Le Nozze di Figaro at the MET

by John Yohalem

OPERA TODAY

The best news about the Met’s eleven-year-old Jonathan Miller production of Le Nozze di Figaro is that it has been restaged by Gregory Keller, more tautly spun, many elegant jokes or character moments inserted, several idiocies discarded and with plenty of room remaining for singers with a flair for it (such as Luca Pisaroni and Isabel Leonard) to invent comic business of their own.

I’m particularly pleased that the ring is in its proper place at the final curtain. Remember the ring? (as Anna Russell would say.) This ring is the diamond the Count gives Susanna in the dark in Act IV, as down-payment on her imminent seduction, never realizing that it is not Susanna at all but his own wife on whose finger he has placed it. Subsequently, at the end of the opera, when all stratagems are unveiled, the Countess shows him the ring is on her finger — and only then is he forced to face, and publicly repent, his follies — which she forgives — appropriately concluding this longest and most sublime of buffo operas. In Miller’s original staging — in keeping, perhaps, with that gentleman’s professed disdain for sentimental tradition — she did not show her husband the ring, and he had no reason to believe she was the woman he had wooed in the dark. In other words, though we knew who was who, the Count never found out and we never knew what or whether he was repenting. The heavenly ending became acrid, uncertain, irritating. There was no resolution. Why bother? Why bother ending the music in the proper key? Why not stop five bars short at some other note? Because all things are synchronized here, as Mozart and da Ponte designed them to be, and the palace of Aguasfrescas becomes an idealized version of our own imperfect world, that’s why. Anyway: the ring is now on the right finger, shown to the right man at the right moment, and all’s that much righter with the world.

Another nice touch: Susanna and Marcellina symbolize their new friendship when they bump heads while heading out the same door in Act III — and we are reminded of their feud to the death back in Act I — but this time, as allies, they burst into giggles and squeeze through arm in arm. The effect may be borrowed from Verdi’s Falstaff (and he set it to music there), but it wasn’t an original bit with him either: Figaro, like Falstaff and so much great humane comedy, is about irreconcilables who forgive and reconcile. The audience also loved it when Susanna demonstrated the way a “lady” sashays, and “masculine” cross-cross-dressed Cherubino imitated her — but the audience (and I) loved that silly flounce when my grandmother took me to my first Figaro forty years ago.

Whoever is running the surtitles this year, by the way, is clever enough to know when to let them go dark — so the audience is obliged to look at the stage — and the laughs may come from the activity going on there — and they do.

I wish I’d liked the music-making of this revival half as much as I enjoyed the mugging. None of it was less than major house quality, but few moments transported me. Ah, where have they gone? Those sweet moments of joy and pleasure?

Le nozze di Figaro: The Metropolitan Opera, New York, 22nd September 2009

by Adam Marguiies

OPERA BRITANNIA

Le nozze di Figaro has the strange capacity to engage on every level from the ridiculous buffoonery of stock commedia dell’arte, to the über-emotional and truly tragic moments of love and betrayal. Scholars have noted that it is due to the ingenuity of Da Ponte and Mozart that opera buffa came to full maturity as a respectable art form. Until the collaboration of these two geniuses, opera buffa was dependent upon the use of fantastical slapstick, and even in the few instances where tragedy and comedy were intertwined into one evening’s entertainment, it was never presented in one character; herein lies the genius of a work like Le nozze di Figaro. Comedy and tragedy are really two sides of the same coin, and what one might perceive as a tragedy, another might find as terribly funny.

Evaluating the situations in Le nozze di Figaro could very well leave one struck by the gravity of events in this household. The issues vary from the relationship between man and woman, between master and servant, sexual rights, and harassment, all in the context of a decaying social backdrop, unknowingly ready to erupt. It is profoundly political, as well as being terribly amusing. How many operas of this vintage, which rely so heavily on satire, have aged quite so well?

All of the events and all of the people in this opera, though they seem distant from our world, are genuine in one form or another, as opposed to mere one-dimensional caricatures whose sole purpose is to adumbrate a witty and engaging plot line, without reference or feeling to the loftier ideals of such a piece as this. These characters are all used by Mozart, Da Ponte and Beaumarchais to give commentary on the society in which they were living. After all, the name Figaro comes from the French “Fils Caron,” (pronounced: “fee karo”) meaning son of Caron, Caron being Beaumarchais’ actual name. In his world, if you were not of noble blood, then you had to survive by relying on your wits.

Jonathan Miller’s beautiful period production set in the 18th century, gave us a staging and direction that were of the highest possible caliber. The sets and lighting, clearly designed with sensitivity to both the time span and the highly stylized fashions of the day, could not have been more refined. Using bright flood lights in Acts I and II to denote day time, and warm candle light balanced with dark filters of blue light for Acts III and IV, it successfully convinced the audience that the action did indeed take place during a single “folle giornata” or “The Day of Madness”, as the opera is known by its alternative title.

The staging, now under the direction of Gregory Keller, gave weight to both the comic and tragic aspects of the opera, thankfully with a bit more emphasis on the comedic side of the scale. There were of course the stock-stage actions so ubiquitous in every Figaro production, such as the always amusing merry-go-round of the chair, which miraculously hides both the Count and Cherubino from the curious Don Basilio in Act I. To use a very American expression “If it aint broke… don’t fix it!” There is after all only so much new material one can squeeze out of a two hundred year old classic, but Mr Keller did well in delivering a fresh staging that was, more than anything, entertaining and engaging. There were times when it seemed just a little chaotic, mainly during the first Act duet of Figaro and Susanna, and also at the beginning of “Non più andrai”, but this was no doubt due to opening night jitters, as the cast quickly created an entertaining evening full of laughter and honest sentiment.

One of the stipulations of Le nozze di Figaro is that one is never really alone, and no conversation is really private. The action takes place in the villa of the Count and Countess Almaviva. Peter Davison’s set design made inventive use of both windows and hallways, to enable the clever positioning of spying servants behind doors, as well as curious maids peering in through windows. All of which allowed the audience to get a feeling that they were a part of this home, and also that spying on the drama unfolding in front of their eyes was a natural development of the production. In this way the characters became more human as the spectacle drew to a close.

The role of Figaro was sung by the handsome and richly-voiced John Relyea. His character was initially arch, but soon became noble, offering an interesting juxtaposition to the role of the Count, played brilliantly by Bo Skovhus. This Count was more of a Falstaffian-buffoon than a dignified gentleman. Both men, seemingly standing at over six feet tall, cut masculine stage personas and used this presence to their advantage. Skovhus’s voice is perhaps more reminiscent of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau as the Count, rather than someone like Gabriel Baquier, but he uses his lyricism intelligently and gives a fine and polished interpretation. Susanna was sung by the beautiful Lindeman Young Artist Program graduate, Danielle de Niese, having significantly moved on from her company debut performance back in October 1998 as Barbarina. The soon to be Mrs Christie (care of Glyndebourne Opera House) was energetic and full of the right kind of physical comedy needed to illuminate all the possibilities of her role. When we consider that to sing a role like Susanna at The Metropolitan Opera you require a voice type which is perhaps closer to a helden soubrette than anything else, one wonders if such a beautiful voice isn’t perhaps better suited to the specialized baroque niche for which she has become so popular of late? Her comedic timing also worked very well with the charismatic duo of Marcellina and Don Bartolo, sung by the veteran mezzo-soprano Wendy White, and the delightful Maurizio Muraro.

Emma Bell, already a celebrated Elettra, made her Metropolitan Opera debut in a commanding performance of the Countess. Although her “Porgi amor” was less than distinguished, she received a well-deserved and great ovation following her superb rendition of “Dove sono”. She sang with class and prodigious vocal reserves, leaving the audience feeling that a new and very special soprano had arrived in town. It is a less creamy voice than your usual Countess, with dark overtones defining the timbre, but this only served to make her performance all the more exciting. The top of the voice is certainly freer and more open than the rest, with a vibrant cutting edge characterizing the sound. There is plenty of vibrato, but also superb control. The middle register appears to be far plummier in sound, and perhaps placed a little too far back. Her pianissimo however was exquisite, and the audience rightly acclaimed her Countess at the curtain calls as a great success. This is a voice which has a golden age quality about it. Whether one equates that age with Regine Crespin, Gwyneth Jones or even Eleanor Steber, make no mistake about it, Emma Bell is someone quite special indeed.

The charming Cherubino was well sung by the lyric mezzo-soprano, Isabel Leonard. As a compliment to her acting style, one soon forgot whether she was a he or she, and instead enjoyed her truly magical stage presence. For anyone who fails to recognize it, there is a definite agreement between the composer and performer, which demands that both parties give their best efforts in affording the audience the opportunity to vicariously live, or recall, certain periods in their lives, through the medium of these larger than life characters. It seems to me that there could not be a man alive, who after listening to Ms Leonard’s “Non so più” would fail to recall those early days of discovery and palpitations! It has been a pleasure to see this artist grow and develop since her debut in 2007 in Romeo and Juliet, and last year as Zerlina in Don Giovanni. She is undoubtedly becoming an important addition to The Metropolitan Opera.

The orchestra of The Metropolitan Opera gave an inspired rendition of the score, and the young conductor Dan Ettinger, in his Metropolitan Opera debut, elegantly demonstrated his capable reading of the repertoire with finesse and well judged tempi. It will be exciting to see where he will go from here. But in the final reckoning, this opera is a true ensemble work, and this cast validated yet again Mozart’s genius in composing an opera such as Le nozze di Figaro, by performing it so well. All of the principals were entirely successful in communicating the humanity of these fascinating characters, which today still speaks to audiences more then two hundred years after its conception. In an age when issues of sex and class still plague society, it is interesting to see that some part of mankind is, and always has been, striving for betterment and equity.

Normalcy returns to Met after ‘Tosca’ failure

by Ronald Blum

ASSOCIATED PRESS

NEW YORK — Normalcy returned to the Metropolitan Opera with a charming second-night revival of Mozart's "Le Nozze di Figaro," one night after a new production of Puccini's "Tosca" left a significant segment of the audience booing one of the company's biggest failures in decades.

Jonathan Miller's 1998 staging of "Figaro" is handsome, intelligent and focused — the opposite of Luc Bondy's tacky "Tosca" production that veered from dull to dumb.

Of chief interest Tuesday night were soprano Danielle de Niese's first Susanna at the Met and the company debuts of soprano Emma Bell as the Countess and conductor Dan Ettinger. There were only cheers at the end.

De Niese made her company debut in the far smaller role of Barbarina when this production premiered. She is now a rising star and was charming as Susanna, with an expressive face and a soaring sweet voice.

She toned down the hamming that Cecilia Bartoli used effectively in the original cast. De Niese even seemed a bit interested in the Count's advances, making goo-goo eyes, adding complexity to the role.

Bell seemed a bit nervous during her opening "Porgi Amor (Grant Love)" in the second act, and her voice took on a harsh tone during some loud, exposed notes. She was far more comfortable, relaxed and effective one act later in a touching "Dove sono (Where are the golden moments)?"

John Relyea was in fine voice as a somewhat restrained Figaro, the center of all the goings-on in the tumultuous Almaviva household. Bo Skovhus, returning to a role he last sang at the Met a decade ago, was a suave Count and mostly sang well, although there was some strain in his "Vedro mentr'io sospiro (Shall I see, while I suffer)" in the third act.

Mezzo-soprano Isabel Leonard sang the trousers role Cherubino at the Met for the first time and brought energy and a voice filled of color.

Rounding out the fine ensemble were Wendy White (Marcellina), Maurizio Muraro (Bartolo), Philip Langridge (Basilio), Ashley Emerson (Barbarina) and Tony Stevenson (Curzio).

Ettinger, music director of the Israel Symphony Orchestra and Mannheim's National Theater in Germany, led an elegant account, not as frothy as James Levine's but nonetheless effective.

’Figaro,' Rooted in the 1700s, Still Knows How to Laugh.

by Alan Kozinn

THE NEW YORK TIMES

If the Metropolitan Opera continues on its current path, Jonathan Miller’s 1998 production of Mozart’s “Nozze di Figaro” will be succeeded either by a version couched in the glitzy conventions of Broadway or by a European high-concept staging in which the action is presented as, perhaps, a hallucination of an institutionalized Don Basilio.

Mr. Miller has been known to tinker with settings and relationships himself, but his “Figaro” is fairly straightforward: he keeps the work in the 18th century and lets the score tell this subversive tale Mozart’s way. But the staging continues to evolve, incrementally. Gregory Keller is now overseeing the stage direction, and when the opera returned to the house on Tuesday evening, some scenes had been rethought (Figaro now sings “Se vuol ballare” while spit-polishing the Count’s boots; Cherubino no longer disrobes behind the Countess’s screen), and the balance of subtlety and slapstick has moved slightly toward comic broadness.

The cast undoubtedly has something to do with that. Most notably Danielle de Niese, a natural comic actress, in her first Met Susanna, brought an ebullient playfulness to the role, particularly in her scenes with Cherubino and the Countess. But she was not just a comedian; in her scenes with the Count she conveys the sense that beneath her flirtatiousness Susanna knows she is playing with fire and is constantly recalculating her moves.

Ms. de Niese’s lyric soprano has a good, solid top supported by a firm middle range that yields a full, if not especially loud, rounded tone that can be momentarily disconcerting if you expect the bright soubrette voice that has become the norm in this role. But Ms. de Niese recast Susanna in her own image and was at her most persuasive in her passionate account of “Deh! Vieni, non tardar,” in the final act.

John Relyea’s Figaro seemed less sharply defined than it has in past seasons. Perhaps the chemistry between him and Ms. de Niese is not as volatile as it might be. But his spotlight moments, from the comic “Non più andrai" to the emotionally intense “Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi,” remain thoughtfully characterized. And Bo Skovhus’s firm-voiced rendering of the Count is notable for its flexibility. Less imperious than many, this Count moves inexorably from smooth lothario to frustrated bumbler.

Emma Bell, making her house debut as the Countess, began puzzlingly. Her “Porgi amor” benefited from her warm tone and shapely phrasing yet failed to convey the Countess’s desolation. But she quickly warmed to the role, and when Mozart offered a second chance, in “Dove sono,” her gracefully shaped dynamics, including a heavenly pianissimo in the repeated section, yielded one of the evening’s most moving moments. (Another was her beautifully paced appearance in the closing scene.)

In terms of vocal agility and tone Isabel Leonard’s wonderfully boyish Cherubino sometimes brought back memories of Frederica von Stade’s portrayal, though Ms. Leonard could usefully find more adolescent ardor in the page’s two arias.

The smaller roles were also solidly cast, with Maurizio Muraro (Don Bartolo), Wendy White (Marcellina), Philip Langridge (Don Basilio) and Ashley Emerson (Barbarina) all making strong contributions.

Dan Ettinger, a newcomer to the Met’s conducting roster, drew a robust, finely polished sound from the orchestra. You had to admire the energy of his reading if not always his tempos. At times his briskness bordered on breathlessness, and that took its toll on a couple of the arias, most notably Cherubino’s “Non so più.” But by the second act Mr. Ettinger began to see the benefits of moderation, and most of the performance was more reasonably paced.