SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Verdi, Rigoletto: Soloists, chorus and orchestra of the Royal Opera House. Conductor: Dan Ettinger. Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 11.10.2010 (JPr)

 

Dmitri Hvorostovsky as Rigoletto

Picture copyright: The Royal Opera / Johann Persson

Gilda was one of the roles that made Dame Joan Sutherland into 'La Stupenda'; so it was only fitting that the news of her sad death on the afternoon of this performance of Rigoletto was marked by dedicating the evening to her. The style and quality of her dramatic coloratura soprano -on much recent evidence - is sadly a species of singer that (along with the contralto) is greatly endangered, if not extinct. I am sure the cast of this revival of David McVicar's 2001 production could not fail to be affected by the passing of someone so important in Covent Garden history. I am also sure it could only have helped to intensify the portrayal of the already heightened emotions in this opera. Rigoletto is chock-full of dysfunctional characters, desire, fatherly love, revenge, betrayal and tragedy.

What McVicar's production does not do is to reflect Verdi's music to show us a society with an outward veneer of respectability but with a seething, sordid, underbelly. McVicar and as revived here by Leah Hausman, gives a full-frontal (in every meaning of the phrase) depiction of a sexually rampant world on the brink of collapse. It was this dichotomy that Verdi was exploring and McVicar ignores. When the Duke of Mantua has so many women (and possibly men) to treat in whatever way he wants,  why would he need to roam around in the disguise of a penniless student to 'pick up' other girls?

I do not apologise for mentioning here the classic Billy Wilder 1959 film Some Like It Hot where some hoodlums are asked where they were when the St. Valentine's massacre was carried out and their alibi is 'We wuz wit you, boss ... at Rigoletto's'. Feuding mobsters are in fact having a meeting a Florida hotel to sort out who is the 'boss' and give themselves an air of 'respectability' by calling it a convention of the 'Friends of Italian Opera'!

Tanya McCallin's medieval costumes are of a certain place and time but Michael Vale's distressed Perspex and steel facade of a warehouse could be anywhere, anytime. Add the odd chair or some wire fencing here and a bit of corrugated iron there and it works well to provide a realistic backdrop to the unfolding drama. If they want to,  then it all allows the cast to just stand about and sing, which is something this present cast is very good at. The chorus having returned from the Royal Opera's sojourn in Japan were on top form - and expanded with extra chorus members and actors - everyone threw themselves into their Act I lusty orgiastic cavortings with great enthusiasm. Unfortunately the principals seemed less well-rehearsed and at one point Lukas Jakobski's Count Ceprano wandered aimlessly around the stage in Act II without being given something to do to react to the goings-on. This excellent young singer has such a physical presence that eyes must have been drawn to him, and so, distracting the audience's attention from the other action.

When I saw this revival in 2009 Rigoletto was sung by the veteran Leo Nucci, he clearly had no intention of following McVicar's original direction and gave us 'his' take on Rigoletto, in mostly what appeared to a costume he must have brought with him. I have only known Dmitri Hvorostovsky from his rather stoic 'father figures' in Verdi and Tchaikovsky, all rather dramatically vacant but always sung with his trademark eloquent, smooth baritone. I had not expected him to command the stage so wonderfully and take the risks with his voice that made his big Act II aria 'Cortigiani, vil razza dannata' so memorable. Through to his final despairing cry over the fate of his daughter, Gilda, Hvorostovsky most affectingly conveyed Rigoletto's rage and despair. Creeping around with his mismatched sticks and in black leather he appeared like a large beetle. Later in the more intimate scenes with his daughter he exuded the pathos of another Victor Hugo hunchback - the one from Notre Dame! Throughout, Hvorostovsky may have been physically unrecognisable; however, vocally it could have been no one other than him.

The rest of a worthy cast were not in the same league as him unfortunately. Patrizia Ciofi, I understand, has sung Gilda well in the past and she is clearly a fine dramatic soprano in the making but she now lacks the freedom in her high notes Gilda demands. She gave a fairly tentative rendition of 'Caro nome' but was at her best in the final scene as she begged forgiveness from her father.

I have thought deeply about what to say about Wookyung Kim’s Duke and I cannot ignore the fact that, for me, he was miscast. He has a potentially fine, elegant and well-schooled tenor voice but he completely lacked any of the charisma the Duke needs. His 'Questa o quella' was taken rather carefully and until after his 'La donna è mobile' all his secure top notes were approached with great caution. Only after this famous Act III aria did Kim seem to relax into the role.

Raymond Aceto menacingly plumbed the black depths of his bass voice as an imposing Sparafucile. Daniela Innamorati sang Maddalena but I wondered why an Italian had to be imported and no British mezzo could be found: she looked strikingly beautiful but her voice was unremarkable. The few British singers in the cast made the most of their small roles; Michael Druiett was a stalwart Monterone and Iain Paton, Louise Armit and Elizabeth Sikora contributed very serviceable vignettes as Borsa, Countess Ceprano and Gilda’s nurse.

In the pit the young Israeli conductor, Dan Ettinger, made a commendable Royal Opera debut. Despite fairly brisk tempi, he coaxed vividly etched phrases from his committed orchestra and gave us a viscerally intense reading that provided excitement even when the singing was not all it could have been. However, there was a certain rawness to it all and it lacked some subtlety and the opportunity Verdi's music needs to be allowed to breathe and tell its own story.

Jim Pritchard