While this might be considered shocking in later operas – imagine ‘La donna è mobile’ inserted into the Aida tomb scene – it is in accordance with historical custom. In an era when audiences demanded only the latest opera and when singers had the ultimate power, composers frequently recycled earlier arias and the singers themselves carried what were known as portmanteau arias, personal favourites that they inserted into every opera they performed, whether they were suitable or not. Half a century ago, in the early days of the opera seria rediscovery, Handel, now considered sacrosanct, was treated in the same way. Even Richard Bonynge had no qualms about severely pruning, rearranging, and switching arias from one character to another.

This worked in part because the opera seria libretto, modelled on the blueprint of the master Metastasio, stuck fairly rigidly to a set format. The nobility – always the nobility – feud with one another, and everyone is in love with a person who doesn’t love them or is kept apart from their loved one by circumstances. This gives the composer a chance to create a mix of combative, remorseful, and yearning arias.

The men are either strong and noble or rapacious and evil – the women virtuous victims or emasculating harpies. What makes Antonio Maria Lucchini’s libretto interesting is that, as much as they can within the format, his characters break free from these limitations. Farnace, king of Pontus, the titular hero, may be noble but he is allowed to show signs of weakness. Defeated by the Romans and pursued by Berenice, the mother-in-law from hell whose husband his father killed, Farnace orders his wife, Berenice’s daughter Tamiri, to kill herself and their son rather than fall into Roman hands and then goes on the run. He is a somewhat ineffectual hero. It is the three female characters who propel the plot: Tamiri, who disobeys her husband and attempts to save both herself and their son; Berenice, who uses her power to attempt to get her way; and Selinda, Farnace’s sister, who, though powerless, plays men off against one another and successfully achieves her aims.

Christopher Lowrey as Farnace in Farnace (photograph by Brett Boardman)

Mark Gaal takes up the theme of a long-running blood feud and presents us with a country destroyed by war. Benjamin Brockman’s lighting is for the most part moodily gloomy; for much of the first act conductor Erin Helyard’s gleaming scalp seemed to be the visual focus. Black plastic-wrapped bodies incongruously decorated with red roses hang from the flies and are embraced or used as punching bags until they are finally laid out. Pontus bordered the Black Sea and there is a Balkan feel to the proceedings. Soldiers endlessly and, it must be said, rather aimlessly roam around waving rifles. Gaal hasn’t entirely solved the perennial problem in these static operas of how to move his characters meaningfully. There is a lot of pointless wandering around the stage. At one moment, Taryn Fiebig’s Selinda literally climbs the walls before delivering a sublime version of the beautiful aria ‘Se mai senti’ from Catone in Utica (1737). The convention of the time meant that the opera should end happily. But when the other characters lay down their guns, Gaal makes Farnace’s young son immediately pick one up and aim it at the audience. The bloodshed is only ever over temporarily.

Gaal has obviously worked with his singers to develop what Lucchini has given them. As Farnace, Christopher Lowrey started tentatively but soon settled in. He gave a superbly sung heartbreaking rendition of ‘Gelido in ogni vena’, the aria in which he mourns the supposed death of his son. Like her character, Tamiri, Helen Sherman grew in stature as the evening progressed. In her determination to save her son no matter what, Sherman showed us that Tamiri was not merely a victim. The highlight of her performance came in a fleeting moment of peace when she declared her love for her husband in that delicious partnership between flute and singer from Orlando Furioso (1727), ‘Sol da te, mio dolce amore’.

Jacqueline Dark in Farnace (photograph by Brett Boardman)

Judging from her Berenice, Jacqueline Dark could corner the market in wicked queens. Swirling around the stage like a vicious tornado, this was not a lady to cross lightly. But Dark also showed Berenice’s vulnerable side in the aria ‘Se lento ancora il fulmine’ from Argippo (1730). In the final scene, she managed Berenice’s far-fetched volte-face from monster to loving mother, necessary because of the obligatory happy ending, without getting a laugh from the audience.

Selinda – as far from a victim as it is possible to be – is the most interesting character in the opera. Setting Berenice’s captain, Gilade, against the Roman prefect, Aquilio, it is she who brings about the triumph of good. Fiebig’s stage nous plus her natural charm showed us the warm human being under the cunning manipulator. Vocally the rest of her performance was on a par with the aforementioned aria.

The two patsies, Max Riebl as Gilade and Michael Petruccelli as Aquilio, had less to work with character-wise but made the most of what they had. Petruccelli attacked his role with vigour and Riebl’s passionate, beautifully sung Gilade was at his best in the aria ‘Se a me rivogle il ciglio’ from the cantata Amor, hai Vinto.

Helyard and his orchestra were in great form, with outstanding work from flautist Mikaela Oberg. Pinchgut have given us an entertaining and very performable opera, but it would be interesting to play one of Vivaldi’s various versions of Farnace straight.

Farnace, presented by Pinchgut Opera, continues at Angel Place on December 7, 8, and 10. Performance attended December 4.