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Apelativní divadlo. Zároveň ale i zábavné, to když Vévoda dětinsky vztekle odkopává své boty, nebo když dvořané předvedou jakési kabaretní číslo: pár tanečních kroků, unisono třesení buřinkami. Alföldi dokáže v pravou chvíli situaci odlehčit, vše má přitom jakoby odposloucháno z temporytmu, z charakteru hudby.
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Róbert Alföldi leads the singers to theatrically-stylised but psychologically credible and understandable actions. Rigoletto laughs at Monterone, but weaves in and out of the Duke's courtiers, peeping after them, like a dog who is afraid and barks only when he is behind a fence. When his daughter is carried off, he throws himself on his knees in front of the courtiers, but they all disappear, leaving him alone on stage. And so Rigoletto turns with his beseeching request to the public. Appellative theatre. At the same time, it is also entertaining – when the Duke kicks off his boots in a childish tantrum, or when the courtiers perform some sort of cabaret number: a couple of dance steps, waving their bowler hats in unison. Alföldi manages to introduce light relief just at the right moment; everything takes its cue from the timing and rhythm, the character of the music. In contrast to the small comic gags, the serious, tragic moments are all the more intense: the end, for example, in which Rigoletto embraces a bloodied body, wrapped in a polythene bag, and Gilda, a white angel, stands sadly over him, saying goodbye to him (...) I found the encounter with this remarkable Hungarian director, the director of the National Theatre in Budapest, an inspiring impulse for Czech opera theatre. It provides a marked contrast to traditional opera, while offering a path that should also be acceptable to a more conservative audience.
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