Hence Iris Away. Castle’s comedic chops are in full vigour as she brings together Joanna Lumley’s Patsy and the Queen of the Night, raising the expected audience applause, while Germany-based Dolman, who is supported by the Wallace Foundation, shows how wonderfully she has grown in confidence and technique over just the few years since attaining the Dame Sister Mary Leo Scholarship back in 2015.

Another rising operatic talent, Amitai Pati (Sol3 Mio) takes the role of Jupiter (Jove), lending his physicality and acting skill to an easy and fluid tenor delivery.  Showing an effortless lyricism and secured vibrato, he glides through the most famous aria this side of Messiah, ‘Where’re you walk’. Jupiter is enjoying the “sweets of love” in Arcadia, without the pain, but Juno is on the way with her accomplice Iris, via a duet and a cosmic fly-by.

Act 3 begins with torches in the dark as the winged avengers seek Somnus, the god of Sleep – surely the patron saint of teenagers. Paul Whelan – who also plays the stiff-backed Cadmus, father of the bride – emerges from his pile of blankets to unfold a beautifully moderated long and lazy vibrato. With his help the plot advances. Semele, lounging in Arcadia in her Aussie bride lingerie, is teased into the vain reflection, ‘Myself I shall adore’, as she plays with a mirror held up by Ino (Juno in disguise).

The fulfilment of her wish for immortality brings bicycles, barmen and the birth of Bacchus/Dionysius “from bellying clouds”, although the posthumous delivery of her child, the God of Wine, is glossed over. The bolts from beyond are rather underwhelming, as is Semele’s end, with its “terror and astonishment” having about as much drama as Don Giovanni drowning in the bath.

Athamas has the honour of the last aria of the work. Apollo (Pati) declares future happiness, the priests absolve all from guilt, and we end this most entertaining parable.

Handel’s use of duets and even quartets, adds a satisfying polyphony to the simplicity of the oratorio. All through, the recitatives are bracketed and supported by an elegant and timely continuo from Douglas Mews’ harpsichord and James Bush’s cello, as well as the innovation of the full baroque orchestra accompaniment. The onion-skin layering of sounds is very appealing, and the cathedral adds its own warm harmonic.

For anyone concerned that the front altar given by Pope John Paul 2 has been defiled, I am assured that the bigamous bed and frolics of the gods take place on a new construction.

After a generally joyless winter, this fun-filled production is a post-lockdown reminder that the composer of the solemn Easter oratorio, Messiah, with his Lenten parable Semele brings joy and amusement. After all, the man who put musicians along the Thames for The Water Music and accompanied the Royal fireworks was more than a trill-seeking genius, he was a real showman.

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