La Bohème review: Puccini’s genius lay in mingling comedy and tragedy

Those nostalgic for the period setting of John Copley’s 1974 production will find 1820s frocks and bonnets in abundance.

At the same time, there is a heightened zing about designer Stewart Laing’s setting that creates the hectic mood of people grabbing at a slice of life.

The stark first act of bare rafters and one single chair for the bohemian students’ garret, looks more like a piece of contemporary sculpture than anywhere liveable.

Landlord Benoit (Jeremy White) obviously doesn’t have the comfort of his tenants in mind and the minuscule stove into which Rodolfo feeds his manuscript as kindling is unfit for purpose.

The contrast with Act Two could not be more marked as the young bohemians invade Paris’s elegant shopping malls, which are crammed with the Royal Opera’s chorus wearing exaggerated “Quality Street” costumes.

Parpignol is not an itinerant pedlar but has his own shop selling expensive toys to crowds of little consumers.

The malls slide away to reveal Café Momus as a posh restaurant with white linen table cloths, more suited to the likes of Alcindoro, Musetta’s muchmaligned sugar daddy, than a bunch of impoverished students.

Puccini’s genius lay in mingling comedy and tragedy, romance and farce. In the first act romance blossoms between Michael Fabiano’s poet Rodolfo and Nicole Car’s seamstress Mimi over a game of lost keys. In the second act, the anguish of Mariusz Kwiecien’s painter Marcello is emphasised by the attention-hogging tactics of Simona Mihai’s Musetta. She even takes off her knickers while table-dancing and drops them on Marcello’s head.

The mortified face of Wyn Pencarreg’s younger than usual state councillor at his squeeze’s behaviour is hilarious to behold.

In the third act laughter gives way to hard facts of life as Rodolfo reflects on his inability to provide for Mimi’s worsening tuberculosis. Marcello’s work, painting the tavern, brings more friction to his relationship with Musetta when she gives impromptu singing lessons to the clientele.

The mood crystallises as the young people look death in the face. The two other bohemians come into their own at this point.

Luca Tittoto gives a masterly rendering of philosopher Colline’s ode to the overcoat he will pawn to buy medicine for Mimi.

Florian Sempey’s musician Schaunard keeps watch over Mimi, the only one to see the moment she slips quietly away. Australian soprano Nicole Car is ideal casting as Mimi. She has a warm tone, expressive characterisation and a smile that lights up her face.

Simona Mihai is radiant as the flighty Musetta and baritone Mariusz Kwiecien is in virile form as Marcello.

Tenor Michael Fabiano’s ardent Rodolfo earns the storm of applause at the end.

The Royal Opera’s orchestra under Antonio Pappano gives an inspired account of the score.

See it live in cinemas on October 3 (roh.org.uk/cinemas).