Jephtha review

The Royal Opera began its ‘Handel odyssey’ back in 2018. The latest instalment is this 1752 oratorio, presented at this venue for the first time since the composer’s day. Handel would never have expected such a piece to be staged: a ban on the representation of biblical figures on the English stage, instituted 20 years earlier by the bishop of London, would last until the beginning of the 20th century.

Handel’s oratorios may be dramatic in terms of narrative and characters, but in practice, they are scarcely foolproof stage material. Director Oliver Mears struggles with such a lengthy moral pronouncement as the chorus, “How dark, O Lord, are thy decrees”. In general terms, though, his production does a creditable job in bringing the material to dramatic life.

The Israelites are depicted as a Puritan sect, their Ammonite enemies as hedonistic Hogarthian revellers. Allan Clayton sings the role of the stern, and in many ways deeply unsympathetic, Israelite leader who rashly volunteers a vow, provided victory is granted him, to cause the first person he encounters on his return to either become entirely devoted to Jehovah or else to be sacrificed. This hapless victim turns out to be his own daughter, Iphis – who is already engaged to Hamor; in this production their sexual interest in each other is clear.

Mears boldly subverts the libretto’s ending. Initially, Jephtha intends to go through with the sacrifice; but following the intervention of the Angel (excellent boy treble Ivo Clark) sent by Jehovah to prevent Jephtha’s daughter from becoming a burnt offering, Jennifer France’s Iphis rejects the nun-like garments in which she is dressed as a full-time servant of the Lord, and simply runs off with Cameron Shahbazi’s Hamor. The people, meanwhile, turn on Jephtha, stripping him of his robes of authority and finally imprisoning him. Many in the audience will find this ending more palatable than the original, written by 18th-century divine Thomas Morell, in which Iphis submissively accepts her permanently virginal future.

Clayton offers a strong and musically distinguished performance of the title role without entirely seizing the tragic potential available in Jephtha’s dilemma – something more readily achieved by Alice Coote as the victorious warrior’s conflicted wife, Storgè. France and Shahbazi draw vocally attractive and emotionally credible portrayals of the frustrated young lovers, with Brindley Sherratt making the most of the conventional role of Jephtha’s brother, Zebul.

Providing an apt visual background throughout are Simon Lima Holdsworth’s monumental sets, engraved with biblical texts, and Ilona Karas’ dramatically conceived costumes, both lit by Fabiana Piccioli with a brilliantly thought-through use of light and dark. Despite a touch of heaviness to the orchestral textures and some staid tempi under conductor Laurence Cummings, the quality of the music comes through.