Rigoletto Lost in Time
As a first opera, Giuseppe Verdi’s 1851 classic Rigoletto at the Metropolitan Opera did not leave me favoring the art form. The most captivating moment was when the orchestra first let sound from the pit. This initial dose of harmony rang true to the virtue that many operas obtain through their symphonies. The rest of the spectacle was reserved for impressive projections of voice and sub-par acting. Perhaps, one of the problems with opera in general is that it needs performers who are adept in both singing and acting. This makes it difficult to deliver an aging work against modern standards, which became more demanding with time. Otherwise, it may just be today’s modern audience. In both cases time is responsible for the gradual decay of appreciation for operas.
All that I have experienced of operas are snippets in films such as Il Dolce Suono from Lucia di Lammermoor in “The Fifth Element” and Ride of the Valkyries from Die Walkure in “Apocolypse Now.” From them, I learned that operas are known for their rich vocal substance. George Gagnidze and Joshua Benaim, who performed Rigoletto and Marullo respectively, were both exceptional baritones. Their voices were clear rich in tone and comprehensible in their language. However, I found it difficult to absorb Christine Schafer’s performance as Gilda. Schafer, a soprano, hit high notes, which took my ears’ by storm, and impaired their capacity to comprehend her words. I have never heard such a pitch before in mainstream music and I realized that there must be a sacrifice of diction for tone. Understandably, it is a difficult projection, yet I was still stupefied with the unfamiliar sound and divided over her choice of forgoing verbal clarity for quality of tone. With the decline of such vocal work from television and other mediums of entertainment, I, nevertheless, appreciated Schafer’s vocal work more so for rarity then anything else, like a sight of a rare animal facing extinction. With less people acculturated to opera and ingrained with fine arts, who can blame me?
I was left to judge the acting with today’s standard as well. Since my sight was limited by my seating, I only caught a few glimpses of Gagnidze and Schafer’s facial gestures and body language with binoculars. In those moments I saw an archaic realism, if there is such a thing. It seemed like the performers were trying too hard too simulate emotion. Maybe this could have passed for acting a century ago, when acting was reserved for theater and opear, but I recognized the performers drawing verisimilitude to a high school drama club. Then again, my experiences of good acting were all in film.
Aside from the issues I mentioned in the performance itself, there were a few discrepancies in the way the symphony was written. When Rigoletto mourns over his daughter’s disgrace, I was convinced by his thunderous, yet insecure, tone but confused by the orchestra’s vibe: their sound was less mournful an disquieting than it was jolly or mellow. This could have been an effort to build tension between the two mediums, reserving the climax for the third act, but I was thrown off from the believability of the show. This of course is not an issue in the performance itself, but a detail that Verdi was responsible for.
I cannot reproach Verdi for undermining one of Rigoletto’s tragic moments because I am not qualified to evaluate his work. An audience in 1851 held him to different standards, the same standards he held himself to in producing Rigoletto. I have come to expect more then just reactionary revenge from tragic heroes. If Verdi wrote the piece today, a little bit of the psychotic, ear wrenching, audible snippets of Kubrick’s “The Shining” would provided a stronger backbone the Rigoletto’s fury. Nevertheless, my lack of experience with operas leaves me to compare it generally. This says two things: that I can’t justly evaluate his work, and that opera is still fading out of popular entertainment.
