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Mozart, Le nozze di Figaro: Soloists, chorus and orchestra of the Royal Opera House. Conductor: Sir Charles Mackerras. Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 24.6.2008. (JPr)

Mozart’s 1786 Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) is surely an opera that needs no real introduction, though a little reminder of its history may still be useful. It is set in Count Almaviva's castle in Seville towards the end of the eighteenth century and is based on Beaumarchais's 1784 play La Folle journée, ou Le Mariage de Figaro, and his sequel Le Barbier de Séville (The Barber of Seville). The latter is familiar to opera audiences through Rossini's great 1816 prequel in which Count Almaviva, with Figaro's contrivance,  woos Rosina away from her old ward and would-be husband, Doctor Bartolo.

Beaumarchais continued their story and in Le nozze, the Count is now married to Rosina but their marriage is in trouble because of his philandering. Figaro is no longer a barber and is now the Count's valet,  engaged to Susanna the Countess’s maid and the Count's intended conquest. Bartolo is seeking revenge on Figaro for stealing Rosina away from him, with the help of the rather oily music-master, Don Basilio. Helping add to the fun are Cherubino, a love-struck teenager, Marcellina, a blackmailing former duenna, Antonio, a drunken gardener and Barbarina, his young daughter. This is more than enough for a ‘folle journée’ - a crazy day indeed.

Mozart’s librettist, Lorenzo da Ponte, removed the ‘political’ content that would have offended the Viennese imperial censors and faithfully translated what remained into Italian,  the usual opera language of the day. If anything deserves the epithet ‘masterpiece’ then undoubtedly Mozart's score does and he succeeds wonderfully in giving us a witty yet profound tale of youthful ardour, lost love, betrayal, forgiveness and love rekindled once more.

The most inflammatory passage in Beaumarchais’ play,  and excised from the libretto,  is a monologue by Figaro which is an attack on privilege based on birth. This is only subliminally present in Mozart’s version but what  is more central to the play’s plot, and subsequently to the opera, is the idea of droit du seigneur which allowed noblemen to sleep with their female servants on their wedding night, even though the practice had been  defunct for centuries. If Beaumarchais did not exactly see the French Revolution coming,  his play reflected what many educated Frenchmen were thinking at the time.

With matters of illicit love, passion, social climbing, alongside the responsibilities and inequalities of privilege,  Le Nozze di Figaro  has much in common with Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier which David McVicar directed recently for English National Opera. This Le Nozze di Figaro was also McVicar's, returning for a  second revival and directed by  McVicar’s movement specialist, Leah Hausman. I mention Rosenkavalier becuse when I opened the programme to see production photographs from the first run of Figaro in 2006,  I immediately recognised similarities between the two productions;  and  although McVicar's   illuminating essay in the current Figaro programme (‘A Director’s Perspective’) describes its setting as ‘a French chateau in 1830’ it seemed much more like nineteenth century Hapsburg Vienna.

I also found myself failing to agree completely with McVicar's claim that he had guided the ‘singers away from traditional comedy to a more heartfelt, painful reading of the text.’ In fact, unless the production  has been deliberately loosened up in this revival, it  is very funny indeed with many laugh-out-loud moments. Clearly however, McVicar, the Jonathan Millar de nos jours, has gone back to the original source material to emphasise the Count's lust, cruelty and anger so that when  he hits out at the Countess, the action becomes a genuinely shocking occurrence. The Count  is matched against the upwardly mobile aspirations of Figaro who is not just the ‘jack-the-lad’ charmer he can sometimes be. The bourgeoisie were soon to become the ‘ruling classes’ after the French revolution and McVicar’s Figaro seems to sense that the servant will indeed soon become the master. Even Susanna  who can often be merely ‘cute’,  is  a thoroughly engaging and feisty little vixen here. There are actually no stock operatic characters here and it is easy to imagine the production  working  well  as straight theatre. Having recently wondered about the relatively short rehearsal period for  Rosenkavalier  I can now believe that McVicar had just been too busy lately to sustain  the inventive Personregie revealed by this Figaro in which the audience’s eyes constantly catch some illuminating moment of detail. All human life really is here, shown by wonderful vignettes like an elderly maid mopping the floor, a servant sagging under the weight of a pile of laundry,  Susanna finding two dead pheasants left on the bed during the fuss over Cherubino’s commission and many others. This is a wonderful collection of memorable, if fleeting, human moments.

The production has a well-cast ensemble of singers:  though forgive me yet again for saying  that it would have been nice to see a young Briton in one of the leading roles rather than having our home-grown artists consigned to secondary characters once more. Everyone managed to shine individually at times, however. Barbara Frittoli was a slightly morose, almost tragic, Countess: her ‘Dove sono’ was a heartfelt expression of vulnerability given unexpected emphasis by an unfortunate vibrato and occasionally uncertain breath control. Peter Mattei’s imperious and snarling Count Almaviva commanded the stage with both his physical  stature and his nuanced and flexible baritone. Anna Bonitatibus’s Cherubino was irrepressible and convincing in expressing ‘his’ adolescent yearnings and masculine gait. The scene  where  Cherubino is dressed as a woman was very funny and her breathy voice made ‘Voi che sapete’ even more affecting than usually.

The very first Figaro I saw more than thirty years ago was Geraint Evans and good as  Ildebrando d’Arcangelo was, he did not compete.  He was more than a little nonchalant and whether McVicar wanted his Figaro so laid-back was at all clear.  Figaro is obviously aware of social standing, but he is certainly not content with his lot:  while not despising his master he is striving enviously to secure what the Count already has. I also found his singing just a touch more effortful than some of his colleagues particularly in ‘Se vuol ballare’. The star of the evening for me, was undoubtedly his all-knowing Susanna, Aleksandra Kurzak, whose   silvery-toned soprano and pert personality gives her an abundance of innate charm as a performer.

As indicated aready there was no weak link in the cast and Kishani Jayasinghe, one of the Jette Parker Young Artists, made another sparkling contribution as Barbarina. Veterans Robert Lloyd and Anne Murray were excellent as  the  'cunning plan' conspirators who turn out to be proud parents: their ‘Sua madre, suo padre’ scene was another highlight of the evening. There were really no minor roles at all in this production since  Don Basilio (Robin Leggate), Antonio (Donald Maxwell), Don Curzio (Harry Nicoll) and even sundry servants were played to well-directed perfection by experienced old-stagers.

In the pit,  the excellent orchestra was in the safe hands of Sir Charles Mackerras who is now in his 83rd year. Musically this was  as satisfying a Figaro as I have heard without any sense whatever of Sir Charles winding down because of his age,  because he paced the score consummately well. It was energetic, alert and flexible and was played with close attention to proper performance practice as is Sir Charles's habit. Darkness, drama, dance, and sparkle were all there when required yet he  relaxed into subtle support for such lyric moments as  ‘'Dove sono’' and Susanna's ‘Deh vieni non tardar’.

Following a disappointing Ariadne auf Naxos recently at Covent Garden,  this Figaro is a reminder of what is so great about a night at the opera where escapism, politics, humour, staging, designs and music all come together in seamless unity to be stimulating both viscerally and intellectually.

BBC Radio 3 is broadcasting this production LIVE from the Royal Opera House on Saturday 5th July at 6.30pm and a further live broadcast will take place  on Wednesday 16 July at 7pm to the ROH /  BP Summer Big Screens in Trafalgar Square and Canary Wharf, as well as on several other screens around the UK.

Jim Pritchard


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