Opera as a gladiatorial sport? You certainly would have thought so at the opening night of Rigoletto at the Arena di Verona. After some delay in the preparation of the sets for the third act, with a pesky wind not helping, Leo Nucci appeared at the side of the stage to await his entrance. Spontaneously the audience broke into a Mexican wave that went round the arena and finished up in the orchestra pit. By the third or fourth time the audience was well warmed up. When the final act eventually did begin and Saimir Pirgu launched into 'La donne è mobile' it seemed as if the audience wanted to sing along, but wiser heads quashed that idea, and the performance was allowed to proceed to its tragic conclusion.

At 71 Nucci is a phenomenon. Always the showman and clearly enjoying himself, he still has the vocal attributes to match anyone else singing Rigoletto at the moment. The fact that he can still fill the Arena with his golden baritone voice, yet also hold the audience in the palm of his hands during quieter passages, is testament to his greatness as an artist. In an environment where louder might seem to be better, he gave a lesson in refined singing - from his chilling first encounter with Sparafucile, to the tender moments with his daughter, Gilda, and the emotional ending when he discovers her death. Everything was there - comedy, love, anguish, tragedy - in a truly compelling performance. He certainly deserves the title Champion of Verona!

Nucci was not alone in offering refined singing. Aleksandra Kurzak's deeply felt Gilda was a joy to listen to, giving an achingly beautiful performance of 'Caro nome' and joining with Nucci in an exciting rendition of 'Sì! Vendetta, tremenda vendetta!' - reprised, much to the delight of the audience. Even when singing pianissimo her bell-like voice was able to fill the arena with astonishing beauty.

Saimir Pirgu was all elegance, both vocally and dramatically as the Duke. If he didn't really come across as the swaggering, bad boy of the opera, who really cared in the face of such glorious singing.

The smaller roles were all exceptionally well taken. Andrea Mastroni stood out as a chilling, cold voiced Sparafucile, while Anna Malavesi made much of Maddalena in the final act.

In the pit Riccardo Frizza gave an elegant, detailed reading of the score that lacked for nothing in terms of drama and passion, but impressed equally in the quieter, more melancholic passages. He accompanied his singers with precision, while at the same time stamping his authority on the overall musical structure of the performance. Like everything else going on onstage, it was a refined reading.

Rigoletto is not a regular at the Arena - Ingo Guerra's lavish, detailed production was last given here in 2008 - and one wonders why? This performance was a triumph from start to finish and one that showed the Arena off at its best. Gladiatorial sport maybe not, but definitely a night to remember.