"All tears" is how Shakespeare famously described Niobe, the mythic queen of Thebes, whose pride was punished by the gods with the death of her children, and whose grief was so unremitting that she was eventually transformed into a stone that continued to weep. You won't, I'm afraid, be comparably distraught by the end of Agostino Steffani's eponymous opera, first performed in Munich in 1688. The piece languished in obscurity until its discovery by Thomas Hengelbrock, who performed it in Schwetzingen in 2008 and now brings the same production to Covent Garden.
Priest-composer Steffani is the sternest of moralists. His sympathies and his best music are reserved for Niobe's husband, Anfione, who longs to abandon politics in favour of a life of spirituality. Niobe is depicted with near-misogynist contempt as a woman whose vanity lures her first into callous sexual games with besotted courtier Clearte, then an affair with Thessalian prince Creonte, whom she erroneously believes to be a god. The climactic outpouring of sorrow is Anfione's, not hers, and petrifaction is viewed as a fitting end for one so hard of heart.
You don't feel much for the kids, either, in Lukas Hemleb's coolly chic production. They are portrayed as an odious crew, whom Niobe (the superb Véronique Gens), in a moment of blasphemy, eggs on to beat up blind priest Tiresia (Bruno Taddia). There's some exquisite singing from Jacek Laszczkowski (Anfione), Tim Mead (Clearte) and Iestyn Davies (Creonte), and Hengelbrock's commitment is never in doubt. You're left at a loss, though, as to why he wanted to revive it when greater works are still absent from the repertoire.
