Cavalli’s Orione is great fun, precisely because the opera differs from what we might expect from a mid-17th century work. The Urtext edition published as part of the Cavalli Complete Edition offers a starting-point for entertaining performances.

Market forces, similar to those which dominate today’s entertainment industry, led Cavalli to hesitate for over a decade before setting Orione to music. The text was by a young poet whose reputation (and Roman connections) had opened doors in Venice for him in 1642.  Francesco Melosio’s libretto was sparkling and witty, but it had one drawback – it wasn’t “Venetian”.

Melosio, who understood how to skilfully dismantle courtly play-acting and affectations, undoubtedly shared a trend then prevailing in the Adriatic Republic. But why didn’t he fit with the mood of these years? The poet seemed not only “foreign”, but detached from his time. He himself was fully aware of this: “I write when the mood takes me and ... don’t want to tie myself to the strict observance of rules.” What seems to be an advantage to us today was evidently regarded by Cavalli as a disadvantage – until 1649, when he set Cicognini’s Giasone, he avoided “unusual” libretti.

About the plot: blinded by the desire for revenge, Orione arrives at Delos during the Pythian Games. There the demigod regains his sight through Apollo and then immediately becomes a victim when he catches sight of Diana’s beauty. The requited love provokes envy amongst the assembled gods, who are roused by the innocence of the young man and his stupid servant. Diana herself kills the lover whom she does not recognize, unconsciously spurred on by her brother Apollo who has just returned, jealous of Venus’s tricks and Cupid’s moods.

But Cavalli’s greatest reservations were perhaps concerned with another “un-Venetian” feature. The characters in Orione are all a little exaggerated, indeed downright unpleasant. Melosio’s cynicism forces the observer to enjoy the wit of the text more than to allow him or herself to be moved. An intellectual entertainment which promised a great deal of appreciation, but few performances. As well as this, nobody marries at the end, the villains aren’t punished, and the good ... well, there isn’t anyone in this piece who is truly good. Poor Orione dies in the middle of the third act, before he can rid himself of his gullibility. Sighs of relief from the audience? At any rate these were not to be expected from the impresario.

Despite this, Orione is an amusing libretto, and it would be a shame to leave it in a drawer. In 1653 Cavalli resurrected the text for Milan (it was no coincidence that this was a “foreign” theatre), his first commission for a stage outside Venice. People probably wanted to repeat the spectacular success of Giasone, which had been performed four years earlier, in Milan.

Now the time was ripe. By then, Monteverdi’s L‘incoronazione di Poppea had demonstrated that the fate of a band of criminals could also be portrayed on the operatic stage; Cavalli’s librettist Cicognini had paid his respects to a weak bon viveur, a victim of his hormonal releases; and his Calisto, unsuitable for those under age, had shown in its deliberate confusion of sexual equilibristics, that the female protagonist could die without causing all too severe reactions from the audience. All these eccentricities are found in Orione, but they now seemed to be much less subversive.

Cavalli didn’t even attempt to bring the dramaturgy of the libretto up-to-date. And with this, he did not forgo anything, for he knew only too well that the power of this text lies in its language. The composer adapts his style to the libretto with agility, he demonstrates that he can write, as a Marazzoli or an Abbatini would have done –  especially in the recitatives which approach the flowing language – and demonstrates with this on the one hand an exceptional dramatic sensitivity, and on the other hand an excessive trust in the intelligence of his audience.

In fact Orione enjoyed only a limited success (perhaps also because some clumsy interventions had been made in Milan). The conjunction of an old, but innovative libretto with more modern music which didn’t fit into the conventional mould produced a hybrid work which made no mark in its day.  However, with its complexity of linguistic meanings, it allows us astonishing insights into its epoch. This opera once failed because it did not relinquish any of its characteristic features; for present-day audiences, who are prepared to make the effort to rediscover the work, Orione reveals itself as still fresh in its entire innovative madness, even after centuries.

Davide Daolmi
(from [t]akte 1/2015 – translation: Elizabeth Robinson)