Don Giovanni, Soho Theatre, August/ September 2011

This is Robin Norton-Hale’s reduced form of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, updated to the turn of the 21^st century with Giovanni as a city trader named Johnny.

Maciek O'Shea as Johnny

A simple set, occasional video projections, a piano and live electronic music, but it’s still essentially Mozart, and among the three different casts, Maciek O’Shea was superb in the main role of Johnny. An insouciant city slicker with bundles of charm and a devil may care attitude, he has made quite enough money already and is now glad to pile one experience on top of another. The challenge and novelty is the thrill, as his faithful intern explains to Elvira in an updated version of Leporello’s Madamina aria, “So regardless of your feelings/ I’ve recorded all his dealings/ But the thing he finds most thrilling/ is a woman who’s not willing”. Using a hand-held digital recorder he summarises Johnny’s amorous conquests, and the Don’s 1003 lovers in Spain alone become the same number for Johnny in London. The long-suffering intern, named Alexander rather than Leporello, was excellently sung and portrayed by Richard Immerglück.

Christina Gill as Elvira, and Richard Immerglück as Alexander

The Soho Theatre’s small space brings us close to the action, and we clearly see Johnny’s callous knifing of the Commendatore before he smashes a window to give the pretence of a break-in. But in this reduced space I found one or two of the female voices came over too strongly at times, though O’Shea and Immerglück were a delight to listen to, and the diction of the whole cast was excellent. It’s always a pleasure to abandon surtitles yet understand every word that’s sung, and there was an engaging immediacy about the duet between Johnny and Alexander at the start of Act II when Johnny decides he’d best make himself scarce and leave his clients to Alexander.

Some loud electronic music at the start of this production came as a shock, and I was ready to walk, but fortunately it didn’t last and the musical support turned out to be excellent. OperaUpClose has done a great job of adapting this longish opera to a shorter and smaller scale, and the scene at the end when Johnny invites the Commendatore to dinner made complete sense. Johnny, who gets his thrills from new experiences, relishes the prospect of having a dead man at his table, and Gerard Delrez gave a strong account of the Commendatore’s demand that Johnny seek forgiveness, which of course he refuses. After the presence has left, Johnny sees his life flash past him, and rushes out through the door. At the end we see an image of a man hanging by a rope — Johnny’s final experience, his own death.

Performances continue until September 17 — for details click here.

Three Days in May, Richmond Theatre, August/September 2011

On 30 September 1938, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain flew back to England from Munich and addressed the crowds in Downing Street, giving his “peace for our time” speech. Parts of Czechoslovakia were taken by Germany the next day, and far worse happened to that country in March 1939. On 1 September 1939 Germany invaded Poland, and two days later Britain and France declared war.

Warren Clarke as Churchill

On 10 May 1940 after disastrous Allied military operations on the Continent of Europe, Chamberlain resigned, fully realising the gravity of the situation. Labour party leaders had refused to serve under him in a national coalition government, Lord Halifax the foreign secretary declined to become Prime Minister, and Churchill took over. We are now ready for the start of this play.

On 26 May, Paul Reynard the new French Prime Minister flew to London with proposals for negotiations, leading to three days that formed a turning point in the Second World War. The war cabinet had to decide whether to play for more time and try further peace deals, or tell Mussolini and Hitler to take a running jump. There are five main players: Churchill, Chamberlain, and Halifax, along with Attlee and Arthur Greenwood on the Labour side.

Halifax was keen on negotiation and had Chamberlain with him. “Thank God, Winston’s finally coming round to our point of view” he said after the inner cabinet meeting on 26 May. Churchill in fact wanted to fight, but he was in a tricky position because he had to take Chamberlain with him as leader of the Conservative party, even if Halifax was to be left on one side. So what happened?

Jeremy Clyde as Lord Halifax

Ben Brown’s new play tells us, in a very interesting and well-focussed way. We start and end with Jock Colville, Churchill’s assistant private secretary, at that time a young man of 25, well portrayed by James Alper. Jeremy Clyde was a convincing Halifax with his withered arm, and calm attitude, with Robert Demeger showing Chamberlain as a man with reduced energy levels compared to Churchill. When Churchill calls him in early for the cabinet meeting on May 28 he waits alone with Colville, saying, “It’s now eighteen days since I was Prime Minister — eighteen of the longest days in my life”. He waits . . . silently. And this is one of the strengths of the play. The silences allow the script to breathe, giving Warren Clarke space for his brilliant performance as Churchill, entirely able to coax, cajole, or fire back in annoyance, and the quiet moments are something to treasure. They allow some wonderful quotes to stand out. “History will be kind to me, because I shall write it”, says Churchill. And at the end, Colville, talking from the future, tells us that when the Prime Minister went to Moscow, Stalin said he could think of no other instance in history when the future of the world depended on the courage of one man.

The simple staging, directed by Alan Strachan with designs by Gary McCann, manages to take us from the cabinet room to the garden with only a clever change of Mark Howett’s lighting. It is very effective, and while this play is in line for a West End theatre, yet to be determined, it’s worth a trip to Richmond to see it — click here for details. Performances continue until September 3, after which it goes on tour to the following theatres: Cambridge Arts Theatre, Sept. 5–10; Theatre Royal Bath, Sept. 12–17; Malvern Theatres, Sept. 19–24; Theatre Royal Brighton, Sept. 26–Oct. 1; Milton Keynes Theatre, Oct. 3–8; Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford, Oct. 11–15.

I’ve just heard that this play will go to the Trafalgar Studios from Oct 31 to March 3, 2012.

Bayreuth Festival Retrospective, 2011

This year the Bayreuth Festival produced five different operas, opening with a new production of Tannhäuser, followed by four revivals: Meistersinger, Lohengrin, Parsifal, and Tristan, in that order.  I went to the first four, which included Katarina Wagner’s grotesque Meistersinger for which spare tickets were selling at half price, and no wonder. With a weak Walther this year it was even worse than I remembered. Tristan I avoided after the dull production and low quality performance of two years ago, so my sequence ended with Parsifal, which was stunning.

More on that later, but on opening night the Tannhäuser production team was roundly booed. Sebastian Baumgarten portrayed the opera as one vast recycling experiment, yet just behind me in the centre box sat Angela Merkel and Jean-Claude Trichet, who represent the main people in control of another huge experiment, namely the Euro. I wonder if they saw the irony. In the Euro experiment, Greece is in the Venusberg, and Elisabeth represents the Euro, but rather than seek redemption in Rome, the Greek government must journey to Berlin and Brussels. In Tannhäuser we know the result. He does not gain absolution for his sins of excess, but there is divine intervention. In the real experiment, Greece has now started its journey, but regardless of what the Euro gods eventually decide, the omnipotent power on high is the bond market. That’s worth remembering because although the higher power absolves Tannhäuser at the end of the opera, there’s a final denouement: both he and Elisabeth die.

What a pity the director of Tannhäuser made no use of this ominous comparison, so that left just two good productions, Lohengrin and Parsifal. In Hans Neuenfels’ Lohengrin production I liked the rats and video projections, which gave a novel insight into a Wagner opera I care for less than others, but the real punch was from Parsifal. Like many people I’m sceptical of unusual productions, but Norwegian director Stefan Herheim’s bold conception was remarkable. It gave an overview of German history from before the First World War until after the Second. The wound from the Treaty of Versailles, the sorcery that Nazism did to a weakened nation, the huge loss of prestige, and finally the cure from paralysis with the death of the old Germany in the person of Titurel. It was an experience not to be missed.

Fortunately Parsifal will reappear next year — see it if you can. It will be shown in the company of Tristan, Lohengrin, Tannhäuser, and a new production of Fliegende Holländer. As for the Ring, a new production will appear in 2013, the bicentenary of Wagner’s birth.

Swan Lake, in concert, Prom 42, Royal Albert Hall, August 2011

With Valery Gergiev conducting, this was a sell-out. I remember his magnificent Sleeping Beauty at the Proms three years ago, and was looking forward immensely to Swan Lake, but in the end I was disappointed.

It was a promising idea. The orchestra of the Mariinsky Theatre have been in London to play for the Mariinsky Ballet at the Royal Opera House, so why not get a Proms concert out of them, with Gergiev, the music director of the Mariinsky, conducting. And yes, there were good moments. A powerful start to the prologue, continuing into Act I, and a lovely harp solo in Act II, joined by a solo violin that reappeared later in Act III and was superbly played by the leader of the orchestra. The basses rocked to the beat at slower moments during the cygnets dance in Act II, swaying the stems of their instruments from side to side — they were obviously having fun — and the percussionist with the castanets in Act III was right on the beat. It must be super for these soloists to play in the great open space of the Albert Hall, rather than hidden away in the orchestra pit, and they rose to the occasion. As for the full orchestra, Act III started with a woompf, and Act IV began with symphonic passion, lovely strings and woodwind. Gergiev has a dramatic technique for starts and conclusions, but the brass hit plenty of wrong notes in the middle, and overall this failed to ignite.

The Mariinsky orchestra played four Bayaderes on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and this concert was on Monday. Gergiev had little time to get them in shape. It was only one week ago that they performed Swan Lake at Covent Garden, and although this may well have been a cut above, it wasn’t a patch on Gergiev’s Sleeping Beauty with the London Symphony Orchestra in 2008. Please can we have Gergiev and the LSO next year? A theatre orchestra cannot rise above their usual level without adequate rehearsal time, and we should not expect it.

The Turn of the Screw, Glyndebourne, August 2011

The clarity of this production, and this performance, was exceptional. From the first words of the Prologue to the last words of the drama when the Governess asks the limp body of Miles, “What have we done between us?”, the whole story was laid bare.

Governess and children, all photos by Alastair Muir

The scene with the governess travelling by train to the big house where she will look after the two children was beautifully done, with projections of moving countryside through train windows. You feel for the governess, for her uncertainty, “If things go wrong, what shall I do? Who can I ask, with none of my own kind to talk to?”

Flora and Miss Jessel, Miles and Quint

The central feature of this Jonathan Kent production is a large frame of windows, including a French window, that can revolve, be lifted, and rotated out of their frame. The windows help separate the world of normality from otherworldly forces, and in the scene at the lake they lie horizontally over the body of Miss Jessel, as if she were under water before rising up to spook the governess. The previous death of Miss Jessel and Peter Quint is represented partly by branches of a dead tree where Quint sits when he urges Miles to steal the letter, and the many scenes in this opera are formed by bringing stage props together by rotating various annular regions of the stage, sometimes in opposite directions. These are clever designs by Paul Brown, helped by Mark Henderson’s lighting, and I particularly liked the final scene of Act I where Miles is in the bath and Flora is washing her hair. She puts her head in the basin and remains utterly still while Quint appears to Miles. It’s as if time stands still. It’s as if these ghostly appearances exist in a wrinkle of time, inaccessible to Mrs. Grose the housekeeper, but they are disturbances that reveal themselves to receptive minds.

Governess and Miles

This is a chamber opera, with thirteen instrumentalists from the London Philharmonic playing beautifully under the direction of young Czech conductor, Jakub Hruša, the music director of Glyndebourne on Tour. The cast worked together as a team, all with excellent diction, and it’s impossible to pick out single brilliant performances. Toby Spence gave great clarity to the prologue and was a charismatic Quint; and Giselle Allen was a creepy looking Miss Jessel, with her long, untidy, black hair, and spine-tingling voice. Miah Persson was a wonderful governess, pretty and sure of voice, albeit plagued by anxiety, and Susan Bickley was strong and equally sure as Mrs. Grose. This wonderful team of adults was complemented by Joanna Songi as Flora and Thomas Parfitt as Miles. As a woman in her very early twenties, Ms Songi came over very well as a ten year old girl, and Thomas Parfitt played a boy of his own age (12) with superb clarity and voice control. This was as close to perfect a performance of Britten’s opera as one is ever likely to get, and is not to be missed.

 Performances continue until August 28 — for details click here.

La Wally, Opera Holland Park, OHP, August 2011

Act I of this opera is super, ending with Wally’s famous aria Ebben! Ne andrò lontana (Well then! I shall go far away) sung with great dramatic purpose by Gweneth-Ann Jeffers.

Wally and Stromminger, all photos Fritz Curzon

Rather than sing this as a set piece aria, she alternated beautifully between pensive moments and real power. Her stubbornly narcissistic father Stromminger, well-portrayed by Stephen Richardson, has thrown her out after making a fool of himself, throwing a punch at a young man named Hagenbach and landing flat on his back. Realising his daughter cares for Hagenbach, he stupidly insists she marry his mate Gellner, for whom she feels nothing. She has her father’s stubbornness, refuses point blank and leaves their Austrian village to live in the mountains.

That’s the end of Act I, dramatically staged by Opera Holland Park, with a wonderful shooting incident where someone holds a beer glass at arm’s length while a shot is fired shattering the glass.

Hagenbach and Wally

In Act II a year has passed and Wally’s father, a wealthy farmer, is now dead. All might be well for a marriage between Wally and Hagenbach, but things go badly wrong, and Act II loses momentum. The fact that it’s a bit confusing is illustrated by reading various synopses, which don’t agree on whether Hagenbach is now betrothed to a tavern owner named Afra. Gellner tells Wally he is, but Gellner’s a 24-carat prat whose idiotic machinations lead to Wally’s decision to marry him if he’ll kill Hagenbach, which he tries to do and fails. In the end in Act IV — yes there are four acts — Hagenbach comes into the mountains to find Wally and shouts up to her. This starts an avalanche that kills him, and Wally leaps to her death.

The libretto is based on Wilhelmine von Hillern’s tale from the Tyrolean Alps: Die Geyer-Wally (The Vulture-Wally). The rather odd name Wally is short for Wallburga, which was also the name of an English missionary, canonised on May 1, who gave her name to the term Walpurgis Nacht for the spring festival on that day. There may also have been a young woman Wallburga Stromminger, whose legend led to von Hillern’s story.

Gellner and Stromminger in Act I

The libretto is by Luigi Illica, before he started collaborating with Puccini whose theatrical sense would not have tolerated such unsympathetic characters, nor the unnecessary complexities of Act II. This is where Wally insults Afra, so Hagenbach insults Wally (but the relationship between Hagenbach and Afra is not clear, nor the extent to which the insult to Wally is fully intentional). She feels slighted so she decides to marry Gellner and have Hagenbach killed. Odd. Momentum is never quite restored after Act I, and the opera has not entered the standard repertoire despite a successful first night at La Scala in 1892. The composer, Catalani (1854–93) came from the same town as Puccini who was four and half years his junior. He was a fine musician who took over as professor of composition at the Milan conservatory after Ponchielli’s death. Greatly influenced by Wagner, he tried to match music to words, but the vocal line in this opera keeps changing and the effect is not memorable. The music is sophisticated, but perhaps unnecessarily so. For example, in Act I Wally’s friend Walter (a high soprano part, nicely sung by Alinka Kozari) launches into a song of the Edelweiss, which one might expect to be given a folk melody, but it isn’t and it’s over dramatised. Perhaps Catalani might have achieved more later, but he suffered ill health and died of TB before he was forty.

Hagenbach looked charming and was well sung by Adrian Dwyer, with Stephen Gadd performing strongly as Gellner, along with Heather Shipp as in the thankless role of Afra. Peter Robinson’s conducting was first rate, and Martin Lloyd-Evans’s production showed huge energy and commitment from everyone. I’m delighted that Holland Park has put this on, and while there are good reasons it’s not in the standard repertoire, they do a terrific job of bringing these little known operas to the public. Mascagni’s L’amico Fritz was another case in point this season, and in 2012 they will do his one-act Zanetto as part of a double bill.

See this while you can. Performances continue until August 12 — for details click here.

The Deep Blue Sea, Chichester Festival Theatre, August 2011

A shilling in the meter, for those of us who remember, was essential to keep the gas and electricity going. Awfully annoying when the money runs out unexpectedly, but in this case it saves Hester’s life. She took sleeping pills and put on the gas deliberately.

Collyer and Hester, all photos Manuel Harlan

As Mrs. Page she complains about being a ‘golf widow’, but when she’s found half gassed to death it turns out she’s really Mrs. Collyer, estranged wife of the judge, Sir William, superbly played by Anthony Calf. He’d no idea where she was living, but as soon as he’s told he comes round immediately. He still cares, very much, but has pretended not to, “I thought my indifference would hurt your vanity”. At the end of Act I we find out why she chose this moment to commit suicide. We also meet her lover Freddie Page, beautifully played by John Hopkins. He’s an ex-test pilot, ex-RAF, with good looks and charm that exceed by a long way his ability to earn a living.

Freddie Page

The ultimate failure of their relationship is inevitable, but the ending remains very much in doubt at the start of Act III, which was prefaced by music from one of Britten’s four sea interludes. Mr. Miller, the ex-doctor, very ably portrayed by Pip Donaghy, is the key to hope. He seems to understand her, “Most people commit suicide to escape. You do so because you feel you’re unworthy”. There is more where that comes from, “To live without hope is to live without despair”. Donaghy was excellent, as was Susan Tracy as Mrs. Elton the landlady. She is the epitome of common sense in this wonderful play by Terence Rattigan.

The trouble for me was that I didn’t really care whether Hester lived or died. As Mr. Miller says, “The purpose of life is to live”, but she seemed to lack a vitality that must have attracted Freddie in the first place. Amanda Root played Hester very naturally as a precise and sensitive woman caught up in an affair she thinks means everything, and you can see why she falls for Freddie, though not why he falls for her. That would seem to be an essential ingredient, and while the director Philip Franks did a terrific job with Rattigan’s Nijinsky this didn’t achieve the same theatrical impact.

Mr. Miller and Hester

A movie of this story starring Rachel Weisz as Hester is due out later this year. In the meantime performances at Chichester continue until September 3 — for details click here.

Rattigan’s Nijinsky, Chichester Festival Theatre, August 2011

Malcom Sinclair as Rattigan, all photos Manuel Harlan

This is not just a play for ballet fans or anyone who has heard of Diaghilev or Nijinsky, it’s also for Rattigan fans, as Terence Rattigan himself appears on stage, brilliantly played by Malcolm Sinclair. He interacts with the characters in his own drama, particularly Diaghilev, and at the end of Part I we hear the following dialogue between them. Diaghilev: Where are we now?  Rattigan: Thursday, May 29^th, 1913, the first night of The Rite of Spring.

This famous premiere gave the Paris audience two creations that many found hard to take: Nijinsky’s revolutionary choreography, and Stravinsky’s extraordinary score. The theatre was in an uproar and police had to be called to keep some sort of order, while Nijinsky was backstage shouting out counts to dancers who could barely hear the orchestra for all the noise. It remains the most riotous premiere in all of ballet.

Jonathan Hyde as Diaghilev

We know of course who Stravinsky was, Diaghilev too, but who exactly was Nijinsky? This play shows him as a boy applying to the Czar’s Imperial Ballet School. He’s small and was almost rejected out of hand, but his jumps were amazing, and he was the first person to do an entrechat dix. Not a six — “Any carthorse can do a six“, says Diaghilev — but a dix (a jump where the feet are interchanged in the air, with beats, five times). But technical virtuosity aside, Nijinsky was a creative genius whose first ballet, Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune to Debussy’s music of the same name was a sensation of sensuality.

In this brilliant new play by Nicholas Wright, based on a screenplay by Rattigan, we see some of the original steps for Faun, along with Rite of Spring and Petrushka. And there’s music too: snatches of these ballets and Firebird. It’s all immensely watchable.

Nijinsky had an extraordinary instinct for dance. He was the first male dancer to take a solo bow, and he talks excitedly about how a woman threw a diamond tiara to him, and he tossed it back. So what went wrong? Rattigan endeavours to tell us. He talks to his mother who recalls seeing Nijinsky in Petrushka, “He lollopped … like a puppet”. “He is a puppet”. But Mrs. Rattigan is non-plussed, and when her son tells her Nijinsky was sacked, her response “Russians are so emotional”, shows she doesn’t really get it, and she wonders why her son has never found the right woman to marry.

This is the key. It’s why Rattigan refused to allow the BBC to put on the play they’d commissioned. He received a visit from Nijinsky’s widow, Romola who knew perfectly well that her husband was bisexual, but threatened Rattigan that if he brought to light the relationship between Nijinsky and Diaghilev then she would out him as “a pervert and a man of bestial proclivities”. He couldn’t bear to be recognised as homosexual because it would overshadow his work, so he backed off. In this play we see how Nijinsky was manipulated, not least by Romola herself. She schemes to make him her husband, and later takes him to see the psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler, who diagnoses schizophrenia, a term he coined himself.

Faye Castelow as Romola and Joseph Drake as Nijinsky

There is also underhand scheming by others, including Diaghilev, brilliantly portrayed by Jonathan Hyde, who also played Rattigan’s BBC producer Cedric Messina. In body, Hyde looked more like the real life Massine than Diaghilev, but that is a minor point — his characterisation was excellent, and we are left wondering whether Diaghilev really wanted to rid himself of Nijinsky. Joseph Drake was wonderful as this extraordinary almost other-worldly dancer who believed it was God who helped him perform. Drake also played Donald the young hotel worker who fancies Rattigan. He was immensely likeable in both roles, a contrast to Faye Castelow was eminently dislikeable as his wife, the young Romola, with Susan Tracy equally dislikeable as the widow, as well as doubling up as Rattigan’s charmingly superficial mother. Lovely portrayal of the choreography by Emma Harris and Ellie Robertson.

This is not just worth seeing — it’s a must see for anyone with the slightest interest in ballet, and the creative team led by director Philip Franks and designer Mike Britton have done a wonderful job.

Performances continue until September 3 — for details click here.

The Syndicate, Chichester, Minerva Theatre, August 2011

A stylish 1960s Neapolitan Godfather who only bribes or uses force when “it’s in a good cause”, Don Antonio is still forceful at age 75, compelling immense obedience and respect. When asked to adjudicate things, he listens but he’s the one who poses the questions and persuades the two parties to a just solution.

Gavin Fowler centre, all photos Manuel Harlan

Ian McKellen

The author, Eduardo de Filippo (1900–84) was a son of Naples and a National Treasure, a celebrated playwright, and a brilliant actor famous for his pauses and light gestures. With such a remarkable actor behind the original creation, playing the main role in this drama must be a challenge, but Ian McKellen rose to it superbly. His portrayal was wonderfully sympathetic, his timing perfect.

Michael Pennington

Events start with barking dogs and noises off, after which Michael Pennington, as Don Antonio’s doctor and right hand man, appears to be the principal character, dealing efficiently with the ugly kerfuffle of a wounded man. Yet as Don Antonio enters it becomes clear who is in charge, and only at the end does Pennington take centre stage again. He was entirely convincing throughout, well aided by the other cast members who all owe allegiance to Don Antonio. Well, almost all, because one man decides to reject his well meant advice. This was Arturo, a friend from way back, well played by Oliver Cotton, showing initial strength that soon turns to narcissistic weakness and fear. Gavin Fowler gave a fine portrayal as his estranged son Rafiluccio, and Annie Hemingway showed utter plainness and emotional anguish as the son’s pregnant ‘woman’. By contrast, Cherie Lunghi as Don Antonio’s wife was pretty, charming and beautifully controlled.

The entire cast worked together in a way that allowed this drama to show what its author surely intended — a slice of life. The family is central to everything, and when Don Antonio’s attempt to reconcile father and son fails he decides to take matters into his own hands. The result is unexpected, and suddenly the play shows up the dissimulation of weak minds, who simply say what they think they’re supposed to.

As a playwright, Eduardo de Filippo insisted that the simplest means of production could produce the most impact, and is quoted as saying ‘Six meters of front stage, no more. I staged everything I wished in a few square metres like these’. This production by Sean Mathias in a new English version by Mike Poulton adheres admirably to this dictum. It’s simple and theatrically very effective — catch it now in its first performances with this wonderful cast.

Production images will be put up later, when available.

Performances at the Minerva Theatre in Chichester continue until August 20 — for details click here. It then goes on tour to: Malvern Festival Theatre, Aug 23–27; Cambridge Arts Theatre, Aug 29–Sept 3; Theatre Royal Bath, Sept 5–10; Milton Keynes Theatre, Sept 12–17.

Rigoletto, Opera Holland Park, OHP, July 2011

This was a terrific performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto in a simple but very effective staging. The set was essentially two large shipping containers, one serving principally as Rigoletto’s residence and the other as Sparafucile’s tavern.

Rigoletto after the abduction, all photos by Fritz Curzon

The first scene, of libidinous fun, with oligarchs in black tie and sexy girls in red slit skirts, worked well and never went over the top, and Monterone’s entrance and curse were powerfully done. It’s only a small role, but William Robert Allenby played and sang it for all it was worth. He was in good company with Jaewoo Kim as a stylish Duke with a beautiful voice. His soliloquy at the start of Act II showed real longing, if only of a temporary nature, yet he also managed the insouciance one expects of this libertine. His convincing charm to the ladies made it entirely understandable that Rigoletto’s daughter Gilda, and Sparafucile’s sister Maddalena should want to save his life. These darker characters, Sparafucile and Maddalena, who are willing to bend to Rigoletto’s vengeance were convincingly performed by Graeme Broadbent and Patricia Orr.

Gilda and Rigoletto

Rigoletto himself was brilliantly sung and performed by Robert Poulton. He didn’t overdo the nastiness of this character, as sometimes happens, yet his determination to take revenge came over very well when he makes the fatal mistake of telling his daughter to go home alone, after showing her the Duke’s real character. He also showed the softer side of his own character in dialogues with his adored Gilda, and Julia Sporsén sang her beautifully, very ably portraying this young woman’s emotional state in a virtual scream at the end of Act II when she admits that the Duke betrayed her but still pleads for his pardon.

Maddalena and the Duke

The production by Lindsay Posner, with designs by Tom Scutt, had some unusual and rather effective features. In the tavern scene of Act III, Sparafucile is watching football on television, and when the Duke bursts into La donna è mobile the picture suddenly changes to Pavarotti singing the same aria. The Duke grabs the remote control, presses the off-button and carries on, using the remote as if it’s a microphone — just the right point for a lighter moment. Then in the final scene when Rigoletto opens the sack to find his daughter inside she appears on top of the shipping container that served as their house, giving us a voice disembodied from the dead body in the sack. It’s a clever touch, because it always seems rather odd that Gilda can still be alive in the sack that Sparafucile hands over, let alone having the strength to sing.

Excellent conducting by Stuart Stratford with the City of London Sinfonia, and this wonderful production with its fine cast can still be seen until August 13 — for details click here.