By d.salazar@latinospost.com (staff@latinospost.com) | First Posted: Jan 29, 2013 03:54 AM EST

Jeering and booing have become traditions at the Metropolitan Opera over the last several years as expressions of disapproval for new productions of revered classics. As might be expected, Michael Mayer's 1960's Las Vegas setting for Giuseppe Verdi's "Rigoletto" was met with this derision; but for the first time in a long time, it was unwarranted. I am among those who have criticized many recent new productions (read my "Ballo in Maschera" review to see what I mean), but the Vegas "Rigoletto" definitely hits the jackpot (pun intended).

Many times, directors attempt to impose symbols on stories in hopes of reaching some sort of metaphysical truth. This pandering often leads to contrivances that usually get audiences riled up for good reason. However, another method is at work here. Mayer recognizes that there are no symbols to extrapolate; the characters themselves are universal archetypes that are so complex and powerful that they break the bounds of being limited to one context. His production is an attempt to portray how this story and its universal characters are truly timeless. What he achieves is not only a modern production, but a presentation that actually offers a little bit of everything for all audiences with different tastes. Those interested in a modern perspective on a classic work can indulge in the new 1960's Las Vegas setting. Opera goers who are sick of minimalist sets and crave lavish tableaus will be content with Mayer's and set designer Christine Jones' sumptuous and visually stunning creations. Opera fans that are sick of seeing classic stories ruined by directors' manipulations will not only be pleased that Mayer respects the text to its fullest, but also brings new insight into the work.

The production is not perfect by any means. The famous "maledizione" scene played in extremely awkward fashion. Is someone cursing another person in a 1960's casino really going to stun and shock everyone is such tragic fashion? I'm not saying that Rigoletto does not take it serious, but an interesting approach would have been to have everyone mock the curse in public, but then allow Rigoletto to ponder and obsess over it on his own; it would have kept perfectly with the delicate character that he represents in his private world and emphasized the mask of fortitude he wears in public.

The first Act is set in a flashy casino that is ornamented with bright lights, tables, slot machines, and two elevators on each side of the stage. Rigoletto seems to be the owner of the casino and hides Gilda on the top floor away from everyone. The Duke is a star in the vein of Frank Sinatra and even gets to showcase the "Questa o quella" as a performance. Monterone shows up as an Arab sheik, which not only lends some light on some political issues of the era, but also correlates with our present day conflict with the Middle East. Making him an Arab keeps the religious implications intact and makes the curse not only comprehensible, but completely believable. Mayer scores a major coup at the end of this scene when he has everyone run out of the casino and only Rigoletto, his bar tender, and a mysterious man remain. That man is Sparafucile and his offer to Rigoletto flows seamlessly from the prior scene; since the hitman has witnessed the curse, he knows that Rigoletto is under duress and might want to exact some revenge. Metal gratings descend to close off the casino floor and Gilda rides down the elevator to visit her father. The gratings not only ensure she has not contact with that world, but their design emphasizes the captive lifestyle Rigoletto keeps his daughter in. The fact that the space in which they interact is so crammed, only adds to this suffocated world Gilda is forced to endure. Mayer scores yet another coup as the act draws to a close. The Duke's men send Rigoletto into the wrong elevator as they run and grab Gilda. As Verdi's sarcastic and energetic score indicates their running off, a few of the men dance around in comic fashion; the light tone underlies the horror they have just committed and makes it all the more impactful. Rigoletto gets out of the elevator and runs off to find Giovanna dead in the other elevator; it is the first of three murders in this opera. Throughout the first act, the Duke's entourage has a lively, almost friendly innocence, but this big twist reveals just how dangerous these men really are. The murder of Giovanna also raises the stakes considerably in a manner that is usually not showcased in other "Rigoletto" productions.

As soon as the curtain rose on the second act, it was met with some cheers and boos. It is a penthouse in the hotel and is made up of a green wall, three crystal chandeliers that resemble the Met's, and a winding staircase that leads to a lower level. All of the Duke's men are lying about drunk and hung over. This scene is not as busy as the first act from a visual standpoint but instead allows the intimacy of the characters to take center stage; the Gilda/Rigoletto duet is the highlight of this act. Rigoletto takes a seat as Gilda circles about frantically telling him how she met the Duke. She walks to the other side of the room as if to hide her shame and he walks over to her. By the end of the duet they are seated together on one couch; a tender moment that is well executed by all involved. Monterone eventually makes his return and is shot to death.

The third act is the least impressive of all from a visual standpoint as the subtly of the first two is lost; it almost seemed that Mayer may have been trying a bit too hard to make the end vibrant and visually potent. On stage left is the outline Sparafucile's club, while on stage right is a car. The set is dominated by large wavy lights that create a "sturm und drang" feel. They become the centerpiece of the entire act; almost to the detriment of the entire scene. When the big storm arrives, the lights show off a number of different effects that all build to an explosion of color and fireworks that could cause an epileptic seizure. This detail aside, the staging of Gilda inside a car in her death scene works well with the context and brings the production to a rousing end.

The lighting in this production is excellent. The storm sequence could be a bit much, but there is no denying the virtuosic display by debutant Kevin Adams. The subtle moments are more effective. At the end of the first and second acts, the stage goes completely red; an emphasis of the murders that have been showcased. As Gilda speaks of love, the lighting takes on a pinkish hue that creates a surreal, romantic atmosphere. During the Sparafucile/Rigoletto scene, the lights cover the stage with an icy blue light.

Vocally, the performance had a great deal of highlights from its lead performers. Željko Lučić is not your traditional Rigoletto. He is not a heavy baritone with tremendous projection; he is however an elegant one with a very delicate and sonorous tone. He used it to his advantage in his portrayal of the societal reject and made for a compelling performance. I liken his turn to that of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau as the German baritone's interpretation of the role resonated with nobility and grace rather than brutality that is usually showcased in the role. Lučić's Rigoletto is tame, collected, and incredibly introspective. During his "Pari Siamo" monologue in which he laments his wretched existence, Lučić sang quietly throughout; it challenged the listener to draw nearer to him as if in cinematic close-up. As he sang the beginning of the duet "Ah! Deh non parlare al misero," his delicate singing sounded like a lament expressing heart-felt vulnerability. During the famous "Cortigiani vil razza dannata" in which he rebukes the courtiers for kidnapping his wife, Lučić had his most impressive moment of the evening. In the middle of the aria, as he begs for help, Rigoletto cries out "Taci, ohime" on a sustained high F. Lučić let the high note soar at full voice as a cry of despair and then slowly created a beautiful diminuendo that not only created a feeling of pain, but also emphasized Rigoletto's sense of powerlessness. At the end of the work, he uttered glorious pianissimi on the words "non morrai" that sounded like sobs; again his restraint and quiet approach re-iterated Rigoletto's helplessness. Lučić's lighter voice did sound over-manned by the orchestra in thick passages such as the "Si! Vendetta" duet, but it did not detract from an otherwise emotional rendition.

Soprano Diana Damrau had the best performance in my opinion as Rigoletto's daughter. The costuming and Damrau's non-stopped energy early on clearly indicated a pubescent teenage girl. Her frenetic circling of her father made her questions about his name and family feel incredibly organic and fed perfectly into her scene with the Duke. As she confessed her love to Giovanna, she started off singing forte, but then realizing that she could be heard by her father immediately dropped to a piano and sang to her guardian in secret. As she continued to relate her love to her companion, she slowly built to what looked to be an explosion of sound, but was cut off by the Duke. Instantly, Gilda ran about the stage looking for an exit, but during the course of the duet, her nervous energy was calmed by the Duke's caresses. After he ran off, she grabbed a diary and started to write in it as she sang the famous "Caro Nome." Damrau emphasized the rests in the opening phrases, creating the feeling of sighs of love. She sang with tremendous allure; the high notes mostly sung with a sensual piano. During the course of the aria, she went from writing in the diary to lying on the bench; at one moment she even started to explore her new found sexuality. For the remainder of the aria, Damrau added a frenetic energy to vocal leaps as if Gilda were in conflict with herself. When the aria came to an end, Damrau held the final note for a substantial amount of time; it gave off a strong sense of freedom and the feeling that Gilda had accepted her feelings. Such depth of character development is usually not found in many portrayals of this celebrated aria. During the second act, Damrau's singing had a fuller quality; the young innocent girl with a light voice had been forced into womanhood. However, her emotionality was still as heightened as ever and Gilda ran about the stage scared of being touched by anyone. In the third act, there was no sign of a little girl; Damrau's Gilda was poised as she heard the Duke seduce another woman and had a strong sense of authority as she ran into the club to die. During the final duet, Damrau showcased the most riveting vocal display of the evening as she sang throughout with a very thin delicate tone that had a floating, angelic, and otherworldly quality wrapped into one.

Tenor Piotr Beczala possesses a beautiful tone and elegant phrasing, but he provided the least assured of the performances. His Duke was a wise-cracking charmer, but there was no added layer to the character. Beczala sang every aria with fullness of voice and sculpted in some wonderful diminuendi throughout. However, his upper register was not always as wondrous as the rest of his voice. In extended passages in the passaggio, his voice lost its brilliant luster and had a muted quality to it. At other points, he pushed his high note and they gave off a strained sound. This was most noticeable during the duet with Gilda and the famous Act 3 quartet. In both passages, the tenor has long ascending lines that climax in B flats; the ascension often emphasized the tone of his voice changing from a warm bright color to the muffled quality. When the high notes came out of leaps however, he maintained the brilliance in his tone; the perfect example is the conclusion to the "Donna É Mobile" where the tenor leaps all the way to a high B natural from the middle register. Bezcala's B natural resonated brilliantly and capped an overall solid rendition of the noted showpiece. He was also in fine form during the famous "Parmi Veder De Lagrimi" where his fluid legato suited the music beautifully.

Bass Śtefan  Kocán brought a dark rough voice to Sparafucile and earned tremendous applause from the audience after his low F in the duet with Rigoletto. Mezzo-Soprano Oksana Volkova was an alluring Maddalena and had an equally seductive quality in her singing.

Conductor Michele Mariotti had a solid night at the podium, though not without a few frustrating moments. His pacing was solid, but he had a few oddly placed subito piano that tended to subdue the energy he had been creating. At the end of act 1, the orchestra has a frenetic build as Rigoletto looks for his daughter. This moment is sheer genius as it simultaneously describes Rigoletto's search and his growing stress; the phrase crescendos until it explodes into Rigoletto's proclamation of the "Maledizione." In the middle of the build, Mariotti decided to suddenly quiet the orchestra and create a quick crescendo to the climax. However, the moment was not only jarring, but the killed the momentum. The ensuing crescendo did little to make up for it dramatically. Moments later, he had the thundering orchestra quiet slightly and rebuild to another emphatic close. This was done to give Lučić some support, but hurt the power of the moment. Fortunately, Mariotti did bring a great deal of insightful moments to his reading of the score. During the prelude, the percussion was used to build up to a deafening culmination. During the final duet between Rigoletto and Gilda, Mariotti emphasized the syncopated string line that detailed the irregular heartbeats of Gilda as she prepares to die. Mariotti was very supportive of his singers and often accommodated the orchestra so as to not overpower them.

This "Rigoletto" will surely have a fair share of detractors, but those open to new visions and willing to try something different will be pleasantly surprised by how effectively staged Mayer's production is. The singing is solid throughout and includes some truly revelatory performances. I am guilty of criticizing many modern Met productions under general manager Peter Gelb, but I am a strong supporter of this "Rigoletto." It is one of the finest achievements of the general manager's tenure.  

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