Living at the Opera

Giuseppe Verdi, October 9/10, 1813 - January 27, 1901

This performance of Rigoletto by Giuseppe Verdi and a libretto by Francesco Maria Piave was staged by O. Mukhortova at the St. Petersburg Mussorgsky State Academic Opera Theater on May 1st, 2001.

I can still recall with vivid immediacy the visceral excitement I felt just moments after the curtain went up on Giuseppe Verdi’s Rigoletto at the Academic Opera Theater in St. Petersburg. It was on May 21, 2001, to be exact,’ that my eye caught the chorus members ever so gracefully flitting across the stage in perfect harmony with Verdi’s exuberant open­ing chords of Act 1, acting out the regal banality that is so much a part of the Duke of Mantua’s courtly affectations. They projected this atti­tude with such assurance and aplomb that it immediately stirred my emotions. The pleasure I felt on seeing and hearing the Russians pre­sent their unique interpretation of Guiseppe Verdi was based on their skilled acting and their striking vocal rendition.

The artistically acute choices made by O. Mukhortova in her ca­pacity as stage director demonstrated the strong theatrical commitment which is essential to a successful opera performance. Her expertise made it seem as if the singers were creating their own interpretations in an ambience they clearly found comfortable, while Mukhortova offered direction that kept the opera flowing from beginning to end without sac­rificing the director’s point of view.

Mukhortova took a very traditional approach to Rigoletto. At first glance, the production seemed locked into old performance practices that couldn’t be budged, but this impression was deceptive. She fol­lowed the typical opera setting in and around 16h-century Mantua, but filled the production with an intensity that was so character-driven that it impelled both Rigoletto’s rage towards the Duke and his courtiers and his deep abiding love for his daughter to speed along at the same pace. These forces of rage and love run throughout Verdi’s opera, not as con­flicting emotions, but as two channels sharing the same emotional strain. This dramatic fluidity is best illustrated by four small sections culled from certain scenes in the opera, which show how Mukhortova accomplished her objectives without relinquishing any of her artistic beliefs - no small feat in today’s operatic world where many directors run blatant interference with the composer’s and the librettist’s wishes and arbitrarily substitute their own interpretations.

Act 1, Scene 1, Rigoletto’s entrance

U. Ivshin’s entrance as Rigoletto immediately established the con­flicts inherent in this character’s personality. After rolling out of a long silk damask, he quickly jumped to his feet and, despite his deformity, darted forward with a vocal outburst that told us unequivocally that he had only one job open to him - that of court jester. It seemed to take Ivshin all of ten seconds to register the fateful tragedy awaiting him as Rigoletto.

Act 2, Scene 2, Rigoletto’s home

After pleading with his daughter, Gilda, to keep herself hidden from the outside world, Rigoletto calls for Giovanna, Gilda’s duenna, and asks her if anyone has come to the house while he’s been gone. Of­ten this little vignette between Rigoletto and Giovanna is acted out as only an aside, even though the music slides into a lilting dramatic vari­ation expressing a great deal of tenderness by Rigoletto. On his line, “A veglia o donna, questo fior… ” (Oh, dear Giovanna, guard my daughter, this tender flower…), Mukhortova provides a moving and dramatic touch. Rigoletto takes Giovanna by the arm downstage to speak to her of his strong paternal love while Gilda wanders through the little house and garden, gazing around in childlike fashion. The contrast between Rigoletto’s worried comments and Gilda’s complete innocence vividly brings to the fore, through the deep sense of anxiety conveyed by Ivshin, a portent of future trouble ahead for both father and daughter.

Act. 2, A hall in the Duke’s palace

Rigoletto enters the hallway of the Duke’s palace knowing the courtiers have taken his daughter to the Duke. After an angry outburst, introduced by the famous line “Cortigiani, vil razza dannata” (You vile race of villains), Rigoletto rushes to the Duke’s bedroom door but is pushed back and, in Mukhortova’s staging, is locked in tightly by two courtiers with long spears. The contrast between Rigoletto’s restricted movements and his moving pleading for forgiveness for his actions grows even more pathetic when Monterone is brought in. His daughter has also been a victim of the Duke’s sexual appetite and he, too, is held back by two spears. Here, Mukhortova demonstrates how her vision of two fathers, both physically restrained and powerless against the sala­cious Duke, can bring the highest level of intensity to Verdi’s musical and dramatic intentions.

Act 3, A rundown tavern on the banks of a river

The last example is the shortest, but the one with the most pro­found result. Sparafucile, the assassin, has just dropped out of his hov­el’s door the sack supposedly containing the body of the Duke. Rigo­letto, in a rare moment of joy, believes he is finally getting his revenge and begins to drag the sack towards the river where he plans to dump it. Suddenly he hears a voice, and in the following few confusing seconds during which Rigoletto tries to find out where the voice is coming from, he lets go of the sack and peers desperately at it, still not recognizing that all too familiar melody of “La Donna e’ Mobile.” Rigoletto slowly comes to the frightening and terrible realization that fate has again done him in and, so to speak, rolled him back into the damask once more. How well Mukhortova has tied these small details together to make this performance a wholly dramatic and satisfying experience!

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