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Rigoletto
By Michael Van Duzer
Opera Pacific opened their season with Verdi's dark vision of moral corruption, Rigoletto. Updated to the middle of the last century, the scenery and costumes are replete with conscious echoes of Fellini films. Not a bad choice for a story populated with wealthy hedonists and the underlings whose lives they thoughtlessly destroy. It's certainly a more viable background than the trendy "Hollywood Industry" version of the story recently presented by Los Angeles Opera.
Conceived for Opera Australia by Elijah Moshinsky, the Orange County production was carefully re-staged by Julie Edwardson. During the overture Rigoletto sits in his dressing room, making up as a clown. He opens the door and, by means of Michael Yeargan's clever revolving set, we are thrust into the gyrating frenzy of a party at the Duke of Mantua's palace. Starlets pose, flashbulbs explode, party guests cavort and within moments we drawn into the vortex of the Duke's careless world of pleasure. (Not to mention the allusions to "La Strada," "La Dolce Vita," and "8 ½".) In this world, sex and danger lurk around every corner. An assassin conveniently pops up in Rigoletto's dressing room, trusted family servants are easily bribed, and the force of a curse can ruin one man while leaving another unscathed.
Although an announcement apologized for the cold that Christopher Robertson was singing through, there were very few moments when he appeared to have any vocal distress. Robertson, scuttling spider-like on two canes, was an effective and affecting Rigoletto. He made the leap from victim to avenger without the self-serving histrionics that so often derail this role, making his final tragedy all the more poignant. His warm baritone navigated the role with focus, skill, and power to spare. As the Duke, Andrew Richards deftly managed the difficult task of making a heel charming. Just watch his childlike delight as he completes his "student" disguise with a pair of glasses. Vocally the role flatters his sweet, lyric tenor even with his unfortunate tendency to force the occasional climax. Elena Kelessidi's Gilda was a rather studied young girl and her coloratura in "Caro Nome" seemed somewhat effortful. Once she passed the innocent girl phase, however, she grew in stature both vocally and dramatically. Angela Horn was a properly sultry Maddalena and Valerian Ruminiski's Sparafucile doled out his menacing low notes with ease. Resident Artists Andrew Fernando and Chad Berlighieri were appropriately detestable as the Duke's chief courtiers while the chorus sang with fervor.
In the pit, John DeMain mined Verdi's score for all the color, depth and drama it possesses.
Performances: November 6, 8-11, 2001; Tuesday, Thursday, Friday & Saturday at 7:30PM; Sunday at 2PM at the Orange County Performing Arts Center.
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