Poppea has a strange history of recordings, ranging from the luscious and enticing arrangement of Raymond Leppard (available on a Castle Vision video), via the more restrained versions of Harnoncourt and Jacobs through to this, the most thoroughly slimmed-down version of all. The central question was always about how much needs to be added to the surviving notes in order to make the work viable on stage; a related question was whether it is realistic to imagine commercial theatres paying a substantial group of musicians to play for only ten or 15 minutes in the course of the opera’s three hours. Gardiner and his advisers believe that nothing needs adding and that the ‘orchestra’ indeed played only when explicitly notated in the score but that it was a very small group. To some ears this will have a fairly ascetic effect, not without its longueurs despite some prudent cuts. But it is firmly in line with current scholarly thinking about the opera, with the focus on the words, the vocal lines and the constantly changing emotions of the characters.
To compensate for that asceticism Gardiner has a rich group of continuo players, including two on harps, two on keyboard and four on plucked instruments; and they play with wonderful flexibility. Moreover the performers clearly underline every passing dissonance in the music; that is, they find a new lusciousness to replace the old. And Gardiner’s spacious reading of the score bursts with the variety of pace that one might expect from a seasoned conductor of early opera.
Another novelty is to base the performance not on the more famous Venice manuscript but on that in Naples, including several sections that are not usually heard. (Much of this material is thought not to be by Monteverdi, but that is another story, one that concerns much of the opera’s most attractive music.) Not content with that, Gardiner has tackled the problem of the strange counterpoint in the instrumental passages by commissioning new ones from Peter Holman, based on only the bass-lines of the Naples manuscript. Such a radical approach may seem almost to come out of the other end of the ‘authenticity’ debate in a way that makes the two extremes meet round the back; but Holman’s new compositions for five solo string instruments do seem well conceived and stylistically apposite.
Sylvia McNair is a gloriously sensuous Poppea: from her sleepy first words to the final duet she is always a thoroughly devious character, with her breathy, come-hither tones. Complementing this is Dana Hanchard’s angry-brat Nerone, less even in voice than one might hope, but dramatically powerful. Whether they quite challenge Helen Donath and Elisabeth Soderstrom for Harnoncourt must remain a matter of opinion, but they certainly offer a viable alternative.
The strongest performances here, though, come from Michael Chance and Anne Sofie von Otter as Ottone and Ottavia, both of them offering superbly rounded portrayals. Again they face severe challenges from Harnoncourt’s unforgettable Paul Esswood and Cathy Berberian, but here the challenge is more equal, being on roughly the same grounds. Francesco Ellero d’Artegna is perhaps the most vocally skilled Seneca to date, with a resonant low C (not in the score, but who cares?), though Michael Schopper for Rene Jacobs comes closer to the character of the oddball philosopher with clear political views for which he is happy to die. Catherine Bott is a wonderfully lively Drusilla; and the remainder of the cast are, as one might expect from Gardiner, consistently strong. If they are not always very good at presenting the work’s humorous moments that may be because this was recorded at a public concert (noticeable only from occasional superfluous noises).
My own preference remains with Harnoncourt, despite the shawms and everything, because even listening to Gardiner’s persuasive and intelligent account leaves me feeling that Poppea does actually need more help than any other work of Monteverdi (assuming that most of it is by him).'