Rigoletto
There were several points during Thursday night’s production of Rigoletto that I lost track of what exactly was going on. It wasn’t a miscast character in the ensemble, an unentertaining script, or the fact that the words were spoken in archaic Italian that caused my lapse in attentiveness; rather it was the set behind the performers that for the better part of the play kept me in awe, and pure amazement. Naturally there are more aspects to an opera than just the set design, but once the chandeliers and the curtains rose, the grandeur of the Duke’s palace enveloped the stage, and with no coincidence, the splendor of the rest of the performance followed suit.
While certainly I am no opera critic, I’d like to think that I have somewhat of a discerning taste when it comes to various art forms; yet when I entered the New York Metropolitan Opera for the first time last week, it dawned on me that rather than treat the experience as an assignment to be reviewed, my primary purpose should be to enjoy it first…and what a difference the change in mindset made. Being its some one-hundred and fifty years since the opera’s transition from Victor Hugo’s forbidden French play to a world renowned opera, it is difficult to criticize the overall storyline, which proved to be not only humorous at times, but an observation of the society at the time of its initial production.
The opera, first performed in 1851, consists of three acts and is widely held to be one of composer Giuseppe Verdi’s greatest works. Having never seen a previous rendition of ‘Rigoletto,’ naturally it is impractical to try and compare it to anything else. While having little outside knowledge of what to expect may be considered a negative to some, it allowed for me to enjoy the performance for what it was, not what it could have been. That being said, I felt the opera was particularly well cast. Playing the title character, Georgian-born baritone George Gagnidze (in his debut role at the Metropolitan Opera) adopted the role of the hunchback Rigoletto as well as one could hope, bringing with him not only his singing ability, but an emotional portrayal of a man mocked, jeered and beaten down by life, only to later on lose the single thing most important to him. Playing his daughter Gilda, was German-born Christine Schäfer, a soprano not many years Gagnidze younger (if any at all), Schäfer skillfully interacted with her costars onstage, all the while maintaining the innocence and naïveté that her secluded (and not yet mature) character possessed. Having not enough time to devote to the other singers, it should be mentioned that considering that the entire opera was done in Italian, each of the stars should be commended for their ability to inflect the emotional significance of their words in their voices.
An opera, while very much similar to a play, relies heavily on its orchestra and conductor; while I may not have the ‘ear’ to have heard possible errors, I was able to appreciate the integration of the music into the action as well as the great dramatic effect that the orchestra had on what was going on. It has always been said that the soundtrack makes or breaks a Hollywood movie, the same holds true even more so with opera productions. Whether it was supplying the background to the now well-regarded “La donna è mobile” or completely setting the scene with a dramatic open, the orchestra only deserves praise for what they accomplished.
Undoubtedly there were points of the production that I could not fit into this limited review, yet the important thing remains: I, a sports-loving, comedy-watching, teenage male, not only went to the opera, but it enjoyed it.
