Though mean-spirited, the jester Rigoletto — Verdi’s hapless, vengeful hunchback — wins our hearts as the outsider whom a heartless world so often abuses. “Rigoletto” remains an opera reminding us where to direct our sympathies when authoritarianism remains the alternative.
That is not as straightforward as it sounds. Los Angeles Opera has struggled with one insufficient “Rigoletto” production after another, imported or homegrown. Singers and conductors have been counted on to save the show, and sometimes they have. Last time around, the most interesting contribution was, however scrappy, conductor Matthew Aucoin’s idea-rich interpretation.
This time, at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Saturday night, L.A. Opera unveiled a violent, politically disquieting production in which a tortured jester faces mob rule. If an out-of-control clown gives you the creeps, check out the crowd in cartoon masks meant to disguise evil.
Tomer Zvulun, who heads Atlanta Opera, where this production got its start, begins his director’s note in the program book with a quote from Alfred Hitchcock: “There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it.” Baritone Quinn Kelsey’s gripping “Rigoletto,” as good as it gets these days, is all bang. The men of the L.A. Opera chorus are terror personified.
This is the third time L.A. Opera has turned to cinema for help with “Rigoletto,” on the surface a spellbinding drama. L.A. Opera in its advertisements likens it to film noir.
For the company’s first go with the opera in 1993, it approached Peter Medak, who unfortunately bowed out to make the thriller “Romeo Is Bleeding.” Seven years later, L.A. Opera went Hollywood. Film director Bruce Beresford updated the ducal court of Mantua to present-day Beverly Hills and Venice Beach. But neither cast nor company were up to making it work.
Zvulun, who turns to fascist Italy in the years before World War II, counts as his inspirations the films by Federico Fellini and Luis Buñuel. That doesn’t do much either. Resources once more fall short. The turntable set, which evokes little of anything, was created for Wolf Trap Opera in Washington, D.C. The chorus’ cruelty is fitting, but masks are by now a commonplace movie trope for evil.
The Duke, a philanderer, has far less interest in mob rule than in chasing skirts. The party scenes with leggy dancers, meant to be decadent, are inoffensive. But there is violence. Knives are convincing. Zvulun introduces mayhem and murder. Two ghosts make appearances for goosebumps.
The lighting (Robert Wierzel) is full-bore noir. The set is mostly dark with characters starkly spotlighted giving the impression of a black-and-white film. A storm scene, one of Verdi’s great innovations, is so strongly revealed that it has no need for the added strobe effects.
The lighting, in fact, is key. It highlights both the strength of the cast and some of the weaknesses of the production.
Kelsey, who has spent a good deal of his career impressively singing the title role around the world, is here weighed down by his costume. Somehow among the elegantly dressed in fascist Italy society, there is this guy in a bright red clown suit.His outsider status as a hunchback is instead a costume that presumably serves as scarlet letter or Star of David.
Still, the old-fashioned nature of this “Rigoletto,” along with an excellent cast, saves it. So does James Conlon’s conducting, which supplies humanity to Kelsey’s fuming anger. It takes a lot to love Rigoletto, who keeps his daughter, Gilda, locked up, although she, of course, sneaks out and falls for the count.
Kelsey may lack the warmth of some of the great Rigolettos of the past, but there may not have been any more powerful. The visceral energy of the anger of this guy in a clown suit is the stuff of nightmares. Rigoletto orchestrates his own downfall and Kelsey’s horror at the end feels like the unleashing of a new breed of violence.
Lisette Oropesa is back as Gilda. In the previous L.A. Opera production she began blandly only to be awakened by the raw meaning of love, singing very prettily all the while. She does so again, the blandness this time all the more superficial and ensuing depth equally greater, the prettiness richer and mattering more. She romanticizes her lover, the Duke disguised as a student, looking in her mirror while applying makeup, as though “Caro Nome” were “I Feel Pretty.”
But her duets with Rigoletto are pregnant with emotion, and she is stunningly angelic in the end.
As the Duke, René Barbera, a light and agreeably lyric tenor, goes his own way. He is overpowered by the chorus, oblivious to all but pleasure. There are many strong voices, notably Peixin Chen, the regal bass who plays the assassin Sparafucile, and Sarah Saturnino, a seductive mezzo-soprano who is his sister, Maddelena, who lures the Duke.
This “Rigoletto” closes Conlon’s penultimate season as L.A. Opera music director. Seemingly born to conduct Verdi, Conlon can whip up as much dramatic excitement as anyone might need. But he has in recent years taken a more expansive approach to Verdi. His restraint and reserved pacing classes up some of the cheaper tricks of the production and, more important, gives perspective to it most powerful ones. Listening to the elegant orchestra, the clown suit didn’t seem so bad.
After 32 years of failed attempts, L.A. Opera has finally moved the “Rigoletto” needle in the right direction.
The post Fascism and a clown suit: L.A. Opera’s gripping new ‘Rigoletto’ appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
