Jonathan Miller’s Rigoletto, Godfather of opera productions, returns to ENO

You must have reached a certain age to remember the opening run of this Rigoletto ‘as if it were yesterday’. Well, 42 years on and several re-viewings (and reviewings) since, I do. Frequently aped but seldom eclipsed, Jonathan Miller’s mafioso retelling was a game-changer. Among other things it gave the UK a novel taste (for its time) of literate Regietheater and with its crowd-pleasing scatter-gun of Godfather references it made operagoers an offer they couldn’t refuse. Today, only the lumbering need for two long intervals (Patrick Robertson and Rosemary Vercoe’s substantial sets take some shifting) betray its age. 

The production’s 14th revival has been expertly helmed by its late director’s faithful adjutant Elaine Tyler-Hall, her vibrantly busy stage thrillingly populated by a sumptuous, seasoned ENO Chorus on prime form – there to remind us all (including English National Opera’s board of directors and their overseers at Arts Council England) that stagecraft is just as crucial as vocal skills for an opera chorus. Factor in a glorious orchestral sweep courtesy of an ENO Orchestra clearly inspired by Richard Farnes, a Verdian of the first rank and the leading British opera conductor of his generation (probably), and the stars were aligned. 

This latest incarnation of this house favourite was not without its problems, however. The rich-toned American baritone Weston Hurt impressed in the title role with his detailed exploration of the biter bitten – a forlorn figure whose vengeful plans backfire with tragic consequences – but his fellow-principals were a variable pair. Robyn Allegra Parton was a noble Gilda, her delightful coloratura a pleasure to hear, but unfortunately the middle register lacked ballast and intonation grew wispy whenever a fuller-bodied sound was required. Her death scene, however, was splendidly achieved. As for the Chinese tenor Yongzhoo Yu, who sang the amoral Duke of Mantua, his delivery was forthright and assertive… but oh my, the copious sobs! 

The evening’s most vivid contribution came from bass William Thomas as the assassin Sparafucile. As well as sounding balefully imposing, the singer’s outstanding stagecraft allowed him to command the action even when only half-lit, inhabiting a forbidding stillness whence bled a barely-contained threat of violence. As well as Amy Holyland as Maddalena, Thomas Elwin as Borsa and David Kempster as Monterone, all the opera’s minor roles were superbly taken by a largely British ensemble. 

Diction was very strong, so it’s a relief that James Fenton’s singable translation continues to thrill after all these years. Then there were Miller’s trademark visual felicities. Most of these still gave pleasure even though on opening night only the second part of his legendary jukebox double made its mark. I’m sure that tiny blip will correct itself over the course of what promises to be an entertaining few weeks of treachery, misery and death.