A rollicking Rossini
Barber of Seville takes audience on a riotous comic roller coaster
REVIEW What: The Barber of Seville Where: Royal Theatre When: Tonight, Feb. 17, 19, 21 Rating: Four out of five
It’s hard to imagine anyone disliking The Barber of Seville.
Of course, Rossini’s rollicking opera buffa is as frothy as a Valentine’s Day bubble bath (you do have one planned, don’t you?). And it is awfully familiar, whether you’re a regular opera-goer or someone who has heard the music via Bugs Bunny cartoons.
But I’d venture to say, if you don’t love a good Barber of Seville (and this is a good one), you don’t love life. There’s sex, money, deception, jealousy, betrayal. There are furtive note-swappings, amusing disguises, people hiding behind pillars. And seeing it again, we’re reminded how beautiful — and clever — the music truly is.
Pacific Opera Victoria has hatched a lively, springy Barber worth seeking out. There’s some strong singing, particularly from baritone Peter McGillivray as Dr. Bartolo and mezzo-soprano Sylvia Szadovszki as Rosina. The direction is sure-footed, with the opera becoming increasingly rollicking as it progresses. The whimsical period costumes are bold. And the set is astoundingly beautiful.
Often, The Barber of Seville is presented as a pure yuk-fest. Certainly, the temptation is there. Director Morris Panych’s vision is different. In the first half, he does retain the opera’s inherent humour (it is a farce, after all). At the same time, Panych avoids overdoing it, allowing the possibility that Figaro, Count Almaviva, Rosina, Bartolo, et al. are indeed real people.
In the second half, the comedy is allowed to run rampant like a gaggle of rambunctious youngsters released for recess. During the music-lesson scene, the dis- guised count (wearing a curly wig) cheekily pushed Bartolo’s pot-belly. Then he goosed Rosina with his crotch.
One of Panych’s most memorable directorial sequences is the Act I finale. This is Fredda ed immobile ( Awestruck and immovable), a riotous comic sextet that roars like a fast-track train. Taking a literal cue from the lyrics, the singers move like robots and freeze in statue-like poses.
It’s a terrific touch — and there are many in this Barber. I loved how one of Rosina’s letters abruptly wafted heavenwards. Also compellingly, often a performer held a lantern up to illuminate another character. This happens once again, significantly, at the opera’s denouement — providing a lovely image, a literal “shedding of light” on the plot’s threads, now neatly tied in a bow.
On Thursday night, McGillivray received the most vocal applause at curtain. He’s a fine singer, particularly impressive during A un dottor della mia sorte, when a jealous Bartolo interrogates and lectures Rosina.
McGillivray is also a gifted comic actor, one of those performers able to project humour and whimsy with a gesture or look. His turns were among the most enjoyable of the evening.
No one sang better than Szadovszki, who makes a suitably pretty and charming Rosina. Displaying a lush, attractive voice, the young mezzo impressed with her clarity and projection. Singing with a nicely rounded vibrato, Szadovszki navigated treacherously tricky coloratura passages with aplomb.
Her aria Una voce poco fa (in which the feisty Rosina promises she can sting like a viper as well as being gentle) was wonderful, especially the thrilling high notes.
Baritone Clarence Frazer is a solid Figaro, offering a pleasingly cocky version Largo al factotum, one of opera’s most famous tunes. The surtitles mysteriously vanished during this one, but we still got the idea. Bass-baritone Giles Tomkins, as Don Basilio, also sang well.
Tenor Antonio Figueroa, playing Count Almaviva, is a good actor who looks the part. The singer’s strength lies in his lyricism. At times — such as his first song in which he serenades Rosina — his florid passages seemed laboured. And on this night, some high-register notes lacked heft.
The Victoria Symphony, conducted by Timothy Vernon, was appropriately light and dexterous. This was particularly apparent during the overture, which reminded my companion of champagne bubbles.
Arguably, the most unforgettable component of this Barber of Seville is its jaw-dropping set. Designed by Ken MacDonald, one of Canada’s most gifted set designers, it is inspired by the organic architecture of Antoni Gaudí.
Beautifully lit, it’s like a fantastic confection, both modern and timeless, a magnificent cake decoration, perhaps. Towers and other edifices resemble giant white paper cut-outs, curled and curving in a delightful way. Serpentine decorations are subtly painted onto the buildings, like etchings on glassware. Oranges dot white trees. It’s a work of art, really.