Željko Lučić / Anmeldelser

Dating from 2008, the Semperoper’s current production of Rigoletto is quite intriguing. It’s set in what appears to be a swanky 21st-century Berlin apartment – industrial, sparse and effortlessly cool – and in many ways this is an interesting choice. Berlin life is notoriously debaucherous, and this matches well to the Duke’s court in the opera, where sin and vice are not just condoned, but encouraged. There’s also something about the bleak simplicity of the set, which makes it seem almost timeless, emphasising the eternal nature of the emotions played out on stage. Though dying for a man you’ve known for less than a day isn’t something you’d expect from a girl in 2013, the young, unquestioning love of Gilda, the insatiable lust of the Duke, and Rigoletto’s desire for revenge don’t have a sell-by date. In spite of this, the first scene was a disappointment. During the overture Rigoletto comes up from a hole in the stage in a suit, changing into his jester’s costume, helping to emphasis his difficult dual nature: Rigoletto is no fool, he’s just clever enough to act like one. However, the scene which follows – in which we see the madness that is the Duke’s court – is unbelievably tame. The chorus wear animal masks (realistic ones, not masquerade ball style) and rather than creating a visual spectacle of sinful jollity they seem to do little more than stand around and occasionally come slightly closer to each other than would be appropriate in polite 19th-century company. Thus, when Monterone enters and complains of the Duke’s orgies, the meaning is all but completely lost. Giorgio Berrugi is an impressive Duke. He has a very big and even voice, but it’s what he does with it which is most interesting. He finds details in the music which are so often overlooked and really makes the most of this somewhat one-dimensional character. The famous aria “La donna è mobile” is wonderfully sung, with just the right amount of rubato and it never begins to cloy or sound routine as such well known arias can. As Rigoletto, Markus Marquardt is also stunning to listen to, and really delved into Rigoletto’s conflicted character. The Scene II monolgue, where Rigoletto lays his heart bare, was stunningly sung and acted and was one of the evening’s high points. Olesya Golovneva’s Gilda was light and sprightly, contrasting well with the richness of the male leads. Her voice shone throughout, but was always bathed in emotion. You felt her love, you felt her die; it was all there in the colours of her voice. However, perhaps the most impressive thing about the cast was that no one really stood out as a star; they were all equally impressive, and not just the principals. Scott Conner was a wonderfully dark and sinister Sparafucile, and Matthias Henneberg’s Monterone was full of a fearful vengeance which brought the fate and dark magic into the theatre, and all of them had voices to match Berrugi, Golovneva, and Marquardt. It’s rare to see a cast so even, where even the smallest solo is wonderfully sung. This was a very enjoyable Rigoletto in many ways, with singing of the highest calibre. Added to the ever wonderful playing of the Staatskapelle Dresden, this made for a musically satisfying evening. However, I found the production in many ways too tame. In spite of the relocation of time and place, it seemed somewhat conservative. The Duke’s court is a place of sexual depravity, where the Duke’s promiscuity with other men’s wives and his raping of Gilda goes unpunished, an environment which is somewhat lacking in this production.

Francisco Negrin directed this production. It looks quite utilitarian (one set, grey with doors and openings on each side and a fire constantly burning at the front of the stage), however Negrin does some very interesting things with the production. He focuses on Azucena the gypsy and her history, the overture and the first aria (Di due figli vivea padre beato) in which a brilliant Tagliavini’s Roberto recounts the sorry history in one corner of the stage.Ludovic Tézier is, in my opinion, one of the best baritones in the world, and in this performance he more than lives up to that reputation as the evil Count di Luna. Tézier doesn’t just ‘do’ evil though. Through his wonderful use of colour and his strong acting, he humanises the Count, making him more morally grey in a black and white world. His singing is just perfect, that range, that timbre – it was a genuine pleasure to listen. Maria Agresta as Leonora was again, fantastic, she gave it everything that she had. Her D’amor sull’ali rosee in particular was stunning, and brought the house down.This production is a brilliant exploration of the characters. Negrin adds depth and humanity to the performance, which is so rare and important for this opera in particular. The leading cast and chorus were brilliant, with some truly phenomenal, and at points, haunting, singing and acting, a must see.

Vratogna is in total command, vocally and dramatically, ever alert to the sinuous subtleties of Verdi’s most flexible score, dark and menacing, and ruthless in his racist determination to destroy his man. He knows instinctively that all devious schemers can present a plausible face to the world while sowing seeds of doubt in malleable minds. Vratogna took over the role just three weeks ago (just as he stepped in as Scarpia three years ago) and it was he, not Kaufmann, who drew and deserved the greatest ovation on opening night.That storm scene introduces another character to the piece in this new production: the set itself. Designer Boris Kudlička has built a clever, shape-shifting tunnel that fragments and slides, lit starkly by Bruno Poet to emphasise Otello’s descent into jealous madness, or bathed in soft, golden hues when hidden rooms and courtyards are revealed behind attractive Moorish tracery. The set both brilliantly frames and comments on the drama, and is suitably ambiguous for a production that consciously moves away from the realism of Moshinsky’s Renaissance world towards an expressionism that more closely reflects Verdi’s most daringly fluid score.The Italian soprano Maria Agresta makes an implacable Desdemona, devastated yet dignified in the face of Otello’s false accusations of adultery and singing with a tender yet creamy intensity, never more so than in Piangea cantando nell’erma landa and her heartfelt Ave Maria, moments before her demise. The Canadian tenor Frédéric Antoun is a lithely elegant Cassio, and among the smaller roles, Estonian mezzo Kai Rüütel as Emilia and Korean bass In Sung Sim really make their mark.