Composed by Mozart

Libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte

Conducted by James Gaffigan

Directed, Set and Costume by Kirill Serebrennikov

Review by Dominic Corr

Festival Theatre: Tickets

Sometimes, the best conceits are in the realms of subtlety. And even with opera’s penchant for taking things to a more lurid level of extravagance, at least visually, there is always room for it. Kirill Serebrenbbnikov’s take on Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro drenches itself in such lustre and superficial appearance that it loses itself amidst the champagne and contemporary art it is so eager to lampoon; its reflective surfaces capture its visage as much as the aristocracy it targets. But oh, what an incredible-sounding production. And really, we could forgive the sins for this, no?

Falling victim to its shallow imagery, undoubtedly, The Marriage of Figaro looks remarkably crisp and compelling with its symbolisms and shiny surfaces. Immediately, there’s an Upstairs, Downstairsmeets Crossroads-vibe to the aesthetics of Serebrenbbnikov’sset – utilising the entirety of the Festival Theatre’s enormous production space. Below is an incredibly articulate and accurate replication of a basement laundrette/locker-room set-up for the staff – upstairs, a pristine exaggeration of the luxury and self-indulgences associated with wealth and contemporary art galleries. But it’s all distractions, bells and whistles, which don’t necessarily add to the piece as a whole – and if anything, offer distraction, mainly when elements of the movement are mixed into dream sequences to ramp up the tension and violence. All to a hollow end.

In the cruellest of ways – if one were to shut their eyes (and sacrifice the tremendously stylised and often gorgeously utilised lighting, swithering from crimsons to golden dawns, with plenty of flesh on show too) Marriage of Figaro is an exceptionally talented recital under the helm of James Gaffigan’s conduction of the Komische Oper Berlin – controlled and pitched, never overplaying the vocals, never surrendering a presence either. It is faultless vocally and instrumentally – a production where the women are in control; the vocals of Penny Sofroniadou carry the more indecipherable elements of the story, with genuine chemistry with all, especially Peter Kellner’s gorgeous bass-toned Figaro, while the warmer and earnest presence of Verity Wingate’s Countess rounds out the productions more obscure elements of direction, as Hubert Zapiór’s clean-freak and controlling Count gets their moment in the second act, their aria rising and plummeting with solid control and staging – however brief a moment it may be.

Though it may not appeal to all, the decision to divide the role of Cherubino between two performers – one, performer Georgy Kudrenko, incorporates sign language to communicate with sensational and emotive expressions. At the same time, Patricia Nolz’s utterly gorgeous vocals carry Kudrenko’s words to the audience, and the cast is, in concept, inspired, but the once Lothario and delicious role now skirts far too heavily on the line of inappropriate and muddles the character connections and romances. There’s a subtlety here for self-love, as Cherubino (Kudrenko) and Cherubina (Nolz) come ‘together’ with the best use of metaphorical casting and visuals within a production otherwise as subtle as its neon signage.

Conceptually, The Marriage of Figaro is, truthfully, bold and different. The story of a pair ready to marry, seeking to punish the lecherous Count and heal the heart of the sympathetic Countess – it’s a basic premise but overly complicated here. Its habit of falling into its own traps makes it stumble more often than a performance of this scale should. It picks a middle ground, neither accessible for those unfamiliar nor inspired enough for those too familiar – landing in that awkward and cramped space crushed between.

Striking, even beautiful in its design, The Marriage of Figaro is anything but a happy union of vision and sound with a vocal and instrumentally ensemble of tremendous talent trapped in a sea of decisions that reduce rather than showcase. The storytelling falters, no matter how pristine the music is, draped in much regalia that is wholly unnecessary outside of spectacle. The real spectacle, the true beauty here, is within the performers and the sounds, not in the fantasy it continues to attempt to capture.

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