The opening moments of the ENO’s revival of The Marriage of Figaro ooze style and wit, as doors swing open and characters artfully pose before subtly adjusting their expressions—a sly nod to the curated perfection of our Instagram age. From the outset, it promises exceptional acting, refined vocals, and a playful score tying everything together.
Summarizing the plot of The Marriage of Figaro in a few lines is no small feat. At its heart is Figaro, eager to marry Susanna, a union thwarted by Count Almaviva’s intention to invoke the archaic droit de seigneur—the right to seduce Susanna before her wedding. Naturally, Susanna and the Countess Almaviva are not having it. Further complicating matters, Figaro owes money and, without repayment, is legally bound to marry the much older Marcellina. What unfolds is a riotous farce: secret letters, mistaken identities, cross-dressing boys, much leaping through windows, and more scheming than an entire season of Footballers’ Wives.
Under the masterful direction of Joe Hill-Gibbins, the production displayed impeccable timing and coordination. Conductor Ainãrs Rubikis brought boundless energy to the pit, perfectly pacing the chaos onstage. His infectious enthusiasm culminated in a moment where his baton went flying—a gesture retrieved with the speed of a true farce.
Vocally, the cast delivered exceptional performances, each singer enhancing the richness of Mozart’s sublime score.
Mary Bevan’s Susanna was a bundle of nerves and tension, capturing the essence of a woman accustomed to catering to the whims of aristocratic mistresses. Her bright soprano effortlessly capturing the character’s mix of anxiety and wit. She brought warmth and vulnerability to her arias, particularly Deh vieni, non tardar, sung with breathtaking tenderness.
Nardus Williams’ Countess Almaviva was equally impressive, her luxurious tone and expressive phrasing elevating the poignant Porgi, amor and Dove sono to moments of genuine emotional depth. Williams balanced dignity and heartbreak with ease, creating a compelling portrait of a woman grappling with betrayal even when draped in an unflattering polyester robe.
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David Ireland’s Figaro had charm in spades, his resonant bass-baritone perfectly suited to the character’s wit and cunning. Whether plotting against the Count or tenderly singing to Susanna, he brought warmth, humour and vitality to the role.
The standout comedic performance came from Hanna Hipp as Cherubino. Neon-clad and gangly, Hipp embodied the awkward adolescent with limbs flailing at odd angles, eliciting genuine laughter with every gawky movement. Her rich, velvety mezzo was ideally suited to the lovestruck adolescent, radiating charm and boyish yearning.
However, the casting hit a snag with Cody Quattlebaum’s Count Almaviva. Quattlebaum was simply too captivating—too much Greek god, too little lecherous lord. His charisma and swagger were such that any woman would have gladly accepted his advances, making his portrayal more seductive than sinister. Damned by his good looks he redeemed himself through his superb baritone. His commanding vocal presence was undeniable and he deftly conveyed both menace and vulnerability. His duet with the Countess in Act III was a vocal highlight, revealing layers of emotional complexity that added nuance to his portrayal.
Johannes Schütz’s set design aimed for modernist minimalism but fell flat. The concept—ingenious in its engineering, allowed the stage to rise and fall to reveal the garden below—lacked refinement. The result was a sterile white box with cheap-looking contract doors, reminiscent of a budget B&Q renovation. At times, it felt more fitting for Sartre’s Huis Clos than a sumptuous Mozart opera. I confess I spent too much time wondering what lay behind those uninspired doors.
Matthew Richardson’s lighting design, however, provided bursts of visual intrigue. Vibrant pinks and greens periodically bathed the stage, enhancing the futuristic arty ambiance. The costumes by Astrid Klein fell victim to frumpiness: think amateur dramatics in church halls—white smocks, red stockings, dingy brown suits and cheap bathrobes and little else to excite the eye.
Visually, I found myself longing for ENO’s golden era: the monochrome grandeur of The Mikado, the kaleidoscopic carnival of Così fan tutte, and the spellbinding acrobatics of Akhnaten.
Yet what this production lacked in visual flair, it triumphed in spirit. The vivacity of the performances, the crystalline vocals, and the precision of the ensemble carried the evening. The Marriage of Figaro reminded us that, even without lavish spectacle, Mozart’s genius lies in the music—and this ENO cast made sure we felt it.
The Marriage of Figaro opens on Wednesday 5 February 2025 for 7 performances Feb 5,7,12,14,17,20 at 19.00. Feb 22 at 14.00.
Tickets can be purchased from the ENO website
Under 21s can get free opera tickets to all ENO performances at every level of the theatre and 21-35 year olds can get discounted opera tickets. Tickets for everyone begin at £10.
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