If you’ve ever been brutally disappointed in love — and not even for good cause, just because someone’s not that into you — you might feel a certain kinship with the sorceress Melissa in Handel’s opera “Amadigi di Gaula.”

她有所有the chivalrous knight of the title could want in a woman. So why is he mooning after that simpering nobody Oriana?

The outrage of unrequited love courses like lava through the score of this rarely heard 1715 work, which got a thrilling performance on Thursday, April 20, from the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra & Chorale. There’s an almost scary ferocity to Handel’s writing in this piece, and Thursday’s semi-staged presentation — the first of three in the Taube Atrium Theater under Music Director理查德Egarr— mined that quality to its fullest.

Romantic missteps and crossed wires, of course, constitute the main subject matter for most of Handel’s 40-some operas, and indeed for most Baroque operas of any sort: A loves B, who loves C, who pines for D — that’s pretty much the basic template.

But “Amadigi” rips any hint of restraint or gentility away from that formula, presenting love as a bare-knuckles brawl on an emotional playing field.

Part of that comes from the compressed nature of the drama. Instead of the usual impossible-to-follow tangle of attachment and indifference, the mathematical layout of “Amadigi,” which runs a swift intermissionless hour and 45 minutes, is simplicity itself.

Amadigi (countertenorAnthony Roth Costanzo) and Oriana (sopranoDeanna Breiwick) are in love. Amadigi’s sidekick Dardano (mezzo-soprano Briana Hunter, in a trouser role) loves Oriana and therefore hates Amadigi. The sorceress Melissa (sopranoNicole Heaston) loves Amadigi and therefore hates Oriana.

What that means for the emotions of everyone concerned is evoked with rare specificity in Handel’s score, which Egarr and the ensemble rendered superbly. The instrumental writing is shot through with dark colors (including a magnificent aria featuring a lugubrious bassoon solo), and orchestral outbursts pop up suddenly to carry a load of grief and outrage.

Melissa may not be the title character, but she’s certainly the work’s dramatic focus, a fireball of resentment who has the magic powers to make others feel her wrath. She locks Oriana in a Rapunzel-style tower, and later uses her skill to deceive her into falling for Dardano. In one of the most captivating episodes of director Louisa Muller’s staging, which takes place against the backdrop of Ian Winters’ visual projections, Melissa mocks Amadigi’s suffering while sending him into contortions like a wireless marionette.

Heaston’s singing, both vivid and shapely, conveyed every bit of the character’s malevolence and turmoil, while encouraging the audience to empathize with her pain. The rest of the cast kept pace with her throughout, from Hunter’s robust and noble heroism to the poignant tenderness passing between Costanzo and Breiwick.

Most encouraging of all, perhaps, was the athletic and alert leadership provided by Egarr. Conducting Philharmonia in Handel’s music, after all, is an assignment that was filled for decades with utter mastery by Egarr’s predecessor, longtimeMusic Director Nicholas McGegan.

But Egarr turns out to bring his ownartistic prioritiesto the task, providing weight and urgency in place of McGegan’s unflappable elegance. Both are important concerns, but “Amadigi di Gaula,” with its almost bloodthirsty vivacity, proved a splendid showcase for Egarr’s approach.

Reach Joshua Kosman:jkosman@sfchronicle.com; Twitter:@JoshuaKosman