The star of this Covent Garden revival of The Marriage of Figaro is very much the show itself. Sir David McVicar’s 2006 production is a Royal Opera favourite, a classic brought back just about every other season; this run will take the number of performances to 96. Tanya McCallin’s handsome sets and lavish costumes still catch the eye, as do the golden hues of Paule Constable’s lighting. As in 2013 and 2022, McVicar has returned to direct this revival himself and it scrubs up very well indeed.
It’s a gently subversive staging. McVicar transposes the action beyond the Age of Enlightenment to a French château in 1830, so the men wear breeches and frock coats. It is the eve of the July revolution that saw the end of the restored Bourbon monarchy. The challenge to Conte Almaviva’s authority is very real.
McVicar sets the scene brilliantly in the bustling overture. A tiny maid mops the floor while servants ferry supplies to the kitchen, flirting and exchanging gossip on the way. It’s a household that thrives on scandal and intrigue – every time a door is opened, there are servants earwigging behind it. The political temperature is ripe for boiling over into revolt, but the revolution in Figaro is surely a deft, cunning one, the servants working in alliance with the Countess to expose the Count’s behaviour and shame him into an apology. When Mattia Olivieri’s Figaro angrily shouts into his master’s face in Act 3, it’s a shocking moment.
Musically, there was much to savour. Conductor Joana Mallwitz was making her house debut (although you wouldn’t know it from the ROH programme) and displayed many of the strengths of her Salzburg Festival Così fan tutte in the pandemic summer of 2020: crisp, clean playing, meticulously phrased if without – yet – the energy that Antonio Pappano and John Eliot Gardiner injected or the humanity that Colin Davis and Charles Mackerras displayed in earlier incarnations of this production. The orchestra was a little too loud in Act 1, but the pit-stage balance soon settled.
In the leading roles, the men were stronger than the ladies, although both Olivieri and Stéphane Degout were close to hectoring in their virile interpretations, a battle of machismos. Olivieri has a bright, incisive baritone and sank his teeth into the text firmly in his role debut. “Non più andrai” had plenty of bite, as did his cynical Act 4 aria where Figaro implores men to open their eyes to women’s deceit. His acting veered towards the hyperactive, always busy, always the centre of attention. Degout was a seething Almaviva, barely able to contain his frustration at events conspiring against him, erupting in a furious “Hai già vinto la causa!”, with some awkward ornaments disguised as bitter laughter.
In another role debut, Siobhan Stagg sang Susanna nicely, the highlight being a charming “Deh, vieni, non tardar” in the garden scene. Her voice is quite compact, often put in the shade by Olivieri’s more robust presence. Susanna is the lynchpin in Figaro but Stagg doesn’t yet display the sparky personality needed to rule the roost. As the Contessa, Hrachuhí Bassénz isn’t the most natural Mozartian; her dark soprano lacks cream, although her “Dove sono” was well received by the audience. Anna Stéphany sang Cherubino mellifluously (a beautiful “Voi, che sapete), if a little short on testosterone.
Dorothea Röschmann, the divine Contessa when McVicar’s production opened, was luxury casting here as Marcellina, still in terrific voice and relishing the comedy (no Act 4 aria alas). As Bartolo, Maurizio Muraro sang an energetic “Vendetta”, patter tripping off his tongue with ease. Krystian Adam and Peter Bronder were effective as Dons Basilio and Curzio, while one could almost smell the mud on the boots of Jeremy White’s seasoned Antonio. Barbarina was deliciously sung by Sarah Dufresne, a Susanna in the making for sure.
