Given the financial uncertainties still facing Welsh National Opera, it was reassuring to hear compelling music making in the penultimate performance of its autumn staging of Rigoletto in Southampton. Musical standards were once again exceptionally high with some outstanding singing from the principals and much sensitive support from the orchestra, whose players jettisoned their usual dress code for “Save WNO” T-shirts.
Directed by the company’s incoming joint-CEO Adele Thomas, this was a no-holds-barred new production, striking for its uncompromisingly savage portrayal of decadence and moral bankruptcy at the Duke of Mantua’s court (It's little wonder that the premiere at La Fenice in 1851 only took place after Verdi had altered named characters to avoid censorship by the Venetian authorities). Thomas chose to interpret this tale of seduction, betrayal and murder through the lens of Jacobean tragedy, along with allusions to 18th century sleaze satirised by William Hogarth, via an array of eye-catching costumes. Contemporary abuses of power and privilege were a further creative stimulus with unambiguous finger pointing at political corruption and Partygate carry-ons gloriously lampooned by Cold War Steve and pointedly echoed here in a singular reference to a roasted pig. The antics of the courtiers when kidnapping Rigoletto’s only child could have been the Bullingdon Club on a drunken rampage.
At times this exposé of a debauched regime felt over-egged, with the bare-knuckle fight and simulated sex in the opening scene, if not gratuitous, a major distraction. Its wantonness was so noisy as to almost drown the orchestra. Annemarie Woods’s starkly economical staging comprised a huge table, an apartment with clerestory windows and a gaudy mirror-lined boudoir for Sparafucile that looked more like a bell tent belonging to a local scout group. And her century-hopping costumes were a confusion of Tudor period courtiers in ruffs, tights and wigs, a Farthingale for Maddalena and a plus size frock for Gilda that caused her to clump around the stage just to stay upright. Presumably the variety of attire was designed to indicate the universality of society’s moral shortcomings across history.
Notwithstanding any reservations, there were confident performances from a well-matched Daniel Luis de Vicente as the cursed court jester Rigoletto and Soraya Mafi as his virginal daughter Gilda. If the chemistry between the two took a while to develop, Mafi’s pure-toned soprano was the real thing, pitch perfect and characterful in “Caro nome” and supplying a silky legato to a heartfelt “Tutte le feste al tempio”. No less involving was de Vicente, whose rich baritone conveyed both Rigoletto’s torment and tenderness. His vow of vengeance on the Duke of Mantua was a dramatic highpoint, palpable emotions given due resonance. His nobility was in stark contrast to Raffaele Abete’s charmless and foppish Duke, but this late substitute for the advertised Leonardo Capalbo had a ringing tenor and pulled off his big moments with ease.
Nathanaël Tavernier’s Sparafucile was more a dandy than an assassin and his sister Maddalena, persuasively sung by Alyana Abramova, bore a regal presence suggestive of a courtesan. She certainly added lustrous tone to Act Three’s celebrated quartet. Among the lesser roles, Paul Carey Jones was a charismatic Monterone and Sian Meinir’s Giovanna was a subtly duplicitous guardian to Gilda.
In the pit Pietro Rizzo drew intermittent excitement from the score but secured finely detailed and well-balanced playing with instrumental lines elegantly shaped. As ever the WNO chorus were on tremendous form. Altogether, an evening of mixed rewards, but musically assured. If there was one undoubted star of the evening it was Verdi’s imperishable music.
