The Marriage of Figaro

An opera review by Murray Dahm

This is a delightful production, full of wit, insight and wonderful singing, and with flashes of the darker side of this most famous of operatic comedies.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s opera (Le Nozze de Figaro to give it its Italian title) is based on Pierre Beaumarchais’ 1784 play La folle journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro (The mad day, or the marriage of Figaro). The play was, however, banned in the Holy Roman Empire because of its anti-royalty sentiments. Contrary to popular opinion (probably from Miloš Forman’s Amadeus film in 1984), this did not get Mozart into trouble with the emperor – his librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte obtained permission for an operatic version (and he expunged anything objectionable to the emperor and the censor from it).

In brief the plot tells of a single day in Seville, Spain where Figaro and Susanna are due to be married but where the Count (Figaro’s employer) hopes to enjoy the Droit du seigneur with her (where a feudal lord could sleep with the bride first – an aside – there is no medieval evidence of this practice – our ‘best’ evidence for it is Beaumarchais’ play – which sought to show lords in a very bad light!). Meanwhile, the pageboy Cherubino has been caught chasing one of the Count’s favourites and will be banished from the palace. Marcellina and Dr Bartolo also want to bring Figaro and Susanna down – she by forcing Figaro to marry her rather than Susanna. Meanwhile, the Countess laments the loss of her love, who seems more interested in pursuing others than her. Shenanigans ensue – including that Marcellina is, in fact, Figaro’s mother; Cherubino remains at the palace getting into trouble (much of it when dressed as a maid); and a plot is finally devised (by the Countess with the help of her maid Susanna) to teach the Count a lesson.

Mozart’s opera premiered in May 1786 in Vienna and gained a respectable nine performances. However, follow-up performances in Prague in December 1786 caused a sensation – it has rarely been out of production somewhere in the world ever since.

And with good reason – from the opening bars of the overture, this work delivers hit after hit for its entire running time of more than three hours. Under the baton of conductor Matteo Dal Maso, the Opera Australia Orchestra sparkled and fizzed – in any other acoustic, this would have brought the house down, but the Opera House still seems to dampen the sound in the theatre.

Nonetheless, it was a brilliant rendition of a well-known piece. Dal Maso and the orchestra then held all the singers with firm support throughout. Special mention to Siro Battaglin on the Fortepiano to accompany the recitatives, who brought both wit and charm to them. One peculiar error in the program had Dal Maso listed as director – even though the actual director (Sir David McVicar) was listed too.

There are details and delight aplenty in the direction – and many moments of comedy and charm, but also of brutality. This production was first seen in 2015 (and again in 2022), and, with this 2025, both returns have been under the hand of revival director Andy Morton.

There are noteworthy details everywhere. From the constantly eavesdropping chorus, always listening at doors, great comedic effect to the lovely moment of intimacy between the bride, Susanna (Siobhan Stagg), and groom, Figaro (Michael Sumuel), where they held a hummed note together on a kiss in their opening duet – “Cinque… dieci… venti…”. This was genuinely lovely and set the tone for a great deal of intimacy (much more than usually seen) throughout the opera.

Kisses, cuddles and caresses were shared between not only Figaro and Susanna but also between Dr Bartolo (Richard Anderson) and Marcellina (Domenica Matthews). This makes perfect sense since they end up marrying at the end of the opera as well. Less expected was Cherubino (Emily Edmonds) kissing both Susanna and the Countess (Kiandra Howarth) and others. This is, however, entirely in keeping with Cherunbino’s character – he tells us he is in love with everyone in a skirt.

The obvious burgeoning romance between the Countess and Cherubino is entirely fitting, too, because in the third of Beaumarchais’ Figaro plays (La Mère coupable, The Guilty Mother) we learn that the Countess did, in fact, have Cherubino’s child. The Countess seeking a lover is also entirely understandable given the philandering and boorish behaviour of the Count (Gordon Binter) – chasing girls aplenty of his own but also jealous and vengeful towards his wife. This production also emphasises the domestic violence of the Count – he slaps and grabs just as much as he abuses with his words.

The production did a marvellous job of highlighting this but also of negotiating the tightrope of not losing its comedic touch – the Count is (eventually) shown up to be the fool he is after all. Such violence has always been present in his words and the fact he is an autocratic monarch answerable to no one, but it is a facet of his character rarely shown. This made him more of a villain than he usually is but was entirely in keeping with the character. It did create some discomfort among the audience, however, and the scene where Susanna flirts with him, “Crudel! perché finora” perhaps went too far for a woman who is about to marry another man. The Countess’ bravery in the face of this treatment makes her character all the more admirable. When the Count grabs the Countess’ arm, her vocal decoration was turned into a cry of pain – giving meaning to the notes – a moment of pure opera. There were many such touches – decorations in familiar pieces to give them a new twist – I especially liked those in the duet between the Countess and Susanna “Sull’aria”. The costumes (by Jenny Tiramani who also designed the set) were glorious – from the blue livery of nearly everyone in the opening act to the gorgeous yellow silk of the Countess and Susanna’s costumes in Act III and IV. The Set too – different rooms in the palace of the count with large ceiling length windows – gave a proper sense of magnificence (the Count (and Countess) dressed in three different outfits during a single day!). Lighting (by David Finn) was mostly natural – seen to best effect in Act III as daylight streamed in the large windows.

I am hard put to decide which singing performance was more distinguished – the quality of the singing (and acting) from everyone on stage was very high. Two performances stood out to me though, the towering Figaro of Sumuel and the glory of Howarth’s Countess.

Howarth gave the most breathtaking performance even though the Countess does not appear in Act I. Her “Porgi Amor” which opens Act II could have easily stopped the show – from glorious tone which filled the auditorium to exquisite pianissimos, it was a privilege to hear.

Her second aria, “Dove Sono” in Act III, was no less brilliant, and her acting throughout, not to mention her comic timing, was just lovely. Sumuel also gave us a consistent, glorious tone all night – from the opera’s first words (“Cinque”) to its last (“Pian pianin le andrò più presso”). His voice had bite and carry but also tenderness and comedy as required.

There was also a contrast in that his imposing physique did not carry the threat that the Count did. Binter certainly used his height to great effect and his softer-grained tone (than Sumuel’s) brought out contrasts in the characters. Binter has the voice of the smooth aristocrat, which made the violence behind the words all the more chilling. Stagg’s voice is smaller and, at first, I thought it would be dwarfed by the voices of Sumuel and Howarth – it never was, however, and the delicacy of her voice brought out a different Susanna than I have seen and heard. Usually, she is more earthy (the sensible one to Figaro’s flights of fancy – and her schemes always work, whereas Figaro’s never do). Her voice is therefore often more robust – here, however, Stagg’s delicate and seemingly fragile voice made a character who perseveres in spite of all ranged against her, and her voice never faltered and always cut through even when I thought it might get lost. Her Act IV aria “Deh vieni non tardar” sung in front of the curtain was a joy and one which showed the steely delicacy of her voice. All of the roles were well sung – special note to Celeste Lazarenko’s Barbarina, and the Bridesmaids of Annabell Chaffey and Keara Donohoe – often such small roles are afterthoughts but here they were delightfully sung and acted. Barbarina’s Act IV aria “L’ho perduta… me meschina” cannot be cut because it is vital to the plot, but here it was beautifully sung and I was glad it was there.

It seems unfair to miss anyone out since all deserved praise – but this is a Figaro you will enjoy immensely and one which will have you thinking anew about this most familiar comedy.

July 31^st, Joan Sutherland Opera Theatre, Sydney