Terrifically strong principals in Irish National Opera’s new Rigoletto

Verdi’s Rigoletto, an opera famous for its lively tunes and vibrant energy, is anything but a straightforward, cheerful affair. Beneath the surface of its boisterous melodies lies a narrative drenched in tragedy, and under Julien Chavaz' direction, Irish National Opera brings this stark contrast to life in a lively production.

Chavaz, with a focus on “bodies in motion”, injects his production with a frenetic energy that never loses its entertainment value. The choreography, crafted by Nicole Morel, is a whirlwind of movement, injecting a sense of urgency and emotional intensity that complements the drama unfolding onstage. The pace is relentless, but it’s in the more intimate moments that the true emotional depth of the opera comes to the fore, particularly through the breathtaking vocal performances of the principal cast. 

The staging creates a timeless, dreamlike world, where past and present collide in a seamless blend. Chavaz conjures up a universe that exists only within the confines of the theatre, a space that is as fluid as the costumes of its characters. This sense of ambiguity is reflected in Jean-Jacques Delmotte’s eclectic costume designs, which offer a mix of old-world and modern influences: courtiers don ruffs and doublets in hues matching the tapestry backdrop, while the Duke sports a leather jacket and undone bow tie. Gilda’s simple frock contrasts with Rigoletto’s court jester attire and lurid yellow buckle shoes. The effect is puzzling and I’m not convinced it answers Chavaz's desire to elevate these characters into the symbolic representations of the human condition.

Jamie Vartan’s set designs are reasonably effective as a backdrop to the unfolding drama. A wooden structure dotted with coloured lights frames the action, subtly mirroring the operas' emotional tides. Rigoletto’s home is cleverly realised, as are the towering gates which symbolically remain shut until the Duke slyly makes his way in to see Gilda. Sparafucile and Maddalena’s place is cleverly reimagined as a wine bar with high stools and an upstairs bedroom, providing the unlikely setting for the dark deed that will be done. 

Baritone Michael Chioldi made for a terrifically engaging Rigoletto. Physically dominating the stage, his hunchbacked, limping buffoon both managed to repel and inspire pity. Vocally he also packed a punch; there were dark colours to his middle voice while there was a distinct rasp of anger as he bemoaned Gilda’s fate in Act 2. His impassioned singing as he beheld his dying daughter was deeply moving.

Every bit Chioldi's match was Soraya Mafi as Gilda. Possessing a voice of angelic purity, she unfurled the gossamer threads of her arias with grace and delicacy, her soprano silkily seductive and there was an effortless beauty as she reached up to those scarily high top notes. The character is a bit one-dimensional but even here Mafi managed to inject a genuine girlish enthusiasm on listening to the Duke’s amorous declarations while there was something delightfully amusing in how she tried to shoo her lover out the door as she suspected the imminent arrival of her father. 

Proving that all good things come in threes, tenor Bekhzod Davronov made for an excellent Duke of Mantua. Vocally, he possesses a clear, bright voice with a laser hot vibrato. Verdi sets the tessitura for the Duke punishingly high at times but Davronov gave the impression that he could always give more. He was touching in his love duets with Gilda, showing a suave lyricism when needed. The way he insolently stared at the audience for his famous “La donna è mobile” was very waggish. Perhaps Davronov made his Duke more of a charming if dissolute playboy, but rather low on the menace factor. True, Monterone is punished but the Duke seemed rather detached from anything brutal.

Julian Close made for a convincing Sparafucile. Dressed in a pin-striped suit and black polo top, his stentorian voice rang out clearly with menace as he casually discussed murdering his client’s target for money. His sister Maddalena was sung with great panache by Niamh O’Sullivan and the Act 3 quartet was done with aplomb. The Irish National Opera Chorus brimmed with gusto; they sang lustily and danced with tremendous energy.

In the pit was conductor Fergus Sheil. With well-judged tempi and pacing he allowed the music to match the action on stage. There were some infelicities in intonation on the trumpets at the very start of the prelude to Act 1 which will doubtless be corrected in future performances.