Under dramatically dissonant orchestral sounds, the curtain rises on Rigoletto, Verdi’s 17th opera, in the Amsterdam Music Theatre. Instead of the ballroom in the ducal palace from the libretto, we find ourselves in a frigid room in a psychiatric clinic. In this 2017 revival, director Damiano Michieletto presents Rigoletto as a mental wreck, broken by grief and guilt. The hunchbacked jester who inadvertently drives his daughter to death from obsessive paternal love, relives the tragic events of his life in flashbacks.
Ghost from the past
In principle, there is something to be said for this, but it makes the story difficult to understand and gets in the way of empathy with the characters. Rigoletto is on stage from beginning to end, even when he is not taking part in the action. The direction zooms in on his over protective relationship with his daughter Gilda, whom he wants to shield from the lust of the Duke. That precisely because of this he surrenders her to the whims of his employer gives the theme the dimension of a Greek tragedy, which, however, does not come to life.
Gilda is also portrayed as a child: in her floral dress with oversized mask, she constantly wanders about silently, like a ghost from the past. It is a pity that Michieletto exploits this beautiful find a bit too emphatically: in film footage, we see the child desperately tugging at the bars in front of her window and banging on closed doors. The Duke’s servants initially wearing masks as well (with the face of the Duke), however, does make it palpable how alone Rigoletto is in the face of those around him.
Banal tunes versus dramatic arioso
The scene in the third act in which Gilda, instigated by her father, watches from the street how the Duke courts Maddalena (mezzo-soprano Maya Gour) with the same flattery he used to seduce her earlier, is highly confusing. In his famous aria ‘La donne è mobile’ the Duke not only dances lecherously with Maddalena but also with Gilda, only to then repel her boorishly. It is inconceivable that after this experience she still sacrifices her life for this cocksure horndog.
Musically, Verdi treats us to a varied score, in which the Duke and his entourage deliver banal tunes, while Gilda and Rigoletto sing dramatic parts in an arioso that flows organically into the following music. In fast, folky dances, conductor Antonio Fogliani unfortunately does not always manage to get the musicians of the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra in line, while the connection with DNO’s male choir is regularly out of sync as well. The singers do manage to impressively evoke the roar of an overwhelming storm at the end.
Good cast
The cast is of a high standard. Dutch bass-baritone Frederik Bergman has an imposing voice, but the curse he casts on the Duke and Rigoletto as Count Monterone comes somewhat out of the blue due to the strong focus on the father-daughter theme. In contrast, Romanian bass Alexander Köpeczi shines in his role as Sparafucile, the hitman whom Rigoletto hires to kill the Duke, but who ends up cutting Gilda’s throat.
Mexican-American tenor René Barbera does not have the physique of the handsome Adonis Gilda sees in him, but he has a killer voice and his mannerisms perfectly capture the Duke’s smug character. Russian baritone Roman Burdenko impresses as the tormented Rigoletto, hobbling across the stage as a miserable heap or clinging to his bed in exasperation.
The true star of the evening is the Tatar soprano Aigul Khismatullina. With her beautifully clear and agile voice she is the only one who, despite the sterile setting, occasionally manages to strike a chord.
Seen and heard 2 September 2024 in Amsterdam Music Theatre, the opera runs through 29 September