Opera Hamilton’s subtly realized and thoroughly entertaining production of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro satisfies in so many ways. Right at the outset, the overture is conducted by the much-travelled Gordon Gerrard for a lightness of energy and buoyancy of momentum, rather than the punctuation of grand musical lines with big chords of which, in Mozart, there are many. Such assertive understatement, in turn, welcomes many nuances in singing at which this vocally-notable cast excels. Director Brent Krysa, in the initial plot setting banter between Figaro and Susanna, immediately shows a knack, as he will throughout, for implying relationships of covert complexity. We have playful power trips, established habits of communication, Figaro with a slightly mocking stance, and Susanna with latent fire waiting for ignition. They are appealingly casual with their intimate connection.
Above all, this is a domestic situation and each character is defined not by anticipated stereotyping but by situation. Figaro, sung with unforced magnetism by Stephen Hegedus, thus isn’t one to automatically lay on the charm and manipulative smarts without actual need, but instead proves indeed to be an ever-ready serving man who must come to terms with each crisis as it arises. There is an everyday feeling to the man, he is an appealing regular guy, and, in turn, his warm baritone is unshowy and conversational. Nathalie Paulin’s Susanna is a sharply defined beauty who conveys a latent sexual savvy as her tonal variety echoes many shades of personality. She is feisty and, as well as being heartfelt, is also the most felt-up Susanna ever, I would suspect – there isn’t a hand in this bunch that doesn’t settle upon her breast.
Katherine Whyte’s Countess, slightly more velvet-coated vocally than Ms. Paulin, is delicately heartbreaking in “Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro” but, with an interesting turn, she seems less inwardly fragile than much attuned to the delicacy of the human heart. She is also a woman of instinctively flirtatious eyes and smile, a woman of warm and somewhat fleshy radiance. Brent Polegato’s handsome Count, a disconcerting double for Gerry Lee Lewis in his early days, is decidedly masculine yet lyrical of voice, with shades of a dark and dangerous and volatile center on one hand and a charmingly human vulnerability on the other. He seems to live on the edge and is ready to take anyone about him over that same edge. When I checked, it was no surprise at all that Don Giovanni sits in his extensive repertoire.
This is a very sexy cast who take the implicit sexuality of this production in stride, surrounded as they are by walls covered with nude gals in a style that resembles Boucher going on Watteau going on Cezanne. In this spirit, Ariana Chris’s Cherubino, a young writhing fellow of uncontrolled and self-indulgent horniness and very nervous energy, is hilarious as he strokes the bare bottoms on the wall. Song by a mezzo, the part is played to the hilt for sexual ambiguity and Ms. Chris is slightly over the top and delicious. The asexual presence of Daniel Lichti’s Bartolo, Lynn Mc Murtry’s Macellina, and Gerald Isaac’s Bassilio/ Don Curzio, all appealing of voice and distinct in characterization, are thus doubly amusing in contrast.
As said, the setting is a household, albeit one of nobility, and, as far as one hears in this production, the cast have little need to present stadium voices in showpiece arias. Instead, they offer voices of tonal charm and agile nuance that, whenever dramatically required, shape vocal lines with potency and resonance that actually evolve from each characterization. Mozart’s famous music and Da Ponte’s famous libretto are consistently shown to serve each other and every aria thus seems a natural part of the narrative. Thanks to all involved, this is theatre as opera should be; we are without fail taken in by a collective and cohesive effort that creates a new world, not as a classic from the past but as experience in present tense.
This production is directed and conducted for undercurrents of personality and situation. There is less emphasis on types as on everyday individuals who must find resources to survive. Types, as we have often seen, are already defined, but these folks come into being before our eyes in this thoroughly integrated show. It is a mark of this production’s subtly dramatic qualities that the audience pays attention to each word sung and responds accordingly. One feels that even in cinematic close up each character would seem unforced and natural. Without flaunting its dramatic or musical theatricality, this production entertains through and through.