It is quite an achievement, making the womanising Duke of Mantua the only likeable character in Rigoletto.

This was despite Raffaele Abete not giving the finest of the vocal performances of the evening. They belonged to the Rigoletto of Daniel Luis de Vicente and Gilda from Soraya Mafi. Admittedly Abete was not the originally cast Duke and maybe he too was trying to work out why he was some sort of cheeky chappie, prancing around in silk knickers, admiring himself in the mirror, copying Gilda’s rather manic hand gestures and being rather bored with the women who just kept throwing themselves at him. His look, a cross between a fay, blond Errol Flynn and Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein. He has an appealing voice but on the night was not strong enough.

If the director’s intention was to show how awful the Duke and his toff mates were, coming back to the idea of the Burlington Club etc., why was it that it was the women came over as even worse. They were were portrayed as either being available, tawdry, desperate for him, thanks to his ravishing good looks, or with Gilda, a silly girl who in True Romance style is so besotted with her first hunk that she literally kills herself for him. No wonder the Duke sings La donna e mobile. Even Alyona Abramova as the temptress and co-murderer Maddelena, who has seen it all and had them all, goes weak at the knees. Of course, the men have a ball with them but, hey, aren’t they all toxic and isn’t what they do?

So the courtiers, reminiscent of the muppets, bop around, waving their hands and wigs around, having a quick shag here and there, watching the show that is the downfall of Rigoletto. Meanwhile, while we are like the Muppet Show grumpy old men in their box Statler and Waldorf, keeping our comments to ourselves until the interval. Fortunately, the singing was not like the Muppets and the chorus shone, despite Annemarie Woods’ all knickers and no fur coat daft costumes. The orgy of bodies on stage was enhanced by some more hunky sort of actor types who partook in wrestling and some acrobatic bits and pieces, during these jolly japes.

Some of the company’s employees are facing losing their jobs or reduced hours as the arts sector redirects funding in Wales as well as England, thus polite protests such as slogan T-shirts. The Welsh government similarly seems set on putting operations before opera.

A better production would have been useful for this stage in the argument. The principals are not staff and this is what made this performance worthwhile.

Daniel Luis de Vicente

Soraya Mafi

Soraya Mafi and Raffaele Abete

Back to what matters and we had a glorious Gilda from Soraya Mafi who rose above having to be a rather annoyingly nervy, unstable, near hysterical young girl who was probably already heading for bedlam having been locked up all her life by over-protective daddy, before her encounter with a handsome stranger at church. When she was able to stop having to jump around all over the place her Caro nome was a delight. However, her scene with Raffaele Abete as the Duke, pretending to be a student (yet again in opera) was rather awful, too much gesticulation, too much plonking around the stage, and the mirroring of Gilda’s over the top hand gestures just odd. It was not helped  by rather unheroic singing from the Duke. Presumably being told to chuck yourself around the stage all the time (particularly when standing in front of vast latex looking curtains), did not help the Rigoletto as sung by Daniel Luis de Vicente. He sings the role with great authority, capturing the contrasting tones for the vocal requirements depending on the context and his mental state.

There were other excellent voices in this production, including Abramova. As Monterone we had a rich and imposing Paul Carey Jones. It was not his fault he was made to look like Gandalf when he first walked on the stage, but his singing more than made up for it. Similarly as Sparafucile Nathanaël Tavernier was just splendid. Like his sister, he looked like a theatrical figure with a deadly pallor. His facial expression and look was a little reminiscent of George from the tv comedy George and Mildred. I am sure the excellent French singer would be oblivious to this.

Conductor Pietro Rizzo glides through the score effectively but there were times when you just wanted the drama, the intensity, the horror to be more displayed through the playing.

In some shows that obsess with the playing off of humour with shock, overpowered by conceptual fun, the singing is the weakest element. In this pantoesque Rigoletto the opposite was the case. Thank goodness for that, as directors come and go but fine singers are a rare breed.

Rigoletto is not an easy opera to effective stage and that is partly due to the nature and structure of the work, with little character backstory, analysis or development. But it is the sexual and emotional dynamic that directors seem to fail to grasp. The Duke separates emotional from physical. He can pine for Gilda while having meaningless sex with someone else. Is this purely a male quality that Verdi wanted to convey? Is it a male attribute only men understand?

Further performances at Wales Millennium Centre Until October 4, then Llandudno, Plymouth, Oxford and Southampton until November 16.

 wno.org.uk

Images: Richard Hubert Smith