Overall, I thought Mears’ 'Rigoletto' gave the audience everything they could hope for from a night at Covent Garden - which is of course fantastic given that it will be replacing a previous production by David McVicar, which will be nearly a decade old. However, I didn’t feel it exceeded (or perhaps disrupted) expectations in the way the themes in the opera provided an opportunity for in today’s context. I will get to that a bit later. 
ROH/Ellie Kurttz
First, the costumes were excellent. Following the gorgeous opening tableau, I was a little nauseated by them during the party scene, but such forced embellishment and glamour helped to introduce the kind of people in the Duke’s court, as well as the Duke himself. Here, idealised masculinity and material wealth rule alongside him. Later, the subtle differences in the costumes of the courtiers were well considered and meticulous. Rigoletto’s simple suit worked well. (I also appreciated the assassin’s scalp tattoo..!)
The transitions between scenes were varied and masterful and felt as choreographed as the human elements onstage. For example, Rigoletto’s journey down to the river with his daughter’s body was utterly cinematic as the assassin’s house pulled away like a panoramic shot. The fluid scene changes meant that the world of this opera felt dynamic and unrelenting, as though we the audience were whipped up into the Duke’s exploits as much as the unfortunate characters. 
The chorus also, heightened this feeling. They were hypnotically coordinated and at times unnerving in their togetherness. They seemed to embody one great arm through which the Duke could enact his will. If I had to pick which ‘character’ I found the most engaging in this production, it would be the character of the courtiers. They simultaneously each had individual life and eerie unity.
I thought Lima Holdsworth's set aptly painted the world of the opera behind the proscenium arch – but also let it creep beyond it: as the Royal Opera House’s curtains, barley sugars, and lavish architecture became an extension of the duke’s palace (I also assume this is why the red embroidered velvet was removed for the final scenes, in grotty downtown, away from the palace).
Aside from the embellishments, the Palace was cavernous, filled mostly with an enormous painting or two, which made me consider an emptiness that the Duke could only fill with parties, ill behaviour, and expensive, two-dimensional artworks. Their double-use as masking seemed symbolic, and their two-dimensionality was also juxtaposed by the opening tableau.
Furthermore, the sense of peace and clarity that emanated from the upper window into Gilda’s room provided sole respite from all this - which made it even more devastating when Duke’s courtiers clambered up and in. The invasion of this calm sanctuary a visual metaphor for Gilda’s own loss of innocence. 
Finally, I did feel some of the more brutal aspects of Gilda’s fate were breezed over as simply part of the story. It’s no secret that opera as a genre is full of misogynistic plot lines, gender roles and double standards. This opera presents a city where a favour for the hyper-masculine, and the cis-heterosexual appetite runs riot: and the stomach-churning consequences thereof. But there seemed to be greater scenographic emphasis on Monterone’s eye-gauging at the start than the kidnapping, potential rape (or even …gang rape?) that befell Gilda. Aside from a bottle of wine, we had little insight into the assassin’s sister’s plight as bait for her brother's victims, and as beautiful as Gilda’s sanctuary was, we had to implicitly go along with the fact that a months-long imprisonment (as instructed by her father) was the natural solution to her compromised safety.
I believe the opera poses some more creative opportunities to elicit empathy for Gilda and other female characters, and in a more contemporary production for today’s society, could hold a mirror up to audiences and show them how their own possible assumptions about women stem from the same seed as the Duke’s foul (mis)understanding of the world. 
That said, perhaps that was the very point Mears was making. In the city onstage, women have no voice, no perspective of their own, and there is little sympathy for them. But, sitting comfortably in the stalls, surrounded by suited, powerful men on opening night, and partaking in the identity-affirming ritual of opera (and a very good one, at that), I think I would have enjoyed being challenged to see how the Duke’s city onstage just might be a reflection of our own.

Christian Hey, September 2021.