Oliver Mears’ innovative and thought-provoking production of Verdi’s Rigoletto, first seen in 2021, casts an intriguing spotlight on a work that can too easily be taken for granted. Setting the first two acts in a non-naturalistic, allegorical space (designed by Simon Lima Holdsworth) in which the court of the Duke of Mantua is distinguishable from Rigoletto’s house only by his sumptuous murals – he may be a cad but with Titian on his walls he has good taste – Mears blurs the boundaries between artifice and reality.
Iconography is essential to his conception. The action opens with a coup de théâtre: a tableau vivant based on Caravaggio’s Martyrdom of St Matthew, stunningly lit by Fabiana Piccioli. The martyr is Gilda, sacrificed on the altar of her father Rigoletto’s thirst for vengeance. Equally central is play-acting: the courtiers are modern-day partygoers masquerading in Renaissance gear (imaginatively designed by Ilona Karas).
It’s a psychologically probing production too. Rigoletto goes shockingly beyond the call of duty as the Duke’s jester in gleefully encouraging his philandering – except where his daughter is concerned, of course. In some productions it’s suggested that the Duke for once, if only briefly, genuinely falls in love with Gilda. Here it’s clear that Gilda is only special for the Duke in that he has not yet conquered her. As soon as he has, he’s on to the next one. It’s a reading that suited Stefan Pop’s Duke, sounding below par and disengaged, all too well.
The Rigoletto of the Mongolian baritone Amartuvshin Enkhbat, by contrast, was searingly powerful, both in his thunderous calls for vengeance and in his cries of despair. Pretty Yende brought a distinctive vocal colouring to the role of Gilda and a pinging top E flat (not actually written by Verdi) to the end of the duet that brings the curtain down on Act II, even if she doesn’t have quite the level of accomplishment demonstrated by Lisette Oropesa the first time round. Gianluca Buratto was a suitably sinister Sparafucile and Ramona Zaharia made a strong impression as his inebriated sister Maddalena.
The show as yet lacks the exemplary acting and dramaturgical tautness that were such a feature of the 2021 production: there were too many dead spots suggesting that revival director Danielle Urbas was given insufficient rehearsal time. Nor was Julia Jones, for all the vigour and attention to detail of her conducting, able to replicate the spine-tingling propulsion of Antonio Pappano.
