Wacky, refreshing barber is a real cut-up
The Barber of Seville
K (out of 4) By Gioachino Rossini. Directed by Joan Font. Conducted by Rory Macdonald. Until May 22 at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, 145 Queen St. W., coc.ca or 416-363-8231.
My definition of a snob has always been someone who can listen to the overture to The Barber of Seville and not think of Bugs Bunny.
I am proud to admit that when conductor Rory Macdonald led the Canadian Opera Company orchestra through a lettuce-crisp rendition of that overture at the Friday night opening, I did entertain some thoughts of the wascally wabbit, and they weren’t exactly obliterated by the freewheeling, frequently cartoonish production of Rossini’s classic that director Joan Font has graced us with.
For the most part, his wacky comedy style actually fits well with this convoluted tale of mistaken identities, baffling disguises and a general feeling that all’s fair in love and war. Especially love.
You’ll find a generous dose of commedia dell’arte, some good old-fashioned musical comedy and — not as welcome — a lot of lurking mimes who look like they took not-earlyenough retirement from one of Cirque du Soleil’s less successful companies. Sorry, folks, it’s not my thing.
What is my thing, however, is fullbodied charm and great comedy timing, both of which the opera’s two leads, Alek Shrader (Count Almaviva) and Joshua Hopkins (Figaro, the eponymous barber), have in abundance.
The two guys have a kind of Seth Rogen-James Franco buddy-buddy thing going, which makes a lot of the comic plotting on which the opera is based come to refreshing life. When Shrader appears as an overly fussy music teacher with a Liberace-esque flair for keyboard gymnastics, you’ll find yourself laughing hysterically.
And all that Hopkins has to do is flash his endearingly crooked grin and the world is his. The fact that both men sing their roles with superb clarity and attack makes them even more valuable.
Renato Girolami actually succeeds in making Doctor Bartolo (one of those grim Pantalone characters you love to hate and hate to love) an endearing presence on the stage by the virtue of taking himself seriously, always a wise strategy in comedy.
And as Rosina, the oppressed ward and sought-after love object of the piece, Serena Malfi is lovely to look at, delightful to hear and possessed of a wicked twinkle that makes it all hang together beautifully.
I must admit to being of two schools of thought about Joan Guillén’s oddly constructivist set. At times it looked like the framework of a monster home in Thornhill that was waiting for the drywall to arrive, but I did enjoy the whimsy of the giant piano that served as a multi-purpose set piece for the second half of the show.
His costumes also had a delicious flair to them, but if the ever-reliable COC Chorus has ever had to wear anything quite as silly as the pinkplumed police outfits they flaunt here, I’ve yet to see them.
Albert Faura’s lighting is also anoth- er mystery. The first 20 minutes of the show took place in such darkness that one wondered if the lighting board had blown a few key dimmers. But eventually things brightened up, although the overall effect was so patchy I have no idea what was intended.
If the evening went up and down visually and comedically, it never faltered musically, with the promise of that bright, crunchy overture fulfilled by conductor Macdonald for the rest of the evening.
All in all, this is an entertaining and enjoyable version of The Barber of Seville, not one of the COC’s greatest evenings, but certainly not one of those outrageous re-imaginings that send the opening night audience out looking for ripe fruit at intermission so they can pelt the creative team with it at the curtain call.
And the Shrader-Hopkins team may be the best comedic male pairing since Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. Maybe the COC could change the name of this opera to The Road to Seville.
Why not? Stranger things have happened on the stage of the Four Seasons Centre in recent years.