OPERA : ‘Rigoletto’: Vital Verdi in San Diego

Verdi’s “Rigoletto” is so melodious, so theatrical, so accessible and so familiar, some companies perform it on automatic pilot.

The Music Center Opera did something like that in a somnolent yet pretentious effort last season, conducted by Placido Domingo and staged, after a fashion, by his wife Marta. Now the San Diego Opera is having its way with Verdi’s primitive masterpiece.

San Diego’s way is better. Much better.

There are surface similarities between the two versions. Both borrow the old-fashioned, lavishly literal, undeniably imposing decors designed by Zack Brown for the Washington Opera. Both are essentially conservative in perspective.

But, where Los Angeles settled for easy cliches and hand-me-down traditions, San Diego tried a little harder.

Saturday night at the Civic Theatre, the advantages began in the pit, where Elio Boncompagni was making an auspicious local debut. The Italian conductor demonstrated daring fidelity to the law, if not the letter, of the recent critical edition prepared by Martin Chusid.

This meant opening virtually all the standard, unkind cuts (the only concession to practicality involved limiting the ducal tenor to one agitated verse of “Possente amor”). We heard the Rigoletto-Gilda duet, “Veglia, o donna,” fully developed for a welcome change, and the love music of “E il sol dell’anima” was enhanced at last with its delirious, extended double-cadenza. In the last act, the lascivious tenor was allowed to ask the evil but honorable Sparafucile for “tua sorella e del vino”--your sister and some wine--a simple request denied by the sanctimonious censors of 1851.

Boncompagni paid as much attention to the composer’s original instructions regarding phrasing and dynamics as the technical limitations and aesthetic inclinations of his cast would allow. He never confused scholarship with pedantry, however, and proved himself permissive--perhaps a bit too permissive--when it came to the interpolation of narcissistic high notes.

None of the conductor’s concern for stylistic fidelity would have meant much, of course, if it precluded a vital performance. But Boncompagni revealed a keen appreciation of the inherent dramatic pulse. He kept the rhythms crisp, the textures transparent, the momentum propulsive, and he always accompanied his singers with supportive energy. The San Diego orchestra--not exactly a virtuoso ensemble--has seldom sounded so alert. The chorus has seldom sounded so elegant.

The stage was dominated, as it must be in any successful “Rigoletto,” by the singing-actor in the title role. Haijing Fu, the Chinese baritone, was venturing this arduous challenge for the first time and, despite a few rough edges, served notice of a world-class talent.

He does not command a huge, dark, roof-rattling voice. His tone recalls the lyrical De Luca, perhaps, more than the dramatic Warren. No matter. It is a very beautiful tone: warm, open, even, well modulated and wide ranging.

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Fu seldom forces for impact, and he knows how to make the words count, knows how to pace himself in the great monologues, knows how to sing softly and caress a long legato line. He has studied in America with Phyllis Curtin; the taste, honesty and valor of his performance suggest that he has learned his lessons well.

As an actor, he savors the value of restraint, which lends dignity to the hunchbacked jester’s tragic pathos. Remember the name. Hai-jing Fu.

The local publicity blurbs claimed, by the way, that he came to San Diego “straight from the Metropolitan Opera.” That company could certainly use his services these days, but Fu isn’t even on the New York roster this season.

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The rest of the cast was uneven. Sheryl Woods brought rare dramatic sensitivity to the plight of Gilda, even when her bright and pretty soprano became edgy under pressure. Fernando de la Mora strained for top notes that invariably turned sharp, and he conveyed little sensual charm as the Duke of Mantua. Still, his vocal ardor often provided disarming compensation.

Suzanna Guzman managed to make Maddalena alluring without resorting to vamp attitudes, and Martha Jane Weaver offered a telling cameo as an unusually venal Giovanna. The others were weak: Valentin Peytchinov introduced a dull buzz-saw basso as Sparafucile, and Monterone’s mighty curse seemed all too puny as mouthed by James Scott Sikon.

Wolfgang Weber focused the drama appreciatively and moved the figures around Brown’s ornate sets with picturesque skill. He succumbed to gimmickry only with some fussy-business for Monterone’s violated daughter in the opening scene, accentuating the obvious with cheap images that previewed Gilda’s fate.

The atmospheric lighting scheme was designed by Richard Winkler. The late Jim Pringle was credited with the splendid lightning that flashed through the stormy finale.

The opera was performed, not incidentally, with four short acts and three long intermissions. There has to be a better way.