London’s Royal Opera Lost Its Soprano. It Had 36 Hours to Find a New One.
‘Rigoletto’ diva’s sudden illness was do-or-die opportunity for a singer from Madrid
Sabina Puértolas performs during the Gran Teatre del Liceu 20th Anniversary Celebration last February in Barcelona. PHOTO: XAVI TORRENT/GETTY IMAGES
Singer Sabina Puértolas was buying groceries in Madrid when her agent called with a question. Would she like to perform one of opera’s most prestigious roles on a world-famous stage?
Yes, she said, of course, when?
Sabina Puértolas
Tomorrow, the agent replied, with Ms. Puértolas as Gilda in a production of Giuseppe Verdi’s “Rigoletto” at the Royal Opera House in London, one of the company’s biggest, most popular titles.
Last week’s sudden illness of the diva originally cast as the heroine confronted the Royal Opera with a crisis every director dreads. How do you find a really good soprano on short notice who already knows the music and can quickly figure out the rest?
A continentwide scramble resulted in Ms. Puértolas racing to London to appear with a co-star she had never met on a set she had never seen. All before an audience of more than 2,000 who had paid as much as £185 ($250) to see someone else.
Seated in the balcony, opera aficionado John Darlington had his doubts as soon as he heard the announcement of a replacement singer. “My heart sank,” he says.
Ms. Puértolas’s two previous Royal Opera House appearances were in smaller roles, such as Lisette, center, in Giacomo Puccini’s ‘La Rondine.’ PHOTO: NIGEL NORRINGTON/EXPRESS NEWSPAPERS/ASSOCIATED PRESS
Ms. Puértolas, a rising Spanish soprano, got her make-or-break opportunity after the Royal Opera House learned on Jan. 3 that Lucy Crowe, a well-known British soprano, was unable to perform that night. Her exact health problems weren’t disclosed, but no stand-in was available when Ms. Crowe canceled.
When conductor Alexander Joel arrived at the 19th-century London opera house for an afternoon rehearsal, the first thing he heard was, “we don’t have a Gilda,” he recalls. He began calling singers he knows all across Europe.
Some didn’t have the visa to work in Britain. Others were booked. Mr. Joel says at least a dozen calls were made, though the Royal Opera says only that a number of possible fill-ins were discussed.
The predicament isn’t unheard of in the opera world, which teems with offstage drama. In 2006, tenor Roberto Alagna left the stage of the storied Teatro alla Scala in Milan in the middle of a scene in “Aida” after being booed. A representative of Mr. Alagna says he was feeling unwell. The tenor’s stand-in finished the opera while wearing jeans.
Last June, Ioan Hotea was in the audience at Gaetano Donizetti’s “L’Elisir D’Amore” in London when the lead tenor dropped out during the first act. Mr. Hotea, the tenor’s stand-in, had 10 minutes to put on his costume.
“I didn’t know any of the movements, and when I got out on stage, I was completely lost,” says Mr. Hotea. “The conductor gave me signs with his hands where to go.”
“Rigoletto” is a 19th-century thriller about cursed love, kidnapping and murder, and features arias such as “La donna è mobile,” also known as advertising music for Doritos and tomato paste.
“It’s a big production, and you want to rehearse it beforehand,” says Greek baritone Dimitri Platanias, who was playing Rigoletto.
Theatrical agent Alex Fernandez was in a hotel room in Córdoba, Spain, when the Royal Opera called at about 5 p.m. He immediately called Ms. Puértolas, who was shopping with her 12-year old son.
“Are you sick?” Mr. Fernandez asked. She answered: “No, why?”
The agent said: “Are you sure you’re fine?” She replied: “Yes, but why?”
Mr. Fernandez got to the point. “OK, you’re flying to London tomorrow morning to sing Gilda at the Royal Opera House,” the agent recalls telling his client. She was so shocked that she shoved her shopping cart away.
Sabina Puértolas as Gilda in 'Rigoletto' at the Teatro Municipal de Santiago in Chile in July 2017. PHOTO: PATRICIO MELO
Born and raised in Pamplona in northern Spain, Ms. Puértolas has been singing opera since she was 15. She was Gilda several times in smaller opera houses around Europe. Her two previous Royal Opera House appearances were in minor roles.
“I know Gilda. But this was the Royal Opera House,” she says.
First, though, she had to deal with problems closer to home. Her husband, an airplane pilot, was flying to Bolivia that day. Her mother was on vacation.
Once a babysitter was on the way, Ms. Puértolas tried but failed to get some sleep before a London-bound flight at 8:25 a.m. on Jan. 4. She reached the opera house shortly after 11 a.m. and was rushed into a rehearsal room.
Mr. Joel, the conductor, had to explain how to navigate the set, a palatial facade that revolves to reveal the interior of Rigoletto’s home. “I had to show her pictures and videos,” he says.
At 6 p.m., or 90 minutes before the opera’s scheduled start, Ms. Puértolas was getting her makeup and wig adjusted. Gloom set in. She worried the performance might go so badly she would never sing at the Royal Opera House again.
Mr. Platanias, Gilda’s onstage father, walked into Ms. Puértolas’s dressing room. They had never met. “We will help each other, right?” she asked.
“Yes, we will,” he replied.
As the audience took its seats, the program still featured Ms. Crowe in the role of Gilda, though the Royal Opera printed the casting change on paper slips. The lights dimmed. Instead of the conductor stepping out, an opera’s traditional start, an official took the stage to announce Ms. Puértolas.
“I thought it can’t be good. I had no idea who the replacement was,” says Clémence Rebourg, who had been late settling into her seat.
Ms. Puértolas says her heart was racing. Then she recalls telling herself: “I am Gilda. I am not Sabina. Sabina is back at the hotel.” She walked onto the set for the first time.
Mr. Platanias felt a burst of optimism. “We are not robots. We are humans,” he says. American tenor Michael Fabiano, who played Gilda’s love interest, the Duke of Mantua, adds: “The opera must always go on.”
Near the end of the first act, Ms. Puértolas stepped up to deliver the opera’s most challenging aria, “Caro nome,” punctuated with an array of high notes. When she finished, the crowd erupted. “It was absolutely wonderful,” Ms. Rebourg says. Near the end of the three-hour opera, the curtains fell. Ms. Puértolas got a standing ovation, leaving her in tears.
After expecting so little from his balcony seat when the substitute soprano was announced, Mr. Darlington was moved by what he calls her “splendid” performance. “Knowing about her ordeal made it even more poignant.”
With two days until the next performance, Ms. Crowe recovered and retook her leading role. Ms. Puértolas stayed in London for two more nights in case she was needed. She wasn’t. On Sunday, she flew home to her son, husband and dog.
Write to Georgi Kantchev at georgi.kantchev@wsj.com
Appeared in the January 13, 2018, print edition as 'An Opera Lost Its Soprano— It Had 36 Hours to Find Another.'
