Rigoletto In All Its Topless Glory!

I have never claimed to be an opera expert, more a man who likes what he likes but, somehow, Verdi’s Rigoletto is leaving this novice in a state of some considerable apoplexy!

At first I began my evening at Bradford’s Alhambra fearing that the Italian master would leave me clock-watching or, even worse, snoring in the stalls because, a dozen or so operas into my ‘training’, I am starting to form an opinion; I quite like Puccini but Verdi, for all his adulation, leaves me feeling somewhat uninspired and invariably groping for a tangible melody.

But my dilemma is that I am being forced to eat my words since I must confess to almost enjoying the story of Rigoletto the jester, applauding of his master, the Duke’s philandering, until he falls victim to the nobleman’s dubious activities and is forced to dine on the bitter taste of Karma, and I don’t mean the chicken variety!

Opera is, at best, melodramatic and were it not for the music, could quite easily be straight out of a black and white silent movie with its dark eye liner and dramatic glances. However, I did enjoy this Ellen Kent production for all its marginal sensationalism!

I was given advance warning from two sources that there would be topless birds on stage; one was a Golden eagle and three were Manchester lasses doubling as courtesans for the opening debauched scene in the ducal palace. Director Miss Kent also threw in a couple of greyhounds for good measure; the Duke of Mantua’s menagerie you might say!

Nevertheless, everything was quite tasteful despite the odd slice of unexpected flesh providing the occasional thrill for an unsuspecting audience. One OAP to my rear shouted in a whisper: “Oos that with her boobs out?” “It’s ‘is bit on the side love.” Silence. Plot clarified.

Rigoletto was born out of controversy as Verdi struggled to get it past the various censors of his day. It was most probably considered too close to home in that it initially criticised the behaviour of a king until the Royal became a ‘duke’ and the setting was changed.

Spanish tenor, Giorgio Meladze was suitably flawless as the lady-killing Duke and brought joy to my heart by singing La donna è mobile and creating in me one of those splendid moments when I was able to silently confide, ‘wow, I’ve heard this on a tv advert before. So, this is where it comes from?’

And I loved soprano Alyona Kistenyova, as Rigoletto’s daughter, Gilda, and the source of the final tragedy that ends in her death.

Rigoletto is a moral tale. Be careful what you sow for you will ultimately reap the fruits of your labours, be they good or questionable. It is dramatic, a little saucy and intriguing but ten out of ten to Miss Kent for pushing the boundaries and not being afraid to challenge the opera norm, even if it did take the physical charms of three ladies from Manchester!

Until Saturday17th March 2018