When I arrived in Mersin, one of Türkiye’s beautiful southern cities, the sea was calm and the sky overcast. Inside me, however, the orchestra’s opening chord had already begun to sound. After a quiet walk along the waterfront, I made my way to the cultural center on Jan. 24 to attend a performance of Rigoletto, a masterpiece by Giuseppe Verdi, one of the 19th century’s most celebrated Italian composers.

Rigoletto marks the beginning of Verdi’s mature period and stands as the first major pillar of the core trilogy later completed by "Il trovatore” and "La traviata,” works that shaped the modern operatic repertoire. As I entered the opera house, questions weighed on my mind. In this serene southern city, with its limited resources, would the artists be able to present a composition that truly served the work? When I failed to find a printed cast list in the foyer, my enthusiasm for attending opera in Mersin met its first disappointment.

Once the opening gong sounded, the orchestra began with a flexible yet coherent tempo, offering a guiding musical framework for the evening. The director’s grasp of the narrative further gave me hope. In a work where drama and music are so tightly interwoven, I found myself forming impressions (both positive and negative) regarding vocal technique and role construction. All in all, it was an experience marked by strong contrasts.

It is appropriate to begin with Caner Akgün in the title role. Musically, Akgün appeared well prepared; however, the fierce, seat-gripping outbursts expected of Rigoletto were largely absent from his lyric baritone. As a result, he fell short of the role’s dramatic demands, diminishing its weight and sense of menace. His handling of piano-forte dynamic contrasts, particularly in the second half of "Cortigiani, vil razza dannata,” was weak, resulting in a monochromatic delivery throughout the evening and a loss of authority in the character.

He struggled to control the rhythmic precision of the aria’s opening section, where anger and accusation must be sharply articulated. In the second section, as the music collapses into supplication, he reduced the voice to piano but dropped support from the mask, losing resonance and tonal focus. Signs of strain appeared in the upper register. Throughout his stage time, Akgün either resorted to excessive shouting (diluting the drama) or softened the character to the point of toothlessness. Though his singing may have appeared tidy on the surface, his voice failed to project over the orchestra in louder passages. Conductor Andrea Francesco Solinas made notable efforts to rein in the orchestra to piano in these moments.

Dramatically, Akgün seemed to follow a personal concept of the role, yet remained disconnected from his colleagues. Onstage, he often appeared as though wandering alone, singing independently of the dramatic situation. Eye contact with fellow performers was minimal, and he frequently sang toward the audience without regard to spatial relationships. Wearing a plastic hump, he nonetheless embodied Rigoletto as a physically healthy man; the character’s deformity and inner fracture were never fully inhabited.

In sum, Akgün delivered a performance lacking credibility both vocally and dramatically. While I can understand his desire to remain onstage after becoming director of the Istanbul Opera, the frequency of his appearances (both in his own house and as a guest elsewhere) has been surprising. Given that there are at least 10 baritones in Türkiye better suited to Rigoletto, I would recommend that, if he insists on performing, he turn instead to the Mozart repertoire.

As the Duke, Adnan B. Dabakoğlu made a promising start with "Questa o quella,” delivering a light, flexible legato with a conversational flow. While he conveyed the character’s impatience and frivolity effectively, he struggled to sustain emotional depth and lyricism in later arias. In "Possente amor mi chiama,” he failed to balance power and defiance. When attempting to express agitation through vocal sharpness, intonation issues emerged. That said, the high B natural on "Pensier” at the end of "La donna è mobile” inspired confidence. He was among the stronger performers of the evening, though I could not help thinking he might have been better cast in a Rossini tenor role.

Turning to Gilda, it must be said that Zerrin Capelli was the evening’s greatest disappointment. Verdi conceived this role for a lyric-leggero or coloratura soprano, requiring brightness, youthfulness and agility. Capelli lost vocal strength in the upper register and lacked fluency in fast passages. While she initially conveyed the character’s innocence, she failed to transition vocally into the passion and tragedy demanded later in the opera.

In "Caro nome,” the coloratura embellishments were insufficient; high notes lacked support and the middle register wavered. Persistent intonation problems clouded the sound, preventing Gilda’s youthful timbre from reaching the audience. Capelli’s performance made clear that she was not an appropriate choice for this role.

By contrast, Serkan Sevinç offered one of the evening’s strongest performances as Sparafucile. With a richly colored bass voice and convincing stage presence, he emerged as a promising young talent. Though the role is brief, he succeeded in concentrating the opera’s dark axis upon himself. From his first encounter with Rigoletto in Act I, his coldly delivered lines were stable, grounded and menacing. Through measured vocal delivery, clear diction and a consciously restrained energy, he transformed Sparafucile’s darkness into authority. In short, he was excellent, and I would welcome seeing him in larger roles.

Özlem Pamuk, however, stood out unequivocally as the best performer of the evening. With her dark-hued mezzo-soprano and fluid acting, she shone as Maddalena. Though her stage time is limited, she became the dramatic engine of the third act. She demonstrated strong ensemble discipline, quick responsiveness and a vocal approach that carried both text and character. While flirting with the Duke, she infused her voice with seductive color while simultaneously projecting irony and defiance.

In "Bella figlia dell’amore,” her brief, barbed interjections, delivered with bright, colorful tone, perfectly undercut the Duke’s seduction, integrating seamlessly into the quartet. In her exchanges with her brother, her insistence was rendered with dramatic clarity. I would very much like to see her in larger roles; I believe a significant future awaits her.

Andrei Yevtushenko, as Monterone, had no major aria, portraying instead an angry but dignified father seeking justice for his daughter. In his brief curse motif against Rigoletto’s mockery, his accents were well placed. Though not at the level of his performances in previous seasons, he conveyed menace without hardness and remained committed to the role, presenting a convincing portrait of an aging, wounded nobleman.

Yusuf Z. Büyükaslan fulfilled his duties effectively as Count Ceprano, his dark, theatrically colored voice lending weight to the character. In ensemble passages, his brief vocal interventions intensified the dramatic texture. As a jealous and unsettled husband, he delivered his barbed lines sharply yet with control, maintaining balance within the orchestral texture.

Viktoria Medunka contributed effectively as Countess Ceprano, offering a bright yet aristocratic tone and solid acting. In her brief lines amid the crowd, she helped expose the Duke’s predatory attitude toward women.

As Giovanna, Dilara Yanar portrayed Gilda’s nurse with a rounded, full tone that conveyed reliability. Her brief but decisive lines during the bribery scene were delivered with a cooled, restrained color, avoiding exaggeration. Despite the absence of a solo aria, she was among the evening’s stronger contributors.

In the supporting role of Marullo, Mehmet Erkoç made a notable dramatic impact as a courtier. His dark baritone was a pleasure to hear, and at one point I could not help wondering whether he might have offered a stronger Rigoletto.

Kerem Yaman impressed with his bright, engaging voice and effective portrayal of Borsa. By infusing a slippery, ironic undertone into the character’s courtly lightness, he brought rhythmic clarity to his scenes. He neither overplayed the role nor swallowed the text. With further development, Mersin Opera may gain a valuable tenor.

As Usciere, Hüsamettin Özçelik managed stage traffic and court order efficiently with concise, disciplined delivery, contributing effectively to the opera’s dramatic tone, while Ayşe T. Laçinbala, as Paggio, demonstrated clean articulation and a clear, streamlined timbre well suited to the courtly atmosphere.

Conductor Andrea Francesco Solinas delivered one of the evening’s strongest contributions. With a flexible yet consistent tempo, he maintained control over both score and orchestra. His singer-friendly approach absorbed many of the principal artists’ technical shortcomings, an effort deserving special applause. Rather than treating the orchestra as an obstacle to be overcome, he shaped it as a supportive current, lively in court scenes and elastic in domestic ones. In the third act, his clear rhythm and controlled rubato heightened the final tension.

Director Kenan Korbek succeeded in conveying the depth of the narrative. His use of the revolving stage was effective, though the decision to remove Rigoletto’s prosthetic hump struck me as unnecessary. Up to that moment, the production followed a classically inclined aesthetic, only to veer suddenly into postmodern symbolism. While one might interpret this as a metaphor for Rigoletto becoming a "complete” father in his daughter’s presence, it ultimately disrupted the opera’s integrity. I also question whether Rigoletto’s disconnection from other characters in duets and crowd scenes stemmed from directorial choices or the soloist’s own approach, as it impaired dramatic flow. That said, Korbek’s analytical clarity and ability to communicate the story to the audience deserve commendation.

The chorus merits special praise. Despite limited numbers and resources, their discipline and command of the work were exemplary, surpassing even the Ankara Opera chorus I heard in recent weeks. Both the choristers and chorus master Anıl Aydın deserve congratulations.

I found Özlem Topuz’s costumes effective in reflecting the period, and commend her particularly for their successful integration with the revolving set. Lighting was generally effective in the main staging, though lacking in nuance; a limitation likely tied to local resources. Still, lighting designer Tarı Deniz deserves recognition.

In conclusion, I commend the director of Mersin Opera for maintaining stage discipline among the artists. The chorus, orchestra and local soloists clearly invested the necessary effort. However, it bears noting that since the pandemic, Mersin Opera has ceased printing cast sheets. Audiences expect them. I would like to remind director Serbülent Biçer that he is running an opera house.