I Love’s ya’ PorgiIt’s good to see Neil
Armfield’s insightful production of
Le nozze di Figaro again, especially in the lead-up to his greatly anticipated Ring Cycle in Melbourne in 2013 (the first complete cycle staged in Melbourne in a century) for the Wagner bi-centenary.
Armfield’s view of late eighteenth century life in Spain is a dark one. The
Almaviva household is held in the same disdain as the then monarch Carlos IV and his dysfunctional family. Goya inspires Dale Ferguson’s costumes; Countess
Almaviva in particular, in oyster satin (and thanks to soprano Rachelle
Durkin’s supermodel physique and bearing) has the devastating allure of Goya’s beloved Duchess of Alba. Goya even makes an appearance in act three to ‘photograph’ Figaro’s nuptials and, just as the he did in his portrait of the Royal Family, captures a household in sexual, social and political turmoil.
Fergusson’s sets feature deliberate anachronisms that, to my eyes, show the contemptible attitude of the
Almaviva’s to their staff. A shabby, red vinyl reclining armchair dominates act one for
Cherubino then the Count to hide behind or in. It’s the sort of out-of-date furniture that would normally be dumped but here is given to the servants to furnish their quarters. For the wedding celebrations the Count has laid on a cheap looking spread that, with its old fashioned hot water urn and Sunshine brand cups and saucers resembles a remote Country Ladies’ Association luncheon circa 1962!
I personally prefer a deeper voiced Figaro in contrast to a lighter voiced Count as here. With that gruff edge to his voice Teddy
Tahu Rhodes exemplifies the peasant against the more refined voice of Peter Coleman-Wright’s aristocrat. In “Se
vuol ballare” he embellishes the repeated theme. The result is a little ungainly but in terms of characterisation the growl in his voice works splendidly. Even better in “Non
più andrai” he directs the second verse to the Count, seated smugly in that recliner chair, and, towering over the trembling Count, warns him his days of philandering are over too and reminding us just how revolutionary this opera (and the play it derives from) was feared to be.
Armfield fills the opera with insights like these and the principal singers - especially Coleman-Wright, Rhodes,
Durkin and Tiffany
Speight - integrate them into their performances with easy assurance.

Tall and sleek
Durkin’s arms glide naturally into gestures both graceful and, at appropriate times, erotic. When, in act two, the Count tries to force her away from the door to force open the closet where
Cherubino hides, he at first violently lays his gloved hands on her only to let them roam over her breasts and body making the sexual connection still existing between the two – despite their current marital problems – alarmingly obvious.
Durkin’s response to this rare moment of contact with her faithless husband, melting at his touch, is simultaneously elegant and erotic. Erotic obsession is the basis of this opera after all and this insight into that eroticism created a frisson. The Countess’s attraction to
Cherubino was
insightfully played up too; the Countess wilting to his act two serenade like Gomez used to when
Morticia spoke French.
Speight’s voice grows in size and stature with each appearance.
Speight also has charming way with and special claim on
Mozartian maids.
Sian Pendry bravely displays the rampaging teenage sexuality of
Cherubino behaving at times like a spaniel in heat! She neatly negotiates the rapid pace set for “Non so
piu” beautifully enunciating the words as do he rest of the cast.
The secondary characters weave through the story with only occasional success, pity because Mozart and
Da Ponte allow them often substantial stage time. Elizabeth Campbell’s Marcellina is another character caught in a precarious situation. Her frustrations run deeper than mere anxiety over her age. Her favour with the Count
Almaviva, depends on her winning her case against Figaro. In Campbell’s hands there is that sense Marcellina is greatly relieved when she finds Figaro is her son and she can escape to bourgeoisie security now as
Bartolo’s wife. When
Armfield’s production was first staged Don Basilio’s and Marcellina’s arias were cut. They were restored for the revival in Sydney, although Marcellina’s is excised for this Melbourne season.
The tenor Robert Tear specialises in singing Basilio and devotes an entire essay to him in his book
Singer Beware offering an illuminating analysis into “the quality of thought which might invest a small part with a fresh interest and, at the same time, probably alter the usual balance of the opera. “If the aria, is cut,” he writes, “the character becomes extremely hard to play simply because the chance of explaining his character to the audience is taken away, all the earlier behaviour seeming merely eccentric or stupid.” Basilio is a man of great intelligence, according to Tear, “more intelligent than anyone else in the
Almaviva household” the seemingly bizarre aria "In
quelli anni cui dal poco” is making a point about this “musician/thinker’s position in a philistine aristocratic house of the period.” While the near-revolutionary sentiments of Figaro’s are
extrovertly apparent in
Armfield’s clever twist in “Non
più andrai”, there could have been similar possibilities with Basilio’s aria explaining his philosophy and how it helped him survive the “fooleries of class and politics” surrounding him.
Figaro is as much about disguise and hidden identity as it is about eroticism and Basilio revealing that he has disguised himself in a donkey skin his entire life should hardly come as a surprise after the multiple disguises of the previous acts. In Opera Australia's older production Basilio actually wore said pelt, converted into a cloak which he wore over his familiar
curé's garments. In this production Basilio only speaks of the donkey skin. Conductor
Marko Letonja actually highlights the ascending horn passages at the end of
Basilio’s aria so they ring out with a confidence worthy of Beethoven and suggest maybe Basilio is another plebeian hero.
Kanen Breen plays Basilio primarily for laughs and by the time the aria arrives the character has become a rococo incarnation of Kenneth Williams. It’s an assured performance however; with a smug strut, the character slithers around with decreasing fear of his master after all.
There is a touch of early music practice from the orchestra;
fortepiano replacing the usual harpsichord and the strings adopting that occasionally ‘wiry’ sound associated with early music practice. Acts one and two work the best in this current revival, the sexual and social strain made delightfully relevant by director and cast.
Mozart -
Le nozze di Figaroa co-production between Opera Australia and the Welsh National Opera
Conductor -
Marko Letonja, Anthony
Legge (November 23 & 27)
Director - Neil
ArmfieldScenery & Costume Design - Dale Ferguson
Lighting Design - Rory
DempsterCount
Almaviva - Peter Coleman-Wright
Countess
Almaviva - Rachelle
DurkinSusanna - Tiffany
SpeightFigaro - Teddy
Tahu Rhodes
Cherubino -
Sian PendryMarcellina - Elizabeth Campbell
Bartolo - Warwick
FyfeBasilio/
Curzio -
Kanen BreenBarbarina - Claire Lyon
Antonio - Clifford
PlumptonBridesmaids - Katherine Wiles & Margaret
PlummerOpera Australia Chorus
Orchestra Victoria
Presented by
Opera AustraliaState Theatre, The Arts Centre
November 17, 20, 23, 27, December 2, 9, 11 & 15, 2010
pictured - Rachelle Durkin & Peter Coleman-Wright (picture Branco Gaicia)