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Rigoletto’s Cage Rage :  Vancouver Opera Fans challenge 'The Critics.' (TandS)

[This article was sent in by a group of Canadian opera fans after attending Vancouver Opera's recent production of Rigoletto. They pose an important question about who is the better judge of opera productions, audiences in general or the professional critics, and they are in little doubt about the right answer. Apart from Seen and Heard's Bernard Jacobson (see review) that is, about whom they are mildly complimentary. Ed]

The Tom and Seth Operatic Society hereby challenges Vancouver-based opera critics to a duel (perhaps in a cage), but first, here’s our  story.

The Tom and Seth Operatic Society (or TSOS) was created in 2004 when Tom, who has been attending opera since 1940, met Seth who, though in his mid-twenties, had never seen a single production. Together we created our club in the hope of introducing opera-curious people to this great art form.  TSOS has recruited about 100 people so far and has taken groups of as few as five and as many as thirty, to productions as far south as Seattle and as far west as UBC. Our leading supplier though has been Vancouver Opera, which has produced some superb shows that have captured the surprised approval of many opera rookies.

How TSOS works is that before each opera, Tom gathers our members to sample the music and plot so that we are ready for our (re)viewing. This preparation sets a high bar for live performances though because Tom selects only impeccable samples for TSOS to study.

In many cases, Vancouver Opera has fully satisfied our sensitised palates.  The collective particularly enjoyed the heart-grabbing realism of “Dialogues of the Carmelites” in 2005 and the vibrant world of the maddening “Eugene Onegin” in 2009 but sometimes we have been disappointed. We were left with multiple raised eyebrows after the oddly zombie-filled “Madama Butterfly” in 2004 but regardless of whether bravos or boos are called for, TSOS members have remained both intrigued and contented overall; so for each Vancouver Opera production, we still gather 10-15 interested viewers , often including some first timers.

When Vancouver Opera presented Verdi’s “Rigoletto”, directed by Glynis Leyshon in March this year, Tom previewed it on the opening night and subsequently told the preparatory gathering that it was a modern production with some “interesting” choices in set design. Tom noted that Vancouver's opera reviewers generally applauded the production, but insisted that as always, we were under no obligation to agree with prevailing opinions. We would make out own analysis as usual, and as he guided us through the tragic tale of Rigoletto,  we were primed for a bonanza evening.

Yet our mouths were agape after witnessing Leyshon’s production. While there was some glorious singing (particularly from soprano Eglise Gutierrez in the pivotal role of Gilda), the drama was weighed down by the director’s relentless symbolism, which we found  unoriginal and about as worthy of attention as a child’s temper tantrum. (Gilda, for the most jaw-dropping instance, lives literally in a cage, which announces to the audience what we might have already worked out from the plot: her dad, Rigoletto, is kinda over-protective.)  When Gilda gets out of her prison and spends the night with Rigoletto’s boss the Duke of Mantua, her previously-pristine white dress is exchanged for scarlet red - whatever that might mean! Worse, the production was obstructed by an awkward, divorced-from-reality stage design, which featured a set-filling, multi-level cage and a checkered floor, making the Duke’s royal court look like the computer game Tron.

We pounced on the set design first. Clare (a veteran of six previous operas), was the most generous: “I quite liked the cage and stripes on the floor when it was paired with the night sky in Scene 2 of Act I,” she said. “It gave a kind of futuristic starkness, which counteracted the beauty of Gilda’s aria. Having the stripes still there in the rural scene of Act III was really distracting however, and they also looked out of place in the court scenes.”

Erin (with ten opera-viewings in her portfolio) quickly supported the limitations  of using the cage for every scene: “I think they saved money on the set so that they could pay the soprano.”  Rob (three previous) agreed and commented succinctly, “I did not like the staging.”  “You mean the holodeck?” Kim ( one previous opera) asked.  “No, no,” Rob returned, “the squares were there so that the cast could play tic-tac-toe or hopscotch during the intermission.”  But the consensus was against Rob on this one.

 “The set looked like it was for a monster-truck-rally-ultimate-fighting championship,” Erin offered.  “Yes,” Kim agreed, “to me it looked as if the setup crew was short for time and so went with the leftovers from the previous production, namely a UFC cage match.” “Where’s Hollywood Hogan when you need him?” Rob said, conceding the metaphor battle.  Meanwhile, Brian who just attended his first ever opera, tried to meet the production where it was at: “Being an operatic virgin,” he pondered, “I was thrown by the caging effect. But I get it: cage equals chastity belt—all it needed was a giant padlock.”

The two-storeyed cage cause offence by more than its grand metaphor: we were also confused when the cage’s checkered floor doubled as a horizontal entrance to Rigoletto’s house.  “I guess,” Rob postulated, “his house was under a trap door?”  Clare was once again not as horrified by this design as the rest of us. “I think,” she said, “the trapdoors etc. worked well to capture the confusion and conspiring of the kidnap scene.”  But Tom (he of 1000s of operas viewed) was concerned by more than the dramatic effect of the sideways doors: “Being on two different levels would make it very difficult for the singers to hear each other and stay in synch, in the quartet, for example”, he said.  “Well,” Kim suggested, “maybe they could just tap the trap doors for tempo.”

The group agreed that the singers had seemed more off cadence (and quiet) than we’d witnessed ever before in our modest opera experience.

Next up, we moved to another grand symbol in the production, a giant papier mâché moon swing, which the ten-year-old kid nearby explained  as illustrating Gilda’s fanciful feelings for the Duke. Even Clare was not buying this one.  “I could have done without the ridiculous moon,” she said.  “I think,” Erin suggested, “the director just learned how to do papier mâché.”  “Today’s papier mâché moon,” Kim agreed, “was brought to you by Mrs. Smith’s grade 7 art class.”

We were also curious about a rope ladder that led from cage level 2 up to nowhere, and never climbed its way into the plot.  “I guess,” Seth  said (now having completed his 25th opera since joining the TSOS), “that   it was the ‘Stairway to heaven’?”  “Or the lesser known ‘Ladder to heaven’,” Kim helped out. Tom  though, wanted to focus on a large tree, decorated with bright lights, that claimed a significant portion of the cage. “The storm scene wasn’t well lit,” he said, “but at least there was a Christmas tree.”  We all agreed that the gleaming foliage looked remarkably Christmassy; although, this time, none of us could figure out Leyshon’s metaphorical purpose. Our analysis turned next to the  three enormous, sinister (papier mâché?) clowns that sat cage right. During an important musical moment, two of them were signaled by Rigoletto, to move toward the ceiling—leaving the third to remain caged for the rest of the opera.  “I didn’t get closure,” Kim complained, “What did it all mean?”  “I thought it was supposed to be Halloween,” Tom suggested, which at first seemed reasonable to everyone, but then, we fretted, how  did the  Christmas tree fit in?

Well, the truth is  that  TSOS was happy to be mystified by Leyshon’s opaque symbolism, because it served as a refreshing counter-balance for the  other over-obvious metaphors that were pounded into our skulls.   “Next time,” Erin said, after sharing around some aspirin, “she should just put her interpretations in the surtitles: ‘This means Rigoletto’s mad’.”  Kim was “struck by how high-school the whole thing was. I feel like they didn’t give the audience any credit with their blatant symbolism.”  Seth felt bad for Leyshon: “Maybe she didn’t know about the surtitles and so thought she needed to translate everything for us.”  Tom though was less kind: “Did you notice those silly red ribbons that came down while the Duke was ‘having his way’ with Gilda? Do you think that meant she was losing her virginity? Very symbolic.”

Sarah (a veteran of 6 previous operas) was similarly displeased: “It was symbolism that the football players in my Grade 12 English class would have understood.”  “Hey!” Seth replied, “I played football... oh, I see: no wonder it took me more than three seconds to figure out that the white dress equaled chastity.”  However, it was Leyshon’s two-time near-defender, Clare, who was most angered by the symbolism issue...  “I thought the Gilda changing from a white dress to a red one to show us she’s lost her innocence was clichéd and tedious and also quite offensive in the comment it seemed to be making about a woman’s worth being tied to  virginity. Yes, I know that was the prevailing view in the time and place in which the opera was set and that this drove the plot (in that Gilda’s life was ruined, hence Rigoletto’s desire for vengeance) but, (a) we know this from the fact that Rigoletto says that in his duet with Gilda; (b) we could guess all  that without needing a presentation to tell us; and (c) the treatment of nearly every other female character (i.e. not dressing them in contemporary costume) jars with the way in which Gilda’s sexuality is portrayed. Then, it gets worse when she is suddenly in a white dress again in the death scene—as if sacrificing herself has somehow ‘purified’ her.”

Not all of us were convinced that Leyshon had intended to say that Gilda was purifying her former 'sin' by sacrificing herself, but we did agree that the clumsy symbols were painful to witness. “Regardless,” Tom noted, “the director should focus on the drama, not just  symbolism. Did that illuminate the opera for you?”  “No,” we replied, “the metaphors got in the way of the opera: the director was the star here.”

Then we  turned to the costumes, which featured an eclectic gathering of circus performers...

Rob: “If you’re at a party, fine have some clowns, but in the middle of the forest?”
Sarah: “The women looked liked they’d escaped from an 80s punk video.”
Rob: “And that woman with green hair looked mouldy.”
Kim: “Yeah, it was time to get new hair.”

But the costumes weren't  merely awkward, they were also confusing.  Tom noted: “Wasn’t Gilda wearing white when she was abducted, but then was in red when she came out of the Duke’s bedroom? She must have packed a little overnight bag before she was dragged out of her cage.”  Yeah,” Sarah agreed, “I also wondered where she got the red dress from. Does the Duke keep a closet full of red dresses for the women  he deflowers?”

We all agreed that the Leyshon’s policy of metaphor-before-continuity hampered the climax of the story.  “The opera was dramatic in my head,” said  Natasha ( a 6 opera woman), “but the production wasn’t.”  Erin agreed: “When they flashed the lightning, you could see the backstage through the cage wall… so it was like, ‘Hey, I can see the guy turning on the lightning.’”

There was also concern about the dramatic intensity on show when Rigoletto discovered that Sparafucile had inadvertently killed Gilda. Specifically, we were troubled by how casually Rigoletto knocked on the murderer’s door.  “The knocking,” Clare commented, “was not a loud ‘You’ve just murdered my daughter!’ —it was more, “Please don’t answer—the opera has to end soon’.” Meanwhile, Tom was again mesmerized by another of Gilda’s quick changes  - how she switched from the red dress she wore while being murdered to her 'redeemed' white dress for her final death-aria. “When did she get the white dress on?” he asked. “‘Oh, I’m being murdered: I’d better change.’”  With a final sigh of purging, we agreed that our most sturdy feedback for Leyshon was that she had overplayed her symbolism big time -  “She seemed to have large ego and small creativity,” (Seth).  “Yes she certainly  seemed to fancy herself as having a degree in metaphor.” (Kim.)  “She didn’t listen to the music,” Tom added.  “The music tells you everything you need to know. Her direction was ill-conceived and poorly executed—a great disservice to this wonderful opera. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this or any opera has to be done in a traditional way, but this one didn’t illuminate the drama; it trivialized it.”  “In short,” Seth  sighed, “this  was to opera what McDonalds is to fine dining.”
           
So TSOS was  aggravated by Glynis Leyshon’s production but   the official critics disagreed  for the most part. Our duel was clearly on!

In an attempt to parry our thrust, so to speak, Janet Smith of “The Georgia Straight” concedes that “traditionalists may not care for VO’s foray into heavy metal, but,” she cheers, “for those who want to see bold new life pumped into a classic, this is one cage match worth catching.”  Ms. Smith’s attempt to discredit the TSOS though,  by appealing to our traditional authority will not work: except for Tom, our opera experience is mostly  new and we have not yet had our tastes scolded by conventional wisdom. And Tom  himself  is certainly no traditionalist: he enjoys original opera and is open to setting the classics in any world that an opera company can conceive. All he asks is that the opera—and not the poetic interpretations of its director—comes first.  Ms. Smith however thought the cage-design set ....“aside from a few clumsy exits and entrances... deeply symbolic and brutally surreal.”

If  that was deep symbolism then we shudder to think what would qualify as shallow. TSOS 15, Professional Critics  -  'Love.'

“The Left Coast” meanwhile, thought that “the production was outstanding. The sets were so frightening in the way that they caged in the performers, especially Rigoletto and his lovely daughter Gilda, whose truly amazing voice brought tears to our eyes on a number of occasions.”

Frightening? Really? To be scared by a metaphor seems to us to be unreasonably cowardly.  TSOS -30, Professional Critics -  Still 'Love'.

David Gordon Duke, in The Vancouver Sun suggests that “the circus conceit, strongest in the busy but brilliant first scene, peters out as the work progresses, leaving us with a more or less conventional staging in an unconventional set. But by then we’ve come to embrace the stylized look of the production and shifted our focus to other, less ephemeral concerns.”

Mr. Duke must have incredible concentration: to suspend one’s disbelief past that exhaustively-metaphored cage seems to us to be like  maintaining focus while talking to someone with no head. TSOS - 40 , Critics  - Guess what? 'Love.'

And then, John Jane of “Review Vancouver” asks: “What... became of the lecherous Duke? Like many in the audience, he went home happy.”

Yes, we too were happy to leave the Queen Elizabeth theatre that night! TSOS - Game, Critics  -  Nil!

Finally, the critics’ only hope, Bernard Jacobson of “Seen and Heard International” seems to have been watching the same contrived mess as TSOS, when he notes that the “imaginative treatment degenerated at times into the most infantile literalism”. Sing it, Bernard! But, sadly, he softens in his conclusion: “I could happily have done without the deceased Gilda’s ghostly departure from the scene – at least she wasn’t air-lifted to Heaven, as I feared for a moment might happen – but all in all, Verdi’s sure-fire thriller duly thrilled, and an Aristotelian blend of pity and terror prevailed over whatever reservations I had about Ms. Leyshon’s production.” Mr. Jacobson’s ability to be thrilled in spite of Ms. Leyshon’s blocking of Verdi is a credit to his abilities in opera appreciation.

Deuce! Well, nearly -  the tennis scoring is  a metaphor, right?

But TSOS felt overwhelmingly condescended to  by the assertive symbology, as Robert Langdon in The Da Vinci Code might have put it. And  the prevailing reviews forced us to wonder if Vancouver opera critics are fearful of  questioning the artistic stylings of anything that calls itself opera. Perhaps there is so little opera in Vancouver,  that the critics (save for Mr. Jacobson) don’t realize that, within operatic achievement, there is always variety: sometimes things are done well, sometimes they're not. Tom and Seth would like to offer this resounding response from TSOS members who, while varying in our experience of opera, were not wavering in their analysis: hey, this was just badly done opera. Game, Set and Metaphor, we think.

Tom and Seth


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