Then Agrippina brings in Narciso (Tom Verney, a hardworking but less accomplished falsettist). Now, readers: repeat everything in the previous paragraph from “strikes blatant poses” to the end. Go on, re-read. No omissions or variations. Verney has also been to the gym.There’s Carsen’s idea of what’s amusing, and of what will nail the parallelism into our skulls, in case we might have missed it. It’s humiliating to watch these people grapple with one another while trying to flag things for us, and while I don’t know whether either of these singers could really fulfill his aria assignment, both of those go out the window in the course of the supposed steaminess, especially when the passagework gets going, which it inevitably does. (Handel, remember?)

Act 1, Scenes 2-5, Hampe: First, I have to record that this Nerone is a tenor, and a good one, David Kuebler. Once in a while in the course of the performance he gets a little gargley, but his voice is strong and clear, he’s on the button pitchwise, executes florid passages and rapid articulations with considerable brilliance (you might assume that Arditti would take first prize in the flashy last-act aria “Come nube che fugge dal vento,” and indeed he renders it well, but Kuebler matches him for precision and velocity, and it’s far more exciting in a tenor voice), and can fire off a ringing top note when there’s an occasion for it. He also has a virile, poised presence, so he comes off as a grown-up and a threat, not an impotent boy.

Proceeding: Agrippina (soprano Barbara Daniels) summons Pallante (Ulrich Hielscher, a bassier bass than Pass). We’re already in a Handelian frame of mind, because of the beautiful and sumptuous furnishings and costumes, which the performers know how to use and wear. Daniels, like Bardon, strikes a first pose, but it’s not blatant, and not a sexual come-on, but rather an affectation of mourning for Claudio (of course!). Pallante’s subservient status and his reluctance to be so presumptuous as to declare his feelings (simply obliterated by Carsen’s brutalism) are clearly conveyed, so that the charade of Agrippina’s pardoning him (and the re-enactment of the same ploy with Narciso) makes sense of the text. The recitative, just barged through by Bardon and Pass, is here given a real sense of nuanced confiding, of suggestion underneath a social surface (a great strength of Daniels’ performance throughout), and both performers go in and out of the asides with sharp definition—something that’s very spotty in the Carsen production, where the performers must often try to make it look as if they’re talking to themselves. Hielscher is not a virtuoso coloratura basso, but, able to keep a mental focus and a physical center, he sings his aria capably and with good tone. The da capo is cut. All the promise, allure, and deception of this scene still happens, but far more subtly and credibly.

Now Agrippina calls in Narciso, who turns out to be a genial, gobsmacked, overweight old retainer sort, eager to please his sovereign (Eberhard Katz, a rather stiff-voiced low character tenor).  Pallante and Narciso are different persons, so Daniels treats them individually; it’s quite enough that the text retains its repetitions. Narciso’s da capo is also omitted, and unless brilliant ornamental singers are somehow available for these roles (which have very little to sing from here on out), I think that’s no loss—the arias are nice enough, but these are essentially expositional scenes to get the plot off to a quick start.