Rigoletto – review

John Eliot Gardiner makes a rare appearance in the Covent Garden pit with this revival of David McVicar's production. He can do nothing about the monotonous grunginess of Michael Vale's sets, or tone down the leering extras who overact their way through the courtiers' scenes. But he does maintain an unusual level of control over orchestra and chorus: it is good to hear the tricky ensembles of the opening scene delivered with accuracy as well as spirit. The downside of his musical micromanagement is that some of the score's theatrical punch goes missing along the way.

That is despite some powerful performances from the principals. Dimitri Platanias offers an awe-inspiring baritone in the title role – though, like his predecessors in this staging, he looks physically inhibited by the crutches he has to use. There is not much nuance in his interpretation, nor any deep exploration of the jester's malice, but he is vocally tireless up to his final cry of despair.

Ekaterina Siurina's Gilda offers outstanding singing, with pristine tone and every note in place. Notwithstanding the patch of blood on her shirt, she stills looks and sounds immaculately poised when dying of her mortal wound in the final scene.

Vittorio Grigolo's Duke bounces around with limitless self-confidence, never walking when he can run, never running when he can leap. His buccaneering style and good looks suit Verdi's cousin to Don Giovanni perfectly. His singing is imaginative and full of daringly individual effects, nearly all of which he brings off. His curtain call is an entertainment in itself.

Matthew Rose comes over as too nice for the hired assassin Sparafucile, and Gianfranco Montresor is insufficiently commanding as Monterone, but Christine Rice makes a superb Maddalena.