It's day three of opera rehearsal for Rigoletto. I'm standing on the balcony in plain clothes but my underskirt tied around my waist. It's the first time the super* women are practicing in our skirts, and I'm glad for this, because going up and down the steps in all these ruffles takes some getting used to.
We're in the middle of the Duke's party, singers and supers scattered across the staging studio. At the piano, the rehearsal pianist attacks the keys with lovely relish, as though he's an orchestra in himself and there's an audience beyond the footlights ready to applaud. I drape my arms across the railing of the balcony, wine goblet in one hand, and watch with staged interest as the Duke and Count Monterone confront each other below.
It seems the Duke has seduced Monterone's daughter, and Monterone's here to crash the party, tell off the Duke, curse us all, and dis the canapés.
He sings:
E se al carnefice pur mi darete,
spettro terribile mi rivedrete,
portante in mano il teschio mio,
vendetta chiedere al mondo e a Dio.
And if you give me over to your hangman,
I shall haunt you as a terrifying spectre,
carrying my skull in my hands,
crying to God and man for vengeance!
Monterone is an imposing figure, a very large black man with a shaved head and a deep, deep blue baritone voice.
Sii maledetto! he sings.
Be cursed!
He throws his arms wide.
Emblazoned on his chest is a white t-shirt with the smiling faces of the Golden Girls.
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*super = supernumerary = extra
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*super = supernumerary = extra
Delightful. : )
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