‘The Barber of Seville’ a Bright 85th Season Opener

ON STAGE PITTSBURGH

Pittsburgh Opera Offers a Vivacious Production of Old Classic

Despite miserable weather and having a star baritone on the sick list, Pittsburgh Opera attracted a good-sized audience to a brilliant performance of The Barber of Seville (Il Barbiere di Siviglia) at the Benedum last evening. As is often the case, the tone of the evening was set by Antony Walker and the orchestra “delivering” – and deliver they did, a superb rendition of Gioachino Rossini’s thrilling overture, some of the most inspired music in the classic, old, tuneful comedy. Baritone John McCullough, the long-advertised singer who was to take the role of Figaro, the all-knowing barber of Seville, was unable to sing due to illness, but the company need not apologize for flying in – at the eleventh hour – the young, handsome and very gifted John Moore to take his place. He has appeared in this production elsewhere, making for a test of his memory, and the little rehearsal time due to his last-minute arrival in Pittsburgh made his animated performance even more remarkable.

Moore has a rich, resonant voice and is an actor ideally suited to the part of Figaro. Despite a slightly clipped “Largo al factotum della città” (“Make way for the factotum of the city”), the role’s best-known aria, he gave a truly stellar rendition of the part, and with his voice and comedy gold, made a most auspicious debut with the company. The reception he received must surely have moved him deeply and made his unexpected trip worthwhile. Another baritone who gave a highly commendable performance, and, if memory serves, in his third appearance on the Pittsburgh Opera stage, was the versatile Musa Ngqungwana, who sings the role of Doctor Bartolo. His warmly burnished tones and naturally appealing stage presence make him a pleasure in any role he takes, be it tragedy or comedy. His extended range makes possible funny falsetto mockery in his Bartolo.

Another new voice and face on the Benedum stage was tenor Lunga Eric Hallam, as the Count Almaviva. He, too, made a striking appearance and is a vivid singing actor, though, at least last night, his voice was sometimes “white,” and some high tones were less than solidly focused. But the overall quality of his voice and the manner in which he uses it point to a very skilled artist. Brandon Bell, as Fiorello, had much to do with the performance getting off to the brilliant start that it did, and the always reliable Brian Kontes, both in singing and acting, was a notably fine Don Basilio. David Scoville and Roy Simmons rounded out the cast in the roles of an Officer and a Notary, respectively, and the chorus and “supes” all made fine showings.

As mentioned above, Antony Walker and his orchestra delivered a marvelous performance. The overture was symphonic, and the conductor once again made the magic of the orchestration shine without taking anything away from the vocalists. Gregory Keller’s stage direction was clever and engaging, and for great singing, scenic design and many other points of interest, the opening night of Pittsburgh Opera’s 85th was a decidedly brilliant one indeed.

Review: An opera-singing barber bartends and brokers marriage on stage in a brilliant 'Barber of Seville'

by Jeremy Reynolds

PITTSBURGH POST-GAZETTE

In ye olden times — say, 18th century Spain — your barber didn’t just cut your hair. He would also act as confidant, dentist, surgeon, bloodletter, your hair. He would also act as confidant, dentist, surgeon, bloodletter, apothecary, veterinarian and much more.

(Sounds safe, right?)

On Saturday at the Benedum Center, one of the most devious of fictional barbers, Figaro himself, plugged in a blender and mixed himself a margarita all while delivering a razor-sharp, winsome performance of the famous “Fiiii-gaaaa-rooooo!” aria, introducing himself to attendees in grand operatic style. A little salt on the rim — “laaaaa!” A splash of lime juice — “laaaaa!” All the while, the music scurries and bubbles with madcap cheeriness.

Figaro is, of course, the Barber of Seville, and a rather substance-abusive one at that, in the opera’s eponymous season-opening production, which runs through Oct. 22 at the Benedum.

How’d it go?

The plot

“Barber” is a tangled plot — the wealthy Count Almaviva is in love with the wily Rosina, but he disguises himself when he calls on her to ensure that she falls in love with his person rather than his purse. But alas, Rosina’s guardian, the pestiferous Dr. Bartolo, is also pursuing her and keeps her confined to the house.

Enter Figaro, the city’s barber and jack-of-all-trades, who concocts plan after plan to insert Almaviva into the household, camouflaged as a drunken soldier and then as a music teacher, to win Rosina’s hand.

Shenanigans ensue, set to music by Rossini that’s been burned into the public consciousness through its use in cartoons ranging from “Bugs Bunny” to “Tom & Jerry” and much more.

There’s a reason this opera has remained popular for more than 200 years. Rossini himself was something of a cartoon, the sort of Figaro-esque character who drank the leftover sacramental wine after communions and once quipped, “Give me a laundry list and I’ll set it to music!”

Listening to the rapid-fire Italian singing in “Barber,” an experience not unlike watching a movie with subtitles, is still mesmerizing. And sudden shifts in the music in style and volume catch the ear by surprise, casting the more ridiculous plot elements in an elegant, polished veneer.

The artists

In director Gregory Keller’s adaptation, that’s not talcum powder under Figaro’s nose, and characters are rarely without a drink in their hands. The entire opera takes place inside or just outside Bartolo’s stylish period villa.

As to the cast, the largest laurels must go to Figaro himself, sung by John Moore, who arrived in Pittsburgh on Thursday to take over the role when the original Figaro, John McCullough, had to back out for health reasons. Moore sent his rich baritone spinning round the hall, maneuvering through Rossini’s music with panache. Plus, his confidence and enthusiasm in every movement and wink to the audience cast the production in a warm glow of conspiracy.

(The audience is in on all the jokes, you see.)

Other standouts include Stephanie Doche as Rosina in a triumphant Pittsburgh Opera debut, and the returning South African singer Musa Ngqungwana as a more sympathetically aggravating than dastardly Doctor Bartolo. Some of his faster patter singing was a little aggressive in its attacks, suggesting more anger than passion in Mgqungwana’s typically silky bass.

Another debut, Lunga Eric Hallam, was less successful. His best moments were in duet with Moore’s Figaro and in more lyrical passages, but on Saturday his high register sounded fragile, and his presence was inconsistent. Perhaps this was opening night jitters.

Conductor Antony Walker maintained a brisk pace with the orchestra, and aside from some ghastly intonation in the strings at times, the orchestra proved itself a strong partner to Figaro’s antics, and this was one of the opera chorus’ stronger showings in recent seasons.

Close shave

The only sour note was the first-act finale, where a character mimes a drug overdose and receives an adrenaline shot, which seemed a bit tastelessly over-the-top given the wink-and-nod nature of the rest of the opera. (Later, Figaro rolling himself a blunt and baking himself felt more in line with the production’s tongue-in-cheek tone.)

Around the country, opera companies are reinventing themselves, programming partially staged productions and more contemporary works intended to speak to modern issues. Some are finding success. Some are not, and those companies are shuttering their doors altogether. Pittsburgh Opera’s balance of old and new and grand opera and more conceptual staging is a workable formula and holding steady. The company’s “Barber of Seville” is a traditional grand production with all the bells and whistles and a cracking reminder of the magic of the opera in all its finery, its glamour and its humor.

As Rossini himself said: “Eating, loving, singing, and digesting are, in truth, the four acts of the comic opera known as life, and they pass like bubbles of a bottle of champagne. Whoever lets them break without having enjoyed them is a complete fool.”

PROGRAM NOTE

THE BARBER OF SEVILLE or THE USELESS PRECAUTION

Pierre Beaumarchais wrote a trilogy of plays featuring his own quick-witted, autobiographical alter-ego, Figaro: The Barber of Seville (1773), The Marriage of Figaro (1778), and The Guilty Mother (1792). This trio of radically funny and popular plays were also quite subversive, as they called for social equality in the tumultuous years leading up to the French Revolution, espoused feminism long before women had any demonstrable rights, skewered the foibles and excesses of the aristocracy, and most importantly, championed the intelligence of ordinary citizens. Remarkably hilarious and revolutionary at the same time, they were truly visionary pieces that still can pierce the bubble of our egotistical pride, and ring as true today as they did over 200 years ago.  

 Beaumarchais was a most interesting man. Watchmaker, musician, secret agent, businessman, diplomat, fugitive, and gunrunner for the American Revolution. He founded a shell corporation, Roderigue Hortalez & Company, to funnel Spanish and French arms and supplies into Portsmouth, New Hampshire, via the West Indies, in exchange for tobacco.  At 21, he invented a new form of watch escapement, which was pirated by the royal watchmaker, Jean-André Lepaute, causing a protracted legal battle over the patent. Beaumarchais’s quips in the court of the Académie des Sciences became popular lore, and he eventually won his case.  He then designed a bejeweled “keyless watch” on a ring, no bigger than the size of a quarter, for the royal mistress, Madame de Pompadour.  Louis XV was so impressed that he ordered another for himself, fired Lepaute, and appointed Pierre as the royal watchmaker.  Beaumarchais’s next assignment was to teach harp lessons to the King’s four daughters (just imagine the din in that music room!)  By 30 he had purchased a noble office, renamed himself Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, and fully entered high society.

 Paisiello wrote the first operatic version of Barber in 1780, and Rossini followed suit in 1816. Mozart would write his famous opera to the sequel in 1786, only two years after Louis XVI allowed Beaumarchais’s The Marriage of Figaro to be performed onstage.  It’s important to remember that these were contemporary works, aimed at satirizing the well-heeled audience watching from the comfort of their velvet seats.  A sort of “White Lotus” long before its time.

 We tend to regard these works as museum pieces now, with powdered wigs and harpsichords, which obfuscates the immediacy they once had when directly mocking their own audience.  I wanted to toss in a few anachronistic reminders throughout the show to jolt the audience into realizing that that we are still the same vain, entitled, selfish beasts that Beaumarchais encountered.  We too, need to have the mirror reflect our own faces, in hopes of a glimmer of self-reflection.  And what better medium to convey this message than laughter?  As Charles Ludlam, the great American founder of the Theatre of the Ridiculous, wrote: “You are a living mockery of your own ideals.  If not, you have set your ideals too low.”

 Enjoy tonight’s silly romp around Seville, and I hope it feels fresh and new, and yes, even a bit radical and challenging.  For in today’s crazy world, where Truth can be so easily conflated with Opinion, where we are still banning books which may have revolutionary ideas embedded in them in order to “protect our children” -- it is always important to remember that the pen is mightier than the sword, and Freedom of Thought will eventually triumph. As Figaro says in the first play: “I’d say that the nonsense that finds its way into print only matters to the people who would like to ban it; that without the freedom to criticize, praise is meaningless.”  

 200 years later these Enlightenment plays and operas still pack a comic and critical punch, and their ideas still feel fresh and even challenging. Napoleon supposedly said that Beaumarchais should have been put in jail and kept there, as he was “the revolution already in action.”  I cannot think of a more ringing endorsement, or a more useless precaution.