The extraordinary forgiveness that Mozart evokes in the final moments of his long opera Le Nozze di Figaro was radiantly pitched by soloist and the whole ensemble of Opera Australia in their recent performances. It drew us once more into the sensate depth of human experience that Mozart so lovingly explores in all his operas. The revival of this David McVicar production with set and costume design by Jenny Tiramani is wearing well. It truly gives us a sense of a ‘crazy day’ in the life of a seigneurial chateau.
Everyone is beautiful clothed. Cornflower blue for the servants easily outshines in simplicity and sharp cut the sometimes lurid over-garments of the gentry. The hunting outfit for the Conte is wickedly preposterous, highlighting the excessive Kardashian curves of this pin pricked aristocrat, who seems unable to keep his sexuality from bursting out of his over padded day wear.
Andrea Bondarenko reprises his role of Conte Almaviva and bring both brutality and playfulness to his role of the despot - in both marriage and manor. His attention span is limited, his craving for sex unlimited. His swaggering honour and ruthless control of people is swiftly portrayed and potently sung. His vengeance aria in Act 3 - 'Vedro, mentre io sospiro' - was full of menace and gave some grunt to the class issues that surface now and then in this mild adaptation of Beaumarchais’ more revolutionary play
His counterbalance in masculine terms is the Figaro of Paolo Bordogna. His is a truly handsome Figaro whose dexterity both in vocal and theatrical escapade terms was deftly managed, creating a complex character From the assertive “Se vuol ballare” in Act 1 through to the deep and wild distress that Susanna’s perceived betrayal brings in his Act 4 aria, this was a febrile human being. His Italianate voice is full of nuance as well as braggadocio when required and instils true comic parlando into da Ponte’s text. His is a clever boy, but emotionally not always subtle: a nice portrait of affable masculinity. The sexual betrayal he fears in Act 4 was driven by strong characterisation and singing – with the mocking horns casting the net of cuckoldry across his agitation. His love is simple, though his cursing of all women is a misogynistic rant that rankles in postmodern times.
His interaction with his beloved Susanna (Julie Lea Goodwin) was full of playful love – amorous and flecked with good humour. Goodwin gave a pointed reading of this delightful but difficult role. The sexual and social imbalance of her role (pinched and squeezed by the Conte, sister but handmaiden to the Contessa) make the ‘me too ‘aspects of this work’s gendered and monied hierarchy both illuminating and disconcerting. Her Act 4 Aria – ‘Deh vieni non tardar’ - given in front of the sheer down stage curtain, was a vocal and emotional triumph. This invocation to love has many tricky moments, but she managed all and gave a true sense of the emotional and sexual anticipation of young love within the weft of mischief and playful conceit.
Ekaterina Sadovnikova as the Contessa Almaviva delivered some breathtaking vocalisation. The exposed and difficult opening that Mozart gives his soprano – ‘Porgi Amor ‘– was floated with absolute purity and tenderness. The sadness of the Contessa, living with a philandering husband and yet still in love with the young Almaviva (who secured her hand in marriage not so long ago with the help of the wily Figaro) was preciously distilled, capturing both the equivocation and distress of this still young woman. The Contessa is given so much exquisite music. Her Act 3 aria - ‘Dove Sono’ - was poised, elegant, but also forceful in its final stretches The young woman’s spunk was on display. The bedroom scene with the trapped and hidden Cherubino was nicely enacted as were her forceful responses to her husband’s implacable anger, suspicion and violence. She finds the true grit to remonstrate against him. Her shocked intoning of ‘Justizia’ cuts across the farce. This was a memorable assumption.
Anna Dowsley as Cherubino was a hormonally ravaged young buck, beautifully expressive in the vocal and sexual palpitations that course through his/her body. What an amazing portrait of adolescent love, Mozart delivers. The versality of this young singer is worthy of celebration.
Domenica Matthews as Marcellina was a fine comic creation, her dark voice was well pitched for both anger and forgiveness. Her care and support for both Susanna and her newly discovered son Figaro, in Act 4 , was particularly piquant. Her warm sensuality was nicely entrained with Dr Bartolo’s (Richard Anderson) more demure affection. Their chemistry was humorous and believable. A delight also to witness her fight with Susanna in Act 1 - roiling good fun sharply choregraphed.
Kate Amos as Barbarina was full of sly peasant humour and limpid singing – her little arietta in Act 4 was sprung with sweet despair.
Andrew Moran as Antonio gave us a youthful and craftly gardener, full of his own agency in the bedlam of the bedroom scene.
The waspish humour of Don Basilio was nicely essayed by Benjamin Rasheed – his dark good looks and oleaginous behaviour instilling a frisson in this comic support role.
The ever reliable Graeme McFarlane was all judicial teflon in his role as Don Curzio – hectoring then surrendering with sotto voce anger when his plan to trap Figaro goes awry. This was a small role expressively sung and acted.
The chorus were a delight, nosey and noisy participants in the day's shenanigans, delivering a sharp buffo presence.
From the buoyant sprung rhythms of the overture, Guillaume Tourniaire and orchestra kept the rhythmic energy of this protean music on a strong pulse. The continuo was sharply pointed in the recitatives. Tourniaire breathed with his singers. The many interactions between singer and solo instrument were truly simpatico. The ‘Canzonetta Sull’aria’ duet in Act 3 was floated on high with exquisite poise and cadential conclusion. The miraculous ensembles of Act 2 and Act 4 were both taut and expressive – and full of propulsive meaning. The direct line to Rossini in many of the manic vocal imprecations was truly spotlight in this performance.
The lighting by David Finn plays a pivotal role in this production as we move from morning in the basement to moonlight on the terrace
Le Nozze di Figaro is a long night in the theatre. Act 4 always tends to meander and is often cut, with so many solos and plot threads weaving towards their conclusion, but the energy and deep engagement of the singing and playing did not flag and guided us to the magical finale that brings deep understanding of human frailty and then joyous celebration as love and fellowship triumph – for now.
The revival director, Andrew Morton kept plot and people in clear focus and motivated movement. The tiny stage of the opera house seemed relatively spacious in this humane and airy production.
Opera Australia, Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House, Sydney, 21 October, 2019
Gar Jones
Everyone is beautiful clothed. Cornflower blue for the servants easily outshines in simplicity and sharp cut the sometimes lurid over-garments of the gentry. The hunting outfit for the Conte is wickedly preposterous, highlighting the excessive Kardashian curves of this pin pricked aristocrat, who seems unable to keep his sexuality from bursting out of his over padded day wear.
Andrea Bondarenko reprises his role of Conte Almaviva and bring both brutality and playfulness to his role of the despot - in both marriage and manor. His attention span is limited, his craving for sex unlimited. His swaggering honour and ruthless control of people is swiftly portrayed and potently sung. His vengeance aria in Act 3 - 'Vedro, mentre io sospiro' - was full of menace and gave some grunt to the class issues that surface now and then in this mild adaptation of Beaumarchais’ more revolutionary play
His counterbalance in masculine terms is the Figaro of Paolo Bordogna. His is a truly handsome Figaro whose dexterity both in vocal and theatrical escapade terms was deftly managed, creating a complex character From the assertive “Se vuol ballare” in Act 1 through to the deep and wild distress that Susanna’s perceived betrayal brings in his Act 4 aria, this was a febrile human being. His Italianate voice is full of nuance as well as braggadocio when required and instils true comic parlando into da Ponte’s text. His is a clever boy, but emotionally not always subtle: a nice portrait of affable masculinity. The sexual betrayal he fears in Act 4 was driven by strong characterisation and singing – with the mocking horns casting the net of cuckoldry across his agitation. His love is simple, though his cursing of all women is a misogynistic rant that rankles in postmodern times.
His interaction with his beloved Susanna (Julie Lea Goodwin) was full of playful love – amorous and flecked with good humour. Goodwin gave a pointed reading of this delightful but difficult role. The sexual and social imbalance of her role (pinched and squeezed by the Conte, sister but handmaiden to the Contessa) make the ‘me too ‘aspects of this work’s gendered and monied hierarchy both illuminating and disconcerting. Her Act 4 Aria – ‘Deh vieni non tardar’ - given in front of the sheer down stage curtain, was a vocal and emotional triumph. This invocation to love has many tricky moments, but she managed all and gave a true sense of the emotional and sexual anticipation of young love within the weft of mischief and playful conceit.
Ekaterina Sadovnikova as the Contessa Almaviva delivered some breathtaking vocalisation. The exposed and difficult opening that Mozart gives his soprano – ‘Porgi Amor ‘– was floated with absolute purity and tenderness. The sadness of the Contessa, living with a philandering husband and yet still in love with the young Almaviva (who secured her hand in marriage not so long ago with the help of the wily Figaro) was preciously distilled, capturing both the equivocation and distress of this still young woman. The Contessa is given so much exquisite music. Her Act 3 aria - ‘Dove Sono’ - was poised, elegant, but also forceful in its final stretches The young woman’s spunk was on display. The bedroom scene with the trapped and hidden Cherubino was nicely enacted as were her forceful responses to her husband’s implacable anger, suspicion and violence. She finds the true grit to remonstrate against him. Her shocked intoning of ‘Justizia’ cuts across the farce. This was a memorable assumption.
Anna Dowsley as Cherubino was a hormonally ravaged young buck, beautifully expressive in the vocal and sexual palpitations that course through his/her body. What an amazing portrait of adolescent love, Mozart delivers. The versality of this young singer is worthy of celebration.
Domenica Matthews as Marcellina was a fine comic creation, her dark voice was well pitched for both anger and forgiveness. Her care and support for both Susanna and her newly discovered son Figaro, in Act 4 , was particularly piquant. Her warm sensuality was nicely entrained with Dr Bartolo’s (Richard Anderson) more demure affection. Their chemistry was humorous and believable. A delight also to witness her fight with Susanna in Act 1 - roiling good fun sharply choregraphed.
Kate Amos as Barbarina was full of sly peasant humour and limpid singing – her little arietta in Act 4 was sprung with sweet despair.
Andrew Moran as Antonio gave us a youthful and craftly gardener, full of his own agency in the bedlam of the bedroom scene.
The waspish humour of Don Basilio was nicely essayed by Benjamin Rasheed – his dark good looks and oleaginous behaviour instilling a frisson in this comic support role.
The ever reliable Graeme McFarlane was all judicial teflon in his role as Don Curzio – hectoring then surrendering with sotto voce anger when his plan to trap Figaro goes awry. This was a small role expressively sung and acted.
The chorus were a delight, nosey and noisy participants in the day's shenanigans, delivering a sharp buffo presence.
From the buoyant sprung rhythms of the overture, Guillaume Tourniaire and orchestra kept the rhythmic energy of this protean music on a strong pulse. The continuo was sharply pointed in the recitatives. Tourniaire breathed with his singers. The many interactions between singer and solo instrument were truly simpatico. The ‘Canzonetta Sull’aria’ duet in Act 3 was floated on high with exquisite poise and cadential conclusion. The miraculous ensembles of Act 2 and Act 4 were both taut and expressive – and full of propulsive meaning. The direct line to Rossini in many of the manic vocal imprecations was truly spotlight in this performance.
The lighting by David Finn plays a pivotal role in this production as we move from morning in the basement to moonlight on the terrace
Le Nozze di Figaro is a long night in the theatre. Act 4 always tends to meander and is often cut, with so many solos and plot threads weaving towards their conclusion, but the energy and deep engagement of the singing and playing did not flag and guided us to the magical finale that brings deep understanding of human frailty and then joyous celebration as love and fellowship triumph – for now.
The revival director, Andrew Morton kept plot and people in clear focus and motivated movement. The tiny stage of the opera house seemed relatively spacious in this humane and airy production.
Opera Australia, Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House, Sydney, 21 October, 2019
Gar Jones
