Metropolitan Opera, New York, 8 October 2024
Giuseppe Verdi: Rigoletto
After a monumental battle with the Austrian censors, Verdi premiered Rigoletto, probably his greatest work, in 1851. He didn’t know then – or did he? – that the history of opera would be divided into two parts: before and after that 11th March 1851 in Venice. Musically, the line between arias and recitatives was blurred to an extreme, marking a huge step in the evolution of Italian opera. In the first scene alone, there is an offstage orchestra, an aria (ballata) for the Duke, a short duet accompanied by a minuet followed by a perigordino, an ensemble and a grand finale with chorus, all presented as a continuous piece of music without any significant recitatives to interrupt the flow, something completely unprecedented in Italian opera, and something that only Mozart had managed to get right in the endings of Don Giovanni and Die Zauberflöte some sixty years earlier.
Just as a sturdy house needs a solid groundwork, or a football team needs a strong defence to become a winning team, a great performance of Rigoletto needs to be anchored by a solid foundation, this provided by Italian conductor Pier Giorgio Morandi. It’s rare for a performance to feel almost entirely held together by its conductor, from the orchestra to the soloists, but Morandi achieves just that. A disciple of conductors of the stature of Riccardo Muti, Leonard Bernstein and Seiji Ozawa, Morandi knows the work perfectly. His understanding of Rigoletto is a perfect balance between calculated precision and emotional depth. His cues to the orchestra were as precise as possible, and his rapport with the singers was evident from the moment the opera began.
The vocal highlight of the evening was undoubtedly Nadine Sierra’s Gilda. It would be easy to praise her high notes or vocal acrobatics, but that was the least important aspect of her portrayal of Rigoletto’s overprotected daughter. Every note and movement she made conveyed curiosity in Act I, confusion in Act II and determination in Act III. She made the role look easy, which is one of the most difficult things for an opera singer to do, and the way her voice cut through the orchestra was like a hot knife through butter. Her acting skills moved the audience and her chemistry with Rigoletto and the Duke was remarkable.
Hawaiian baritone Quinn Kelsey portrayed Rigoletto, and while his voice is big and strong enough to effortlessly fill a house the size of the Metropolitan Opera, his interpretation of the character was lacking in some aspects and even monotonous at times. However, this may not be entirely Mr. Kelsey’s fault. Bartlett Sher’s production changes Rigoletto from a hunchbacked jester to an upright clown, a significant downgrade from the composer’s original intentions for the character. Verdi created Rigoletto as a deformed court jester, full of resentment against a society that belittles him for his looks and actions. Sher’s clown has no reason to resent society: he’s not deformed enough, society doesn’t seem to hate him enough and he doesn’t look or dress too different from the Duke or his courtiers, apart from some face paint. While it’s true that Mr. Kelsey could have done more to give the role more character, the production’s interpretation of the character was incredibly far off the mark as well.
Stephen Costello was an adequate Duke of Mantua; without doing anything too flashy or showy, he got the role right and complemented Mr. Kelsey and Ms. Sierra convincingly. His ‘Parmi veder’ was accurate and his ‘La donna è mobile’ sung appropriately. Soloman Howard’s Sparafucile was imposing and striking in presence and voice whenever he was on stage and J’Nai Bridges’ Maddalena effectively rounded out a great all-American principal cast.
This production, led by American director Bartlett Sher, has been at the Met since December 2021, replacing the previous controversial Las Vegas staging. It is at best a hit or miss; while the revolving platform generally works well, especially in Act I, the production is full of superfluous distractions and unreasonable decisions, such as an unnecessarily loud scuffle between the Count of Ceprano and his wife in the first scene, Gilda’s presence in the last part of ‘Cortigiani’, Gilda entering and leaving Sparafucile’s house in a ghostly manner before being murdered and many more unwarranted liberties. In my opinion, a definite downgrade from Michael Mayer’s previous production.
