When Poul Ruders’s opera of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale opened in Copenhagen in 2000, the famous TV adaptation of her dystopian novel was in the future. Over two decades what seemed then a disturbing omen at a time of increasing extremism has now become ever more alarmingly relevant, portraying a world in which violence against women has become the system, and violent oppression is institutionalised. 

Ruders and his librettist Paul Bentley adapted the novel with skill, and when I saw the premiere in Denmark in its garishly coloured, impactful production by Phyllida Lloyd, I thought it had the potential to be one of the most powerful operas of our time. But when it came to English National Opera (who had co-commissioned it) in 2003, it disappointingly misfired. The complexity in the scenario, full of flashbacks, was not helped by the demands of Ruders’s score for high voices at full stretch, and without surtitles too much of the text was simply unintelligible. 

So it was a brave move by artistic director Annilese Miskimmon to choose this problematic piece for her first new staging since joining English National Opera, but the choice was vindicated in a totally committed and communicative performance that drew a refreshingly youthful audience. Perhaps those who have watched four series of the ever-lengthening TV series may now have found the opera’s original storyline over-simple, but the tale of a brutal regime that has taken over the United States and turned it in to Gilead was clearly told; in our surtitle era every word could be followed, the story framed by guest actor Camille Cottin’s mock-academic lecture, looking back from 2195.

The triumph of the evening was Kate Lindsey’s Offred, who in the new world of Gilead is snatched from her husband and daughter to become a handmaiden in the Red Centre; her function is to be impregnated by the Commander (Robert Hayward) and produce acceptable babies. She sang with piercing clarity and directness, touching in her wistful second-act duet with her younger self and in her encounter with the caring chauffeur Nick (Frederick Ballentine). It helped to clarify the dramaturgy that the several moments of flashback were now mainly filmed; the drawback was that the curtained set enabling the projections provided no sense of place and was predominately dreary.