Verdi : Rigoletto
Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir
London Symphony Orchestra
Gianandrea Noseda
Going to an outdoor performance in any major town in France on the 14th of July is always going to be a bit of a gamble, because there isn't one location that doesn't have its fireworks display, and one or more street parties. Effectively, tonight, the first fifteen minutes of the performance were peppered with the snap, crackle and pop of the town's fireworks, and that's almost certainly the reason the performance was scheduled 30 minutes later than usual, because it was easier to put up with the bangs during the relatively noisy first scene of Rigoletto than it would have been during the much more intimate second scene. As for the parties, we blessedly heard not a peep, and so were quickly able to settle down and forget about the world outside the courtyard of Aix's Archbishop's Palace.
Robert Carsen's productions tend to circle around the same themes, almost regardless of the actual work he's staging. I have to give him the credit of honestly finding those themes in the works he selects, because much of the time I like his productions, and when I haven't, it's rarely been grounds for total rejection, just minor irritation. Indeed, it's typical of his work that there is a fairly even mix of genuinely good ideas, and completely superfluous ones. At any rate, he likes to discombobulate his audiences by completely re-setting his operas, but letting us decide why for ourselves. This Rigoletto was a case in point, it's set under a big top. Rigoletto is not just a jester, but an actual whiteface clown in a black Pierrot outfit. Conditions at the Théâtre de l'Archevêché are such that single-set productions are almost essential, especially if the set is going to be one of any degree of complexity. Shoe-horning Rigoletto's distinct scene changes into a circus was a bit of a tall order - the trailer for his house passed reasonably well, but Sparafucile's tavern left something to be desired. However, artifice, deception, self-deception, these are common ideas in Carsen's work, and were evident from the outset here.
It's my opinion that we were viewing the world through Rigoletto's mind. He's a buffoon, and a performer, so the court is a circus peopled with dissolute layabouts and whores, and if the Duke isn't explicitly the Ringmaster, his red velvet jacket in the opening scene certainly suggests it. More interesting is the relationship between Rigoletto and Gilda. When we first see her, she's clearly being infantilised by her father, trapped in a shabby, chintzy bedroom, in a demure blue frock, ankle socks and mary janes, with a diary in which she confides religiously, and a teddy bear. However, she's evidently in revolt against this, uncomfortable with her father's smothering affection, and the fact that neither is particularly familiar with the other is driven home very clearly. From start to finish, there's an almost complete lack of communication between the two. They're at their closest in the first duet, and drift further and further apart as events unfold. It's a strong depiction, and a successful one, but it relegates pretty much everyone else to the background, merely pawns manoeuvering around the pivotal father-daughter non-relationship.
Musically, the evening was driven with tremendous aplomb by Gianandrea Noseda at the head of an outstanding London Symphony Orchestra. It has to be noted that acoustics at the Archevêché are a little particular. It is, essentially, an outdoor theatre, even though there is now a permanent, covered stage, and they (fairly) recently enlarged the orchestra pit so that it could take a more-or-less standard 19th century opera orchestra - maybe 70-odd players or thereabouts. However, always, when the evening starts, although everything's perfectly clear, the sound seems a little distant, and it tends to remain slightly flat. The stage is shallow, and possesses next to nothing in the way of wing space. When Noseda let the orchestra rip, none of the soloists except the Sparafucile could be heard comfortably over it, and I suspect that would not be the case in a regular opera house. The conductor had the good judgement to hold back on such moments for maximum effect - the start of "Cortiggiani!" for example, magnificently articulated by the strings and thrillingly paced. It didn't matter that you couldn't quite hear George Gagnidze distinctly enough, the emotion was there in force, and he was impressive enough on his own merits elsewhere. There was real magic in quieter moments too, such as Timothy Hugh's solo cello in the Rigoletto/Sparacufile encounter at the start of the second scene.
Irina Lungo was the Gilda, good coloratura, a shade heavier in timbre than often heard in this part (she's been singing a lot of Violettas lately, according to her bio), and a tendency at the start of the evening to come in very slightly under pitch on the top notes, but that sorted itself out eventually. Her duets with Rigoletto were excellent, very clear on the complex emotional front, but her chemistry, both vocal and dramatic, with the Duke was a little less successful. Arturo Chacón-Cruz was a particularly brash Duke, but as I mentioned earlier, almost all the other parts were pretty superficial compared to the central pair of Rigoletto and Gilda. His voice is good, if a trifle dry for my taste, but there was a lot of loud singing that was only just shy of bellowing and he won't last long if he can't tone it down a bit, which would be a pity. Josè Maria Lo Monaco had the most trouble making herself heard, as Maddalena (though she looked sensational), but I was seriously impressed with Gábor Bretz's lean, mean and sonorous Sparafucile, and of the comprimario roles, Jean-Luc Ballestra also stood out as Marullo.
A passable production, a good vocal plateau and a sensational orchestra made for as satisfactory a Rigoletto as I've seen in a while.
[No official dates until October, but there will probably be something going on somewhere next month]
[ETA : Next - 11 September]
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