Rinaldo was Handel’s first opera written specifically for London, from the year 1711 and when the composer was only 26. His entry into the city which was to be his home for the rest of his life was a triumphant one: Rinaldo was an immediate success, with its lavish plot and extravagant spectacle, including fireworks, waterfalls, Amazons, mermaids, airborne chariots, fire-breathing dragons and dramatic battles and magics. The opera comes from the story of “Rinaldo and Armida” from Torquato Tasso’s romantic epic poem Gerusalemme liberate (“Jerusalem Delivered”) of 1575. Apart from Handel, among the 40 or so other operas based on Tasso’s story are settings by Gluck, Lully, Salieri, Haydn, Rossini and Dvorak, although Handel’s version remains one of the most popular.

This particular production, helmed by Trevor Pinnock (left) and directed by Luise Napier, revisits James Robinson’s original 1999 version for Opera Australia, with contributions by 2004 Adelaide Ring alumni set designer Michael Scott-Mitchell and lighting designer Nick Schlieper. Among the cuts and changes introduced by Pinnock was the omission of the role of Eustazio, which came from Handel’s own 1713 revision in which the part was combined into that of his elder brother Goffredo. Directing from the harpsichord, Pinnock drew from William Babell’s study of ornamentation by which he personally gave the famous improvisation at the end of Armida’s aria at the end of Act 2.

Pinnock’s reading of the music is, of course, first-rate, and he manages to draw a lot of good stuff from the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra in what must be unfamiliar territory for the musicians: one is reminded of the uneveness of the Monteverdi-Purcell baroque doublebill from last year, and we should be quite thankful that history has not repeated itself.

On stage, Napier imparted a great deal of detail into Handel’s dramatic intent and thematic subtext in a physical fashion, with hand gestures and stylized poses, facial subtlety and bodily demeanor by which the feelings and intentions of the characters were revealed in tandem with the sung text. Scott-Mitchell, as always, made the most capital from Handel’s extraordinary staging  demands to create his own coups de theatre, including a boom-mounted magic boat which floated in mid-stage, an enchanted garden of trompe-l’oeil trees and bunnies, an oversized crown of thorns depicting Almirena’s captivity and an Escheresque magic mountain of moving, interlocking steps.

The two leading castrato roles, Rinaldo (left as Rinaldo) and Goffredo, were covered by countertenors Michael Chance and Graham Pushee respectively, giving strong, convincing performances. While some may feel that the modern countertenor voice is no replacement for the castrati of Handel’s day, here both singers acquit themselves well in considerably difficult roles.

Emma Matthews, who earned accolades as Almirena in the 1999 production, reprises the same role here opposite Rachelle Durkin as her nemesis, the sorceress Armida. Both of them catch the characterizations of their respective roles to perfection: Almirena with her sincere love for Rinaldo but whose outward strength is a façade; Armida whose emotional state is a pendulum swinging between the extremities of love and hate. Both ladies capture the nuances of their roles to perfection, and it would be hard to imagine a better performance than this.

On other fronts, up-and-comer Henry Choo makes a memorable cameo as Argante’s messenger, as does Richard Anderson as the Magic Christian; Richard Alexander is no less impressive in the somewhat thankless role of Argante, the Saracen conqueror of Jerusalem. But at its core, there are no real villains in this sort of morality tale, as such, but rather just intricate relationships between people struggling with their own foibles and flaws. From this first-team cast, Napier’s insightful direction, Scott-Mitchell and Schlieper’s visual eye-candy and Pinnock’s musical supervision, the result is a stylish confection that cannot fail to please.