Women masquerading as men who are dressed as women; emasculated men who seduce women effortlessly with a few high notes - Mark Ryan's script relishes the opportunities for sexual intrigue and mischief afforded by the castrati, the superstars of 17th and 18th century opera, whose purity of tone was prized by the Catholic Church.
In Castradiva, seven superb arias by Handel and Gluck are linked by the colourful narrative of the life of an Italian singer called Pedrolino, "il primo castrato". The arias, which were specially composed for the castrato voice and are now usually performed by countertenors, are sung with passion by the Welsh mezzo, Buddug Verona James.
Clad in a glittering gold and purple frock coat and breeches, she also plays all the speaking parts, swaggering and winking at us, and using masks to switch between roles as she tells the story of Pedrolino's infatuation with a young castrato, Ortensio, who turns out to be a girl in disguise.
The performance is an 80-minute divertissement, which would sit more comfortably in a fringe programme rather than being billed on its own. The singing, accompanied by Andrew Wilson Dickson on harpsichord, Nicholas Milne on viola da gamba and Marianne Szucs on baroque violin, is richly expressive, and that, of course, is the point. But as theatre, it is underdeveloped.
The narrative is flimsy, tending to cliche, and the acting somewhat uneven. Chris Morgan's direction could have been more adventurous: the one point where Buddug Verona James really lets go is when she sings Handel's Ha non so che nel cor with the high camp bravado of a 1970s glam rock star, complete with phallic microphone, surrounded by swirling dappled lights.
