Rigolettos at Lyric

More than a dozen baritones have taken the demanding lead role here. Allow us to re-introduce five of the giants who graced the Lyric stage in the company’s first 40 years.

Over 12 seasons, 16 prominent baritones have taken on the title role in Verdi’s Rigoletto at Lyric Opera of Chicago. Many will still be well remembered by aficionados, while others have proven less immortal. Still, all carry a piece of the company’s rich history with this work, which dates back to its premiere here in 1955. Of all Verdi’s baritone roles, Rigoletto’s protagonist is surely the most vocally, theatrically, and emotionally demanding. The role requires a sizable, warm-toned, wide-ranging instrument, capable of extraordinarily varied expressiveness. The singing must excel not only at full power but also in some of the most intimately scaled passages Verdi ever gave a singer. Any Rigoletto needs tremendous acting skill, as well as exceptional physical stamina. Here we take a look back at the portrayals by five titans — four Italians and an American — who graced the Lyric stage during the company’s first four decades.

The Complete Artist

This company’s unofficial “godfather,” Tito Gobbi provided wise counsel in many artistic matters during Lyric’s first quarter-century. Backstage he exuded warmth and bonhomie, while always communicating a passionate devotion to his art. From 1955 to 1973 at Lyric, he sang 21 of the nearly 100 roles in his repertoire. The Chicago Sun-Times 1955 review of his performance in the company’s first Rigoletto noted that he “gave a galvanizing performance. It was a choice piece of drama and equally honorable vocally.” He would return to the role three seasons later

Gobbi recorded Rigoletto in 1955, but any portrayal of his needed to be seen, not just heard. Although only 33 years old at the time, he’s in commanding form throughout a 1946 television film. Achingly tender in the scenes with Gilda, he also has the biting rage for the dramatic confrontation with the courtiers. Never a luxuriant or unfailingly effortless sound, Gobbi’s voice nonetheless handles each challenge comfortably, often achieving memorable beauty (for example, when Rigoletto tells Gilda how his now-dead wife had loved him, Gobbi’s singing is exquisitely sweet). In every moment his face, voice, and physicality work in perfect unity, with a truly complete portrayal as the gratifying result.

The Lion

Following Titta Ruffo’s vocal decline in the mid-1920s, Italians found their new baritone hero three decades later in Ettore Bastianini. Ruffo famously possessed “la voce del leone” (“the voice of a lion”), and the same could have been said of Bastianini, whose power and sheer density of sound were astonishing. He earned legions of admirers in Europe and America — including Chicago, where Rigoletto was the third of his seven Lyric roles from 1955 to 1965. Alas, he died in 1967, at only 43.

Bastianini’s throat cancer was diagnosed in November 1962, the same month that he sang Rigoletto at Lyric. Unaware of his condition, the critics judged him harshly — in fact, one called his singing “dry” and “monochromatic,” which is simply not true. Admittedly, in surviving recorded excerpts from that production his pitch is often questionable, and softer passages no longer come easily, but it’s clear that this is still an impressive instrument.

No video exists of Bastianini in the role, but in a 1960 studio recording, he’s simply magnificent. The voice stuns with its power and dark mahogany timbre, which are never an end in themselves — the vocalism serves the character. This is absolutely honest, unfettered singing, with the words always meaningfully inflected. The leonine sound in the “vendetta” duet with Gilda is hair-raising, but in contrast, whenever Verdi needs restraint from Rigoletto — for example, in his low-lying portion of the quartet — Bastianini is also ideal.

The American

Minnesota-born Cornell MacNeil, Lyric’s first American Rigoletto, was also the first American Verdi baritone to achieve a significant presence in Italy. Having debuted at Milan’s La Scala in 1959, he subsequently starred in Verona, Palermo, Naples, Turin, and Parma, earning huge acclaim for his imposing voice and innate sense of Verdi style.

MacNeil appeared in eight operas at Lyric over a quarter century (1957 to 1982), including two runs with Rigoletto (1958, 1965). Following his first Lyric performance as the jester — replacing Gobbi at the last moment — the Chicago Daily Tribune review commented that his Rigoletto might eventually be compared with that of another American baritone, the great Leonard Warren. The promise would soon be fulfilled, with Rigoletto becoming one of his signature roles.

More than his two studio recordings of Rigoletto, MacNeil’s 1981 Metropolitan telecast truly reveals his eminence. The 59-year-old singer’s voice has retained the necessary scale, his Italian is exemplary, and he delivers all the key moments with fervor. His vast experience in the role makes even small physical gestures telling. Watch, for example, when Rigoletto suddenly grips his daughter’s hand in their first duet, or when, thinking of her, he picks up a scarf in the Duke’s palace and barely suppresses a sob of disappointment in seeing that it isn’t Gilda’s. MacNeil delivers unusual dignity in the final dialogue with Sparafucile, contrasting with his character’s agonizing disbelief when he hears the Duke’s voice in the distance.

The Master

Revered at La Scala and everywhere else in Europe, Piero Cappuccilli starred in 10 operas at Lyric from 1969 to 1986 (all but two were by Verdi). Critics hailed his 1971 Rigoletto for the portrayal’s unfailingly beautiful vocalism. At the same time, the Sun-Times review mentioned the moment in Act Two when this Rigoletto “abandoned his jesting to ride fury and revenge on the courtiers” — it was “full-bodied and important and theatrically moving.”

Cappuccilli’s greatest strength was always his impeccable singing. He accomplished feats of masterfully smooth phrasing, the voice inevitably flowing with incomparable consistency. Many Rigolettos overreach vocally, but that was not Cappuccilli’s way. Never forcing his voice, in every instance he shows the value of truly singing rather than ranting through the role.

Those familiar with Cappuccilli’s recordings, which aren’t always sufficiently dramatic, will be surprised to watch him onscreen in a 1981 Rigoletto from Geneva. Even without detailed stage direction, he’s totally absorbed in the role. Adopting a heavy, plodding walk, he seems a deeply pathetic figure. At the palace, singing the “La ra, la ra” passage, he’s dazed, even broken, seeming hardly to know where he is. When the courtiers throw him to the floor, he begins his aria lying prostrate, singing and acting very movingly. In Act Three, when gazing at the sack and singing “Egli è la… morto” [“He’s there…dead”], his voice is almost choked with stunned incredulity. Seconds later, seeing that it’s his dying daughter and not the Duke, on the phrase “Chi t’ha colpita?” (“Who struck you?”) Rigoletto’s emotional pain — indeed, his humanity — is all there.

The Singing Actor

With a splendidly colorful instrument, plus the necessary range and style, Leo Nucci became a crucial Verdi performer beginning in the late 1970s. At Lyric he sang Verdi’s Renato (1980), Don Carlo di Vargas (1988), and Rigoletto (1990). The Chicago Sun-Times found Nucci ”superlative” as a Rigoletto who “easily dominates the stage in his big scenes.” Having already sung the role nearly 150 times by then, he was still singing it at age 74 (!) at La Scala in 2016.

Onstage in a Zurich production from 2006, Nucci’s Rigoletto shows exceptional physical and facial detail. Remarkably agile when cavorting in his jester costume, he’s also very strong physically, even pulling the sack containing Gilda’s body while sustaining a high G. He has amazingly expressive eyes, memorably reflecting the haunted quality he brings to the words “Quel vecchio maledivami” (“That old man cursed me”). There’s some effortful singing occasionally, but late in his career, Nucci still has the music fully in hand.

For the Gilda/Rigoletto scenes to touch the heart, there must be truly sincere affection between them — Verdi’s music demands it. In the Zurich production, Nucci gets this from Romanian soprano Elena Moçuc, and he responds in kind. How wonderful to watch his whole face and demeanor soften in their first duet (when leaving the house, he actually blows her a kiss). Later, at the palace, he’s desperately sad, especially when singing his heartbroken plea to the backs of the unfeeling courtiers. Like his great predecessors, Nucci never fails to reach the truth of a role that demands everything a great baritone has to give.