At the start of Michael Grandage’s Figaro, first seen in 2012, the period is uncertain. The servants preparing for somebody’s imminent arrival outside the Moorish mansion – the first of Christopher Oram’s sequence of outstanding sets – could be from any number of different eras, but gradually hints emerge, and when Count and Countess Almaviva arrive in their sports car, we know we’re in the 1960s. Throughout the rest of the show such wittily style-conscious visuals are maintained.
But the minute specifics of character and interaction – Ian Rutherford is credited as revival director – are equally scrupulously disclosed. Rarely does the complicated intrigue whose details come thick and fast in Mozart’s comedy register as sharply as here, or their impact on the domestic circle of the Almaviva household feel so momentous.
Under Jonathan Cohen’s taut yet effervescent musical direction the intricacies of the score make their appreciable marks, too, with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment on responsive form.
There are no weak links in the cast. With a wardrobe apparently borrowed from Austin Powers, Gyula Orendt’s constantly flummoxed Count voices his near continuous anger in an incisive baritone, while in Davide Luciano’s Figaro fundamental good humour alternates with trenchantly expressed volatility.
But it’s the women who are exceptional. It’s hard to imagine finer soprano singing or more exuberant portrayals of Susanna and the Countess than those supplied by Rosa Feola and Golda Schultz respectively, while Natalia Kawalek’s luminous mezzo and acutely observed teenage male mannerisms make her an ideal Cherubino.
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