Time for the latest installment in the occasional mash-up of SNLC with the opera series started by DK'er Demi Moaned, since appropriated by self. Thus, the standard start-up question for this diary:
Anyone see the Metropolitan Opera HD-cast of The Barber of Seville today?
For once, in this series, this is a relatively rare chance to indulge in comedy. Nobody dies or gets whacked (although one character momentarily threatens another with 2 bullets in the head if he doesn’t do what the threat-maker wishes), nor are there are bombastic battle scenes. But there is some sense of mayhem, abetted by director Bartlett Sher. This is probably the most famous comic opera ever, and rarely fails to attract audiences. In fact, it was visible in today’s HD-cast that the house in NYC was pretty packed. More (sort of) below il flippo…
First, per 3CM’s usual formula for these diaries, a review link to start the proceedings, although since this is a revival, reviews aren’t exactly thick on the ground here:
(a) Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim, NYT (even this review is coupled with another staging of the same opera in NYC by another troupe)
(b) Chris Browner, Columbia Spectator (yup, Columbia University's newspaper to the rescue again)
Like The Marriage of Figaro from earlier this season, The Barber of Seville is based on a play by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. In fact, The Barber of Seville is the prequel to The Marriage of Figaro. As usual, to get you up to speed on the plot, the synopsis from the Met’s website is here.
In fact, if you read the synopsis (ahem), you’ll see that the plot is sort of "meh". In his introduction to the Penguin Classics paperback of Barber and Figaro, John Wood notes as much:
"Almost nothing in the plot or the range of characters is original."
But Wood then elaborates what was different about this play, at the time:
"What is new is the dimension of characterization, above all that of Figaro…..Its liveliness, its variety of action, do not depend on the plot, which is basically simple, but on the opposition of characters a stage nearer to life than those of traditional comedy. Figaro is clearly the lineal descendent of Scapin, and the unnumbered scoundrelly valets back to Plautus and the New Comedy. He is new in that he transcends the type. He has a past and a future, an incalculable quality, resources not strictly necessary to the action, contradictory elements in his character, and, in this play and its successors, he changes and develops."
Citation: John Wood, foreword to The Barber of Seville / The Marriage of Figaro, Penguin Books, 1964, pp. 26-27
Granted, for an opera, the dialogue of the play has to be trimmed, and some of that detail will be lost. But the essence does still remain, of course.
Another thing to keep in mind about this opera is that composer Gioacchino Rossini wrote it in something less than a month, pretty impressive for an evening’s full-length show. However, he did cheat a tiny bit, by recycling the exceptionally famous overture from his earlier opera Elisabetta, Regina d'Inghelterra (Elizabeth, Queen of England). In addition, a fair chunk of The Barber of Seville is in what is called recitative, which involves the harpsichord alone as accompaniment to those more dialogue-like passages, which are where the plot really moves along. I don’t know this for sure, but my guess is that Rossini, who conducted the opera from the harpsichord at the premiere (a separate story in of itself), would have improvised the recitatives on the spot at the first night.
One notable feature of this production was the use of a passerelle, namely a catwalk-like stage around the orchestra pit, which allowed the singers to go "off stage", in a manner of speaking, and get up close and personal with the first row of the orchestra level. In fact, singers Isabel Leonard (Rosina) and Lawrence Brownlee (Count Almaviva) noted this in the intermission chat with host Deborah Voigt, namely that they could see more closely than usual that audience members were having a good time watching this production. Likewise, at the very end, when all the named singers walked to the front part of the passerelle, Christopher Maltman (Figaro) handed out business cards to several front-row patrons.
Bartlett Sher’s production uses generally 'traditional' costumes, 18th-19th century or pretty close thereabouts. However, he doesn’t use heavy, "monumental" sets that uber-traditionalists like Franco Zeffirelli would use. Instead, he uses several fly-away panels that double as doors, and a steep staircase with a front section to represent the inside of Bartolo’s house with the balcony. On the debit side, Sher does do some stage business during the overture which really wasn’t needed, and distracted momentarily from enjoying the orchestra play the overture on its own. Likewise, he lowered a huge anvil from the ceiling at the end of Act I, mirroring the text where the characters go on about how crazy things are going and how their heads hurt, like the sounds of hammers on anvils. IMHO, it's superfluous to reproduce an image like that what already is said in words. Some of the avoidance of hyper-literalism can be occasionally puzzling, like why a fruit tree seems to be indoors. But if nothing else, the relatively spare sets give the singers a lot of room to maneuver, without getting lost on stage.
While this production is a revival, there’s nothing second-tier about this cast, as CdF-W noted:
"The Met's production is glossy, sweet and rich in laughs. And it has stars: Lawrence Brownlee makes a dashing Almaviva, singing with a focused, ardent tenor. Isabel Leonard is a pitch-perfect Rosina, cute but sharp clawed, dispatching Rossini’s dizzying runs and ornaments with stenciled precision. Maurizio Muraro owns the role of Bartolo, his diction flawless in the rapid-fire patter arias. Paata Burchuladze was a sly, gravelly Basilio."
And, of course, one mustn’t forget the Barber of Seville himself, Figaro, again per CdF-W:
"The title role was sung by the charismatic baritone Christopher Maltman, who made a spectacular entrance atop a wagon pulled by adoring citizens. He oozed sex appeal during his opening aria, 'Largo al factotum,' wearing a magnificent red Phrygian cap like a royal insignia."
During the intermission feature, in fact, Voigt and Maltman did their chat on that very passerelle, which is the first time that I’ve ever seen a intermission feature done from inside the house itself, where the audience is, rather than simply back stage. Since this is a revival, I don’t know if in the earlier HD-transmission of this production (with a different cast, of course), they did an intermission feature then on that same stage extension.
One thing about the leads in this cast is that they’re all quite young and attractive, reflecting the newer generation of opera singers (compared to past stereotypes), who not only do the extensive voice training, but also go to the gym and work out. So Figaro isn't just a burly, lovable lug who is happy to help Rosina escape from Bartolo and get together with Almaviva, but in the form of Maltman in this production, is also a hunky guy with his share of female hangers-on, as shown in his opening scene, like in this clip from the final dress rehearsal:
In all this, it would be too easy to overlook the conductor of this production, namely Michele Mariotti, particularly as he isn’t a household name as conductors go. To be honest, given the Met's roster of second-string conductors, several of whom happen to be Italian, I wasn’t expecting much besides a generally professional and competent reading. While it was certainly that, it was also a nice surprise to observe Mariotti's conducting manner and to see that it wasn’t too showy or overemphatic. He has a fine sense of style and generally elegant gestures. Plus, he supported the singers well, particularly just at those moments when the singers are on that front part of the passerelle, and thus if they’re facing the audience, they can’t see the conductor, nor can the conductor turn away from the orchestra to follow the singers. It's at moments like that when the musicians all really have to listen to each other.
One also has to mention the one stage performer who didn't have anything to sing, namely Rob Besserer as the elderly and very much put-upon servant Ambrogio. He's done up to look like the ultimate decrepit servant, and of course plays his partly without breaking into a smile once, except at the very end when he took his bow. Of course, the audience gave him a huge round of applause. Speaking of comedy, Muraro as Bartolo had plenty of chances for some quick shtick, like slipping into a funny high voice mimicking IL's Rosina, but IL is no comic slouch herself, as she is a self-confessed 'goofball', and indulged in her share of mugging that was never OTT, but fit right in. She's definitely on the list of rising stars at the Met, and no doubt will feature more and more there in years to come.
So overall, this was a fun afternoon at the opera, with no pretensions to seriousness (unless you really, really want to over-analyze Bartolo's treatment of Rosina as too much of men treating women like property back in the day), and guaranteed to send audiences out smiling. It certainly went that way this afternoon at the movie house. With that, time to either:
(a) Talk about this HD-cast, or
(b) Observe the standard SNLC protocol.
Or you can indulge option (c). No prizes for guessing what that is :) .