San Francisco Classical Voice

Rigoletto is an opera that succeeds or fails on the merits of its antihero. In Ukrainian Stephan Pyatnychko, the company has found a baritone with an exceptionally rich and magisterial Verdi voice, except that he doesn't vary it to capture the character. His idiomatic sense of line and ability to use dynamic contrasts to shape a phrase mark him as a singer to watch. However, while never less than affecting in the lyrical sections of his duets with Gilda, he lacks a feel for Rigoletto's misanthropic rage, his violence, and he generalized many moments that build our sense of the character. He didn't scare Gilda with his outbursts in their duet in Act One, so we missed a crucial part of her motivation.

Pyatnychko can coarsen his voice — every Rigoletto does so in such pieces as the verbal flaying of the Duke's courtiers, "Cortigiani vil razza." But that is not enough. Rigoletto is a coiled spring throughout the drama, and an actor has to convey anger physically and in his demeanor as well as in his voice. Pyatnychko needs to point his ample energy at a target in order to be threatening.

Partnering Pyatnychko's Rigoletto were two excellent singers. Frank Lopardo sang the Duke of Mantua with secure tone, excellent diction, and fine legato phrasing. In his excitement, he played to the audience excessively and pushed his volume a little too hard in places. Désirée Rancatore, as Gilda, made a vivid impression in her U.S. debut. She has a well-supported voice, with a full vibrato and body to the tones in her upper range. Her pianissimos are sometimes ghostly and dry, but it was a pleasure to hear her messa da voce at the end of "Caro nome." She was appropriately girlish and impulsive, except in the coloratura parts of that aria, when she seemed to remember that she is a "soprano" and sang as if in concert rather than in character.

Of the many singers in the supporting cast, Vitalij Kowalow, in his San Francisco debut, displayed a solid, deep bass and was appropriately scary as the assassin Sparafucile. Stanislaw Schwets was disappointing as Monterone, unimposing and vocally underweight. Elena Bochorova was an elegant Countess Ceprano, Philip Horst was suave as the court poet Marullo, and Catherine Keen was both forceful and playful in a beautifully sung turn as Maddalena.

The production is as beautiful to look at as ever, with its imaginative scenery and costumes by Michael Yeargan and Constance Hoffman, respectively, and dramatic lighting by Mark McCullough. Mark Lamos' direction takes its cue from his brilliant vision of the opening scene, a marvelously grotesque carnival complete with commedia dell'arte figures. Seeing it here for the second time, I noticed a few stray lapses in judgment. Since Gilda was not gagged when she was abducted, why doesn't she cry out? Also Sparafucile should have been hiding in the shadows when Rigoletto throws out the question "Who are you?" And the repetition of the assassin's name should be like an unnerving echo of Rigoletto's thoughts. Instead Lamos had him stand solidly center stage.

The orchestra was on fire from the sharply etched prelude to the final melodramatic outburst. Verdi's effects came off brilliantly, including the spooky double bass melody that underscores the Rigoletto–Sparafucile exchange. The seamless transitions between band music and orchestral accompaniment in the first scene were nearly miraculous in their delicacy. Marco Armiliato was in complete harmony with his singers, conducting with well-judged rubato but never allowing the momentum of this fast-paced score to lag. The signs are good that with first-night chaos out of the way, the cast will settle into a rhythm and deliver more of the opera's drama.

(Michael Zwiebach holds a Ph.D. in musicology from UC Berkeley, specializing in opera, and is a lecturer for the San Francisco Opera.)

©2001 Michael Zwiebach, all rights reserved