As well as fully staging each year three rare or forgotten works at the National Opera House, Wexford Festival Opera also has a series called “ShortWorks”, matinee shows held at the Clayton Whites Hotel that include either rare one act operas or shortened versions of standard length, mainstream operas. Even in a festival like Wexford’s, you cannot resist the attraction of a beloved opera that you know by heart. These shows have generally only piano accompaniment. Surtitles are provided, but don’t sit at the far sides of the room or you won’t be able to see them!
Rigoletto was one of the three short works this year. A common denominator of the Festival is the use of high calibre international singers and creatives, no matter the scale of the show (the main operas and the short works often share the same singers), and Rigoletto was no exception, with an impressive concentration of young and very promising talents.
The staging was sparse, with a heavy green velvet curtain in the background. Costumes were equally simple, but they also served a metaphorical purpose: all of the characters (including the women) wore a modern black suit, except Gilda, who wore a white nightgown. As director Roberto Recchia explains in his programme note, “everyone, except Gilda, has a dark soul. No one is good; [...] not even Rigoletto”. All of the characters, again except Gilda, wore long-nosed Venetian masks. While in the scene of Gilda’s kidnapping the courtiers, according to the libretto, actually wear a mask, here its use is extended to most of the show, a clear reference to everyone’s duplicity. The lighting design was appropriately dark, with strong flashes of light during the stormy night scene.
The plot of the opera, especially its ending, are unfathomably tragic, and its moral reading is not that clear-cut. A first interpretation could point at the religious belief that justice does not belong to this world (the Duke never pays for his actions). But is Rigoletto the victim, or the executioner? He is infinitely loving and caring towards his own daughter, Gilda, but cynical and careless towards everybody else. Maybe the meaning of this story is that true love and kindness cannot be selective, but must be universal; or more, a bit like in Alfano’s Risurrezione seen the night before, no good can ever come from a bad action, and a wrongdoing always has an unpredictable ripple effect.