Opera: Rigoletto

This having been one of my weekends in Ireland, when my mother told me that Rigoletto was playing in the Limetree on Saturday, and I saw we could still get tickets, I booked. The front section was completely booked out, but I managed to get a pair of tickets in the front row of the rear section - Row O, equivalent to her favourite row in the Concert Hall (Row P): has an aisle in front of it, you see, so no heads in your way.

Last time we went to the Limetree, we ate in Quin on the way - and did the same this time. Mind you, having only made the trip once before, I had to look up my route from Quin: but it wasn't as difficult, second time round. The Abbey Tavern was busy as ever, and when we took a seat, we discovered that the owner must've been feeling the cold; the radiators were, as my mother described it, "hopping". We had our usuals, my chicken supreme a bit burnt this time, and didn't feel like dessert. My mother met a neighbour though, and had a good old chat.

What a change in the weather - it had been gloriously sunny all day, but when we went out it was lashing rain. You know, I'd brought my velvet coat to wear, but changed my mind at the last minute when I got an email from the venue that explained that this was a modern production, set in gangland, so I thought it might be overkill, and wore my duffel coat instead. Boy was I glad of that..

It's not too far to the motorway, when you know which way to go, and we were soon there. And then there was a harum-scarum drive down the motorway, visibility very low with both lashing rain, and plumes of mist rising from the road surface as the cars tore along it. I was glad to turn off at last - Junction 4 (Caherdavin), that's what I'd had to look up. Happens along just as you're beginning to get worried you're going to have to pay the toll - it's the last turning before the toll plaza. Then a straight run into Limerick city centre and onto the Dock Road, where I stopped for petrol. It was the handiest, but I was gratified not to find anywhere cheaper since!

We arrived really early, and it was handy to have been before and know where the entrance to the theatre was. As someone remarked later in the evening, this is a really badly designed building - awkward to get where you want to. I went in first, to check whether there were random chairs left around - there is no dedicated seating area here, and my mother couldn't have stood all that time! I spied two chairs, wantonly left unattended in a corridor, so brought her in and nabbed them while she was trying to figure out how to close her new walking-stick umbrella - not easy, as it turns out. (It was still lashing rain, of course.)

After a while, they set up a table on the other side of the lobby, where I bought a programme, and they were also setting up for a wine reception - I was told it was for invited guests, but I might be able to sneak a glass. But we were sat in front of where the bar was going to open at the same time as the reception started, so decided we'd stick with that. When it did finally open, it was an interesting thing to watch - a key operated a switch at the side, which lifted the canopy, and presumably turned on the recessed lights in it at the same time. The workers also rolled out four blocks on castors, and spaced them out in front of the bar. Then one felt underneath the bottom edge of each, for a light switch, as it turned out! Each lit up an image of branches, and also a letter - they spelt "lime", when ordered correctly. And it was handy that the one that said "e" was low enough to be used as a seat. Mind you, we did discover, as we were waiting, that the classrooms are left open, so you could just run in there and grab as many chairs as you wanted.

As we waited, we could listen to the lovely sound of rehearsals from the theatre, whose door had been left open. Until two idiots decided to just walk on in, before the allotted time, and the organisers decided it was better to close the doors. When they did finally let us in, we had a trek through the lobby-ful of people who hadn't realised yet that we couldn't go in - or didn't care. We needed to get around to the other side, you see, to the lift - my mother found it easier than the stairs. Actually, I think they only let people in to the upper level on that side anyway. Again, poor organisation.

After a short wait, we got the lift to the upper level, then had to schlep all the way across to the other side of the theatre again for our seats. It transpires that Row O of the Limetree has a ledge in front of it - not a railing, like the Concert Hall - and my mother developed the impression that her view was being blocked. Not really - just of the orchestra pit, and if you leaned forward you could see them too. But anyway, legroom was decent, and being at the end of the row, she had a large area beside her for dumping bags, coats and walking-stick umbrellas.

When we arrived, a tv onstage was playing ads from the 80s. They quieted down for the safety announcement, then started up again, and I did begin to wonder how long they'd continue for! The stage itself had a boxing ring in the middle, a pool table to one side, portaloos to the other. Plastic chairs were dotted about. The set actually changed very little during the entire show, except that the ropes around the boxing ring were dismantled when the action moved to outside the Duke's court.

The cleverest part of the staging was a large black box, sitting in the ring at the beginning, on which the numbers 1-10 were displayed. These represented boxing match rounds, and counted down for the duration. And just to mark the transitions, swimsuit-clad girls came on at the appropriate times, brandishing large cards above their heads that displayed the round number. As for the black box, it also acted as a projector screen, was lifted out of the way when the raised area (which was sometimes a boxing ring) was being used, and became transparent for a cleverly staged representation of Rigoletto and Gilda (outside the box) watching the Duke carrying on with Maddalena (inside the box).

The other striking feature of this production was - bunny rabbits. Yes, someone involved in the design of this show has a thing for bunnies. Yellow ones. They were everywhere. When people were performing sex acts, they often wore bunny heads. When henchmen were going around in disguise, they wore full bunny suits. When Gilda was shown at home, safe in her room, not only were stuffed bunnies scattered about (and used as a bed), but she was wearing a bunny t-shirt and bunny-ear slippers. If there was a deeper meaning to the bunnies, I think it was somewhat lost in the sniggers of the audience. But whatever.

The performance was in English, with no surtitles, so it was tricky to figure out what was being sung, and we relied heavily on the plot synopsis in the programme. But the music was original, and the singing was glorious. The general consensus was that the darker second half worked better. Kudos to the guy that played both his own role, Marullo, and that of Monterone, when the other singer was taken ill, and whatever people's reaction to the staging, kudos also to Opera Ireland for staging something a bit different. This was the first opera ever staged at the Limetree, and although the Concert Hall has a few every year, they're always Ellen Kent, you always know what to expect, there are always small children and ethnic dancers thrown in for variety. This was something new, and the standing ovation was well deserved. Mind you, it was a relief to stand, after this long show, in a theatre that had no aircon, and was far too hot.

I had to be up early today to take my mother to Mass, seeing as how we were otherwise occupied yesterday evening, so after I'd put in her Tesco order online, and checked her lottery ticket, there was no time to blog. Today, after Mass, we headed to the Peppermill for lunch. We arrived quite early, and parked close to the door - which was a good thing, with the strong breeze that had replaced the rain for now. I had the same as before - white wine and BBQ-marinated chicken - she had pink lemonade and salmon (again), which this time came with a salmon and cod fishcake. And the whole was delicious, after which we just had to have one of their phenomenal range of desserts. She had the raspberry roulade again, and enthused about it. For me, there were no fewer than two different chocolate cakes - I chose the (darker) Death by Chocolate, which is chocolate fudge, rather than the chocolate truffle. I can't recommend the place highly enough - a great range of food, all delicious, fabulous value, and friendly service.

And after we got home, I had errands to run and soaps to catch up on, so no time to blog till I got back to the flat this evening. Tomorrow, I found yet another new Meetup group running something interesting - so I joined and I'm going. The Open Rights Group (ORG) is running a  trip to a talk by, and about, whistleblowers. I don't know whether I'll make it all the way across town in time for 6.15, when they're gathering, but we'll see.