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The Count Turned Mobster and His Love Chair München
Nationaltheater
07/03/2025 - & May 16, 20, 24, 2026
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro, K. 492
Björn Bürger*/Gerald Finley (Il conte di Almaviva), Maria Bengtsson*/Diana Damrau (La contessa di Almaviva), Julie Fuchs*/Joélle Harvey (Susanna), Philippe Sly*/Riccardo Fassi (Figaro), Emily D’Angelo*/Kate Lindsey (Cherubino), Dorothea Röschmann*/Juliane Banse (Marcellina), Willard White*/Martin Snell (Bartolo), Tansel Akzeybek (Basilio), Kevin Conners (Curzio), Eirin Rognenud*/Iana Aivazian (Barbarina), Martin Snell*/Roman Chabaranok (Antonio), Seonwoo Lee*, Ekaterine Buachidze*/Nontobeko Bhengu, Lucy Altus (Due donne)
Chorus of the Bayerische Staatsoper, Franz Obermair (chorus master), Orchestra of the Bayerische Staatsoper, Susanna Mälkki*/Patrick Hahn (conductor)
Evgeny Titov (stage director), Annemarie Woods (sets & costumes), D.M. Wood (lighting)
(© Geoffroy Schied)
The entire plot of Mozart’s fabled opera Le nozze di Figaro (1786), based on Beaumarchais’s play La Folle journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro (1784), takes place in one day. The frenzied action in Lorenzo Da Ponte’s exceptionally well‑written libretto makes it one of the most dramatically compact and successful operas. A brilliant staging of the work makes one feel this quick pace of action.
Beaumarchais’s play, which preceded the French Revolution by a mere five years, was a forebearer of the turmoil and violence to come. It was a biting critique of class‑structured society and took the side of underlings Figaro and Susanna, demonstrating that servants can outwit their masters. A director, even one with minimal knowledge of history and theatre (Beaumarchais’s play is part of the theatrical canon, after all) ought to consider this class tension the opera’s driving force.
Alas, Kazakhstan-born actor/director Evgeny Titov, a veteran theatre director relatively new to opera, failed on both fronts, neglecting the inherent, obvious paths to success for this opera: class tensions and the required frenzied pace, described earlier. Instead, sex seemed to be the prism through which he viewed Da Ponte’s brilliant libretto. Unfortunately, by transporting the story to the present, several foundations of the opera crumble: the importance of class structure, the sacredness of marital vows and chastity, and compulsory military service for Cherubini.
The centrepiece of Annemarie Woods’ hideous sets was a “sex chair” with dildos that could be levered up into the person seated by pushing a handle. It’s located in a sex dungeon, the very room allocated by Count Almaviva for the soon‑to‑wed Figaro and Susanna. We gradually learn that the Count is a sex‑crazed masochist who enjoys being sexually abused. The dilapidated dwelling and unfinished renovations reveal serious financial problems he is trying to resolve by running a marijuana grow‑op in his home. Titov would have done better to write a new work rather than “stage” the Mozart/Da Ponte masterpiece.
In the sex-and-drug crazed Almaviva household, music teacher Don Basilio is dressed in rubber and works in the grow‑op. His mission is to convince Susanna to accept the Count’s advances. Titov’s Basilio is as sex‑crazed as his employer, and his primary mission seems to be to bed Susanna himself. Sung by German character tenor Tansel Akzeybek, this Basilio was more a sexual predator than the slimy entremetteur of Da Ponte’s libretto. As such, Akzeybek portrayed him quite well; one felt like taking a shower after seeing this Basilio in action.
The other house intriguers, Don Bartolo and Marcellina, were performed by singers who once sang leading roles in opera. British bass‑baritone Willard White, now in his late seventies, is no longer the vocal powerhouse he used to be. White’s Bartolo was too dignified to play the vindictive slimy doctor, who was once Rosina’s guardian and the Count’s rival. His bass‑baritone has changed to more of a baritone, which is not right for the role. His delicious Act I aria “La vendetta, oh la vendetta” was disappointing, as he lacked the necessary low notes. Though his Italian was more than adequate elsewhere, he wasn’t fast enough enunciating the passage “Se tutto il codice dovessi volgere, se tutto l’indice dovesse leggere,” essential in conveying the character’s cruel spitefulness.
German soprano Dorothea Röschmann, once a brilliant Countess herself, was a deluxe Marcellina. Vocally, she has too good a voice for this secondary role. She portrayed the old matron as a sex‑crazed retired madam. She surprised with her comic verve and was possibly the funniest character in the opera.
Norwegian soprano Eirin Rognenud was a revelation in the secondary role of Barbarina. Titov had her double as lawyer Don Curzio’s androgynous and bespectacled assistant (not in the play or the opera) who fainted upon learning that Figaro was the long lost illegitimate son of Bartolo and Marcellina. Though a minor character, she made quite an impression in that comic stunt. Rognenud also has a delightful voice, officially a lyric soprano, but her rich timbre hints at a mixed voice, soprano sfogato, capable of singing mezzo as well as soprano. Time will tell what path this young singer will choose.
Rognenud would have made a delightful Cherubino in lieu of Canadian mezzo Emily D’Angelo, who did her usual crossdressing speciality. Heard last season as Dorabella in Così fan tutte in Vienna and as Sesto in Giulio Cesare in Paris, D’Angelo’s light mezzo is changing. At moments, the adolescent Cherubino sounded like a mature matron. Nonetheless, her rendition of the Act I aria “Non so più” and the Act II aria “Voi che sapete” was quite good. D’Angelo remains an excellent actress who was convincing as a teenager perturbed by hormonal changes. Of course, by placing the action in the present time, one wonders why the young boy is not using a dating app rather than lusting for women in his own home.
Despite being a last minute replacement in the role of Count Almaviva, German baritone Björn Bürger brilliantly sang and acted (according to Titov’s vision, that is) the role of the sex‑crazed nobleman-turned-drug-lord. My only reservation is that his voice was too similar to Philippe Sly’s Figaro. One would have liked a darker baritone to contrast with Figaro, and to convey more authority. His Italian was more than adequate, but not as good as Figaro and Susanna, the only voices sounding like native speakers.
Bürger’s Act III aria, “Hai già vinto la causa” was not the brilliant showcase it could have been due to his linguistic limitations. The strophe “Vedrò mentr’io sospiro” lacked the proper emphasis to sound truly menacing. He fared better in his duet with Susanna, “Crudel! perché finora,” where his amorous lamentations were convincing.
It is admirable that he was able to go through with the role as conceived by the director on short notice. Titov’s Count is likely mentally ill and obsessed with sex in his every action. He is too self‑indulgent in his drug habits, making him irritable and crazed. Da Ponte must be spinning in his grave.
Swedish lyric soprano Maria Bengtsson was especially admired for her Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier in Geneva, one of the most glorious interpretations of the role ever. In that role and in another recently heard Strauss role, Christine in Intermezzo, in Berlin, she was truly phenomenal thanks to her silvery high soprano, perfect German and capacity to move. However, the Countess is somewhat different, requiring more support in the middle register, which Bengtsson may or may not have. Her Act II aria, “Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro” was disappointing, in large part due to Finnish conductor Susanna Mälkki’s lack of support. Alas, in much of the performance, Mälkki conducted as if she had a train to catch. This is a real pity because Bengtsson, based on what I have heard her sing, should have been able to nail this beautiful aria.
Fortunately, her Act III aria “Dove sono i bei momenti” fared better, and Mälkki was respectful of the tempi. Given that her spouse is a drug dealer, this long‑suffering neglected Countess couldn’t act like a proud noblewoman with a naturally aristocratic posture and deportment. She nonetheless managed to convey the ennui and sadness the role requires. Her chambers in both Acts II and III were so drab that it would have provoked laughter had she assumed haughty airs. The pink detachable polyester sofa was sufficient to drive anyone into depression. What may work for Madonna does not for Mozart.
By far the most outstanding actors and singers were the hired help, Figaro and Susanna, a blessing, as they sing a good deal. Canadian baritone Philippe Sly is endowed with a beautifully virile timbre, outstanding diction and formidable acting skills. With minor gestures and inflections, he conveyed his modest rank as well as his pride and intelligence. His interpretation of Act I’s “Non più andrai,” mixing the admonishing of the young Cherubino on his way to military service with a defiance of his own master, Count Almaviva, was memorable. His Act IV aria, “Tutto è disposto... Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi,” was a standout in a performance of many brilliant moments. His chemistry with Julie Fuchs was palpable, which rendered the couple quite adorable.
French light lyric soprano Julie Fuchs was the absolute star of the show, thanks to her beautiful voice, excellent phrasing, exceptional charisma and commendable acting. Her soubrette voice blended well with Bengtsson’s more noble lyric soprano in the Act III duet “Canzonetta sull’aria.” Unlike many light lyric sopranos, Fuchs’s voice doesn’t lack warmth or brilliance. She managed to convey this chambermaid’s many moods: joyous in the light‑hearted Act II aria, “Venite inginocchiatevi,” where she dresses Cherubino in the Countess’ clothes, and sensual in her Act IV aria “Giunse alfin il momento... Deh vieni, non tardar”.
Act IV is the hardest to pull off, as the two secret trysts (the Count with the Countess disguised as Susanna; and Figaro with Susanna disguised as the Countess) can be confusing. Most difficult is to create the space and lighting to imply the two amorous rendez‑vous are secretive, visible to the audience, and most of all credible. In most stagings, the subterfuges are too obvious for the public. This was the case here, where instead of the palace’s garden, the opera’s last act was set in the indoor grow‑op, with bright lights above the plants, an impossible setting for any subterfuge, no matter the degree of travestimento. Moreover, Susanna and the Countess both wore equally elegant dresses that neither wore previously, making this the least convincing subterfuge ever seen.
When the Count discovers his mistake, that his presumed cheating wife was none other than Susanna, and that the presumed Susanna he was making love to was his own wife, he repents and the opera ends in reconciliation. But as this is Titov’s Le nozze di Figaro, the opera ends instead with the Count on the love chair, with the Countess lowering the handle so that one of the many pleasuring devices is raised into her sexually submissive husband. Sadly, this was akin to a parody of Mozart’s opera, as seen in a seedy nightclub.
Ossama el Naggar
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