In Bulgarian opera theatre, the name of Assoc. Prof. Dr. Nina Naydenova is associated with a type of directing that seeks not the illustration of the score, but its inner meaning. Her productions are born from a dialogue between music and space, between historical memory and contemporary sensibility, between visible action and the hidden psychology of the characters. In her work, the stage is never merely a place of action, but a field of thought in which the image turns into a sign, and dramaturgy into a moral question.
Her new production of “Rigoletto” at State Opera Ruse emerges at a particularly charged moment — between anniversary remembrance and the very real challenges facing the theatre, between the empty stage space and the richness of Giuseppe Verdi’s world. It is precisely within this contrast that Nina Naydenova finds creative freedom: the minimalism of the stage meets psychological depth, and tradition is translated into the language of today’s audience. For her, the classical repertoire is not a museum, but a living organism — one that raises questions about power, responsibility, guilt, and, above all, the right to personal choice.
In our conversation with her, the director unfolds her reading of “Rigoletto” as a drama about the human being confined within frameworks imposed by society and by one’s own fears. She speaks about the role of space as a co-author, about the image as a symbol, about working with the artists as a process of shared thinking, and about art as a form of resistance to spiritual passivity. This is an encounter with a creator who conceives opera not only as musical theatre, but as an ethical territory — a place where each production becomes an attempt to understand the human being.
“Rigoletto” is often described as an opera about curse, power, and vulnerability. What is the main philosophical theme that You chose to place at the center of the upcoming premiere?
The director always layers the dramaturgical conflicts inherent in a work — those present at the time of its creation and those of today, in the context of “now,” the time we live in. She weaves time together, sometimes across centuries, so that the audience can recognize themselves and the situations through their own experiences, leaving the performance with awakened thoughts and feelings. What is intertwined between the narrative and the stage storytelling of “Rigoletto” and is particularly relevant to our time today, in my view, is that sense of reaching a protest “outcry” against what forces a person to become what others label them. Others call Rigoletto a “jester,” and he wears the jester’s mask. Cruelty and sarcasm are not part of his nature, but he is forced to juggle them because of society’s expectation to entertain. The Duke is the “ruler,” endowed with charisma, power, and recklessness in his passions — a role assigned by social attitudes and one that strips him of sincerity and, more than that, the ability to love truly. Gilda is expected to be the “ideal daughter,” as society dictates. Yet within her burns the curiosity of a young woman, and her temptation to step beyond the “dogmas” destroys her both morally and literally. For me, this is the “curse” so deeply embedded in the dramaturgy of Hugo and in Verdi’s musical language. The curse is the lack of choice. And if I allow myself today to interpret with certainty these two authors — titans of thought and human emotion — it is that the absence of choice gives rise to violence, which makes the theme painfully relevant even today. The lack of choice for a person placed in a status quo by others — due to politics, power, social hierarchy, or even pleasures and entertainment — leads to the suppression of emotional and personal freedom. Furthermore, as a form of self-protection and due to the paranoia born of societal expectations, a person exposes their sarcastic bitterness. Often, this turns not only into cruelty toward society but also toward those closest and even toward oneself. One self-destructs, both spiritually and physically — this is the life logic, and the logic of the genius drama of Verdi and Hugo, which the art on stage transforms into a mirror of our time, reminding us of how many examples of cruelty exist and prompting reflection.
What does Rigoletto represent to You as a character today — a tragic father, a moral judge, a victim of the system, or an accomplice within it?
An exceptional question. I would say that all four of these interpretations could withstand the test of the audience’s reading, especially in their synthesis with one another. Yet within the context in which I develop the theme of the “lack of choice,” I view Rigoletto as the Human Being who bears the burden of serving vice and fails to find the strength to make a different choice, thereby losing what is human within himself. I would like to justify him, and in the stage narrative I create situations that allow for this, but at the same time he does make a choice by choosing to kill, albeit through another. A person driven by revenge and bitterness turns against himself, and at the moment when he is forced to choose which path to take, he often chooses the wrong one. This is a law of life that we frequently forget. Revenge is equal to self-destruction.
In this production, the Renaissance is not recreated literally, but rather psychologically and emotionally. What does this distance from historical literalness give You as directorial freedom?
The Renaissance is one of the most explosive intellectual events in human history – a moment when Europe quite literally changes its direction. If the Middle Ages represent a world ordered around religion and tradition, the Renaissance is an explosion of curiosity, self-confidence, and a spirit of discovery. Human beings become capable of independent thought, of seeking knowledge and self-improvement. This marks a radical turn away from the medieval notion of the human being as a small part of the divine order. And it is precisely for this reason that the Human Being gains the courage to search for personal choice and to defend it. The Renaissance celebrates individualism, yet the real person of the 15th–16th century rarely has the opportunity to choose their own destiny. Freedom exists as an ideal, not as everyday reality. It manifests itself in texts, paintings, philosophy – but not in the lives of most people. Here lies the central dramaturgical conflict in “Rigoletto” – the characters are victims of their own shackles, and that Renaissance audacity does not truly exist within them, except perhaps in Gilda’s longing to love and to cross the boundaries imposed upon her, and in the Duke, who dares to fall in love but is incapable of standing up for that love. In order to bring this dramaturgical contrast to the surface, we sought Renaissance techniques in the visual language of the production. Together with the designers Elitsa Georgieva (set) and Yana Dvoretska (costumes), we use literal quotations from Renaissance paintings – the feast of the flesh as eros, still-life imagery translated into living tableaux through the actors’ mise-en-scène. A single piece of furniture – a table – on which a feast unfolds as a still life of female bodies and where the courtiers reveal their conspiracy, transforms into an altar of candles laid by Monterone’s violated daughter, then turns into a bed of lust between the Duke and the gypsy Maddalena, and finally becomes the place of death – a grave over which Rigoletto mourns his murdered, and ironically by his own hand, daughter. Feast – altar – bed – grave. The table becomes a visual image in itself, reflecting the Renaissance approach to meaning and transformation.
The not fully restored stage of the Ruse Opera is an active participant in the production. How does the space influence Your directorial concept and dramaturgical decisions?
Space gives birth to ideas. In this case, precisely this asceticism of the stage after the fire, stripped and somehow purified – free for the layering of expectations – is a rare opportunity. We enter the space with the set design in a very unobtrusive way, using a combination of contemporary approaches that allow transparency across all planes, together with architectural elements of columns and the ornamentation of the period. Here, the main emphasis falls on the costumes, which clearly carry a historical reading, yet are reduced to silhouette, because the “silhouette – shadow” is also a sign-image within the performance. We also rely on minimalist lighting – the limited lighting that remained after the fire is conceived as part of the concept. A single beam in the darkness, the bare stage walls, the source of light coming from numerous candles, the shadows cast on the walls – all this shapes the sense of dramaturgical tension and the absence of an exit – of choice.
Not long ago, You staged a remarkable “La Traviata” for the 75th anniversary of State Opera Ruse on the stage of the Dohodno Zdanie. And now we are marking another anniversary – 70 years since the opening of the building of State Opera Ruse in 1956. You are once again working with a team with whom You share a deep emotional bond. How does all of this reflect on Your work?
I am grateful to the director, Plamen Beykov, for inviting me to direct “Rigoletto”, one of the most frequently performed and staged operas, which will be part of the series marking this anniversary. I am fully aware of what it means for a theatre, within the span of just a few months, to prepare and present three consecutive premieres – a ballet production, Verdi’s Rigoletto, and *Eugene Onegin by *Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky – the very first production with which the opera house building was inaugurated. This represents an extraordinary effort by all the artists, workshops, administration, and technical staff, driven by deep respect for the history of their own opera theatre. It is an act worthy of admiration, especially at a time when culture is clearly not a priority and is, on the contrary, placed in a position where it must once again literally prove its importance for the shaping of our society. As a director, I find myself genuinely inspired to work with the artists – the choir, soloists, and ballet of State Opera Ruse – always curious and devoted in carrying out directorial ideas. These are artists who set aside conditions and comfort in order to create meaning for their audience.
The production team is well known – Elitsa Georgieva and Yana Dvoretska. Both artists have more than one production on this stage. Our work would not be perceptible beyond images and sound if this team did not also include the remarkable, deeply devoted, and exceptionally demanding choir conductor Steliyana Dimitrova - Hernani. For the first time, I am also working with the principal conductor Dimitar Kosev, about whom I have heard only positive feedback, and I am convinced that his musical interpretation will be significant for the overall artistic conception of the production.
How do You guide the soloists in shaping their characters – more towards inner psychological motivation or towards symbolic, generalized theatrical gestures?
In my productions, the choir carries an important collective image, against which the principal characters almost always have the opportunity to display pronounced psychological motivation. I try to find a directorial sign as well, again a hallmark of my concepts, through which the entire story can be told. In this case, I have highlighted only one character mentioned in the opera – Monterone’s daughter – turning her into a central figure for the dramaturgical narrative. I create the possibility of two mirrored pairs – Monterone and his daughter, as well as Rigoletto and his daughter. Two fathers with shared fate. The implications become stronger and more symbolic. The sign, derived from the logic of the narrative, is important to me in operatic dramaturgy because it facilitates the audience’s perception of the language of music, and also of the foreign language in which the work is performed. It often also helps to establish a clear concept within the intricately woven intrigues of the opera libretto. Here I must note that the soloists I work with are outstanding professionals. They enter their characters convincingly, truly moving the audience, and even in a single black rehearsal, there are eyes filled with tears. I believe that Dobromir Momekov, Alexander Krunev, Boris Lukov, Mihail Mihaylov, Daniela Karaivanova, Momchil Milanov, and Gloria Pencheva, as well as all the smaller but very important roles, will convey this acting power in a moving and truthful way to their audience.
“Rigoletto” is a work that the audience knows well. How do You balance respect for tradition with the need for a new, contemporary interpretation?
A deep historical and psychological analysis, in which You uncover the motivation of the characters placed not only within the circumstances of the plot’s time but also within the context of today, linking it all through the cause-and-effect logic established by the author. This is the formula that justifies the directorial exploration. Everything else would be self-serving. The director transmits an emotional code across time – the author’s emotional code and the logic of their creative search – to the audience. Along the path of emotion and meaning, it is inevitable that the director, the team, and the performers will layer additional emotions and messages important to them. Yet, true art, in my view, is when we all serve the author’s idea faithfully, because it is precisely this idea that has transformed their work into a classic, a piece that moves audiences in every era.
What would You like the audience to take away with them after the performance – as an emotion, as a question, or as an inner experience?
“Rigoletto” is a strikingly powerful drama. Our messages will have meaning if, in some way, we manage to make our audience not only sympathize with the fate of the characters but also understand the “curse” not as a life sentence, but as an opportunity to discover their own choice – their own way out. One’s personal “justice” is a choice that must be sought through the obstacles along the path and despite the expectations of others. But how, and whether, You impose this “justice” at all costs, and upon or against another, is also a choice – sometimes the most important one, for Your existence and for Your well-being as a human being.
