Photo:
Laurent Guizard
Suzanne Daumann
How
to stage an opera that has been produced in so many different ways already? How
to avoid the trap of originality at any price? In
this production of Théâtre National de Lorraine, represented in Rennes in
May/June 2012, Jean
Liermier has found an answer that is simple, elegant and it works.
His staging simply follows the libretto and does without any unnecessary
gesticulation, acrobatics and strip tease. He creates an ambiance of the roaring
twenties, where the couple count and countess of Almaviva are young, elegant,
glamorous, whereas the couple Susanna – Figaro are the classic servants, clad in
servants’ uniforms: a blue and black striped dress for Susanna, and the usual
chambermaid’s bib, a black suit for Figaro, his red waistcoat is embroidered
with what must be the Almaviva arms, and he is seen to wear a chauffeur’s cap as
well. Werner
Strub’s costumes clearly show the social difference which the plot
and most of all the music will later wipe out.
Raffaela Milanesi is playing the
countess, a proud and wounded woman, with passion and dignity. Elegant from her
little toe to the highest pianissimo that makes our hair stand on end, she shows
at the same time those simple emotions that make her a touching human being. She
plays the whole of the second act clad in a simple sexy silken nightgown without
losing any of her aplomb, and without it taking any of the comic effects of the
formidable final. This is performed with the proper comedy tempo, gags and puns
are tight on the ground, we are laughing wholeheartedly, we are moved by what is
almost a reconciliation, we are angry with Figaro at butting in and ruining it,
and we are laughing again about Antonio (very funny in a cook’s hat and an
interesting voice as well: Jean
Segani) and his flowerpots, and so on – admiring all the while the
subtlety of the composition which the Orchestre de Bretagne is rendering
faithfully here. Conducted with insight and spirit by Ernesto Martinez Izquierdo, the orchestra
is a character in its own right, laughing, commenting, sighing, singing along,
and adding this special dimension to the work we love so well and over and over
again. Caterina di Tonno,
crystal clear and supple of voice, is playing a Susanna who is a simple woman,
unfailingly optimist, and tenderly funny. The duet in act 3, this manifesto of
feminine solidarity, works wonderfully between those two women, in spite of or
maybe because of the contrast between the countess, elegant and lost in a green,
loosely waving trouser-dress, that might come straight out of “The Great Gatsby”
and Susanna’s simple and naïve wedding dress of white with big red dots.
Cherubino is the mezzo-soprano Hélène Delalande. A rich voice with something
like almost male metal in it and a long slim boyish figure make her a very
credible and lovable Cherubino, all of amorous feelings and awkwardness. We
should have liked to hear more of the rich and full voice of Kathleen Wilkinson – a pity that
Marcellina has been robbed of her aria. The same goes for Léonard Pezzino (Don Basilio), whose clear and
slightly bragging tenor voice makes the furtive singing master credible indeed.
Vincent Billier is
portraying Don Bartolo, pretentious and human (although we don’t quite
understand if he is a lawyer or a medical man actually). The count of Almaviva
is an elegantly simple man here: like a child, he wants what he sees, especially
when it belongs to someone else, and now he wants Susanna. Like a child, he
cannot understand why he can’t always get what he wants. Kevin Greewlaw gives depth and
credibility to his character who finds himself duped at the end of every scene:
amorous, unbelieving, angry – he is credible and still elegant in all of those
changes, and sings his grand aria with lots of spirit and subtlety. Youri Kissin is Figaro, and his comic
talent seems to surpass his talents as a singer, the first arias are frankly
forced and a bit dry, although he seems to have found his voice by act 4 where
he thunders very creditably through the aria. His Figaro seems a bit pale next
to a Susanna full of energy and good humour. All the voices, however, blend
beautifully in the ensembles, and the recitatives are admirably fine,
accompanied with much delicacy by Alessandro Bicci on the harpsichord, who
follows carefully every word and intonation. The Choir of Rennes Opéra, led by
Gildas Pungier, is
distinguishing itself once more by its subtle and nuanced singing.
The
sets by Philippe Miesch are
another variation on the theme of elegant simplicity: act one is played in a
slightly sombre ambiance: the servants’ quarters, which look much like in
“Upstairs, Downstairs”. The countess’s room for act two is very bright and the
essence of elegant simplicity with just a bed, the necessary doors and a window
that lets in such sunny light that we seem to feel the summer breeze that plays
with the leaves outside (Jean-Philippe
Roy has done a good job with the lighting all over), a clothes-rack
with her dressing-gown and her guitar. Act three is set in a hall in the castle,
bright again, and again there is mostly doors and windows, an ashtray and a
bench where the count and the countess will sing their arias and marry the
happier couples, killing each other with looks all the while, and Susanna write
a letter, no more. Act four takes place in the castle’s wine cellar, a rather
dark place, but a stair in the background leads up to a festively lit garden.
The final is again performed at breakneck tempo, no time to catch our breath
before the (real!) fireworks (giant sparklers, what fun!) and happy end, and we
leave the house with a feeling of contentment at a truly lovely
performance. A
pity that a few latecomers had to enter the house when Figaro and Susanna had
begun their duets, we would have preferred to hear their discussion instead or
our neighbours taking their seats…
