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Le nozze di Figaro, ossia la giornata divertente! Düsseldorf
Deutsche Oper am Rhein
05/24/2026 - & January 25, 31, February 8 (Duisburg), March 1, 21, April 15, 2026, May 7, 15, 24*, 29, June 18, 2027 (Düsseldorf)
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro, K. 492
Jorge Espino (Il conte di Almaviva), Sylvia Hamvasi (La contessa di Almaviva), Anna Sophia Theil (Susanna), Bogdan Talos (Figaro), Maria Polanska (Cherubino), Katarzyna Kuncio (Marcellina), Sami Luttinen (Bartolo), Florian Simson (Basilio), Sander de Jong (Curzio), Elisabeth Freyhoff (Barbarina), Rolf A. Scheider (Antonio)
Chor der Deutschen Oper am Rhein, Albert Horne (chorus master), Andrea d’Alonso (fortepiano), Düsseldorfer Philharmoniker, Vitali Alekseenok (conductor)
Michael Hampe (director), Germán Droghetti (sets, costumes), Manfred Voss (lighting), Michal Matys (choreography), Hella Bartnig (dramaturgy)
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 successful staging of the work will make 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.
Usually, I avoid productions of the Mozart/Da Ponte operas North of the Alps (and in North America as well) where humour is rarely compatible with Da Ponte’s subtle libretto. However, there have been exceptions, such as David Hermann’s production of Don Giovanni for Munich last summer. However, I had heard several positive reviews of Michael Hampe’s production of Le nozze di Figaro, and happily, they were on the money.
The first striking feature one noticed in this production were the sparse sets that contrast with many directors’ flawed conception of eighteenth century aristocratic homes. Without the usual clutter on stage, one could concentrate on the action.
The opera opens with Figaro carrying the bed into the room that will be his, once he and his bride are joined in matrimony. Cherubino’s spying on Susanna and the Count was masterfully staged. Throughout the performance, Hampe avoided unnecessary antics and any hint of forced humour. The action flowed naturally, and the subtle humour was elegantly restrained, evoking the late great French director, Jean‑Pierre Ponnelle.
Thanks to the proper positioning of doors and a window in the Countess’s bedroom, Act II’s intrigue felt credible. Thanks to Alekseenok’s exquisite pacing of the orchestra, the finale of Act II was the opera’s musical pinnacle.
The Count’s court hearing of Marcelina’s case against Figaro was staged in such a formal setting that the comic dénouement felt utterly hilarious. The fandango at the end of Act III was elegantly choreographed, with hints of commedia dell’arte alluding to the ensuing intrigue.
The best was saved for last: Act IV, the hardest to stage, given the two secret trysts in the palace gardens with Susanna dressed as the Countess and vice versa. Rarely can a director pull this one off; either the public is confused or the subterfuges are anything but convincing. Thanks to Germán Droghetti’s imaginative and fetching sets, one was transported to a beautiful garden with hedges, labyrinths and walls evocatively covered with climbing plants. The magical atmosphere, especially with Manfred Voss’s masterful use of lighting, evoked both romance and mischief. Given Hamvasi and Theil’s comparable height and body types, the disguises are a success. A spectator not familiar with the story would think Susanna was the Countess and vice versa. The lush gardens had hedges made into niches, and the entry of a labyrinth could easily be seen. How could the subterfuge not succeed?
The casting of Figaro and Count Almaviva is quite similar to the casting of Don Giovanni and Leporello, as the roles were written for similar voice types, though each role can vary from baritone, bass‑baritone to even basso cantante. A deeper voice can impart authority, hence one would think the Count ought to have the lower voice. A lower voice is also more suited for comedy. Here, the Romanian bass Bogdan Talos, who sang King Solomon in Gounod’s La Reine de Saba the previous evening, was Figaro. Talos must be a paragon of stamina to manage two major roles on consecutive evenings.
In past seasons, I admired this versatile singer in such dramatic basso roles as King Philip II in Don Carlo, and as Daland in Der fliegende Holländer, both in Düsseldorf. I was astounded to discover his comedic verve, a nuanced type of comedy that is most appropriate for Da Ponte’s subtle humour. His Figaro was not an exuberant one; some would describe him as poised. Yet his interpretation of Act I’s “Non più andrai,” admonishing young Cherubino on his way to military service, was brilliant. Act III’s scene with Marcellina and Bartolo was hilarious, mostly thanks to Figaro’s attempts at seriousness (contrary to most Figaros). His Act IV aria, “Tutto è disposto... Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi” was simply mesmerizing, sounding spontaneous, as if he’d just learned of men’s weaker position in the battle of the sexes.
Mexican baritone Jorge Espino was a suave Count Almaviva. Naturally elegant, Espino portrayed a charmer, a roué, as confirmed by his past seduction (in Beaumarchais’s prequel Le Barbier de Séville) of young Rosina, now Countess Almaviva. Despite his rank, Espino’s Count did not radiate authority. Given Talos’s overpowering lower bass and overwhelming stage presence, one understood the casting of Espino. Despite huge efforts to keep up appearances of his authority, this Count felt threatened, hence his frequent outbursts of jealousy and rage. Thanks to excellent diction and expressivity, Espino’s Act III aria, “Hai già vinto la causa” was a brilliant showcase. The strophe “Vedrò mentr’io sospiro” had the proper emphasis that made it truly menacing. As charm is this Count’s forte, he excelled in his duet with Susanna, “Crudel! perché finora,” where his amorous lamentations were utterly convincing.
German-Greek soprano Anna Sophia Theil was an outstanding Susanna. Thanks to her beautiful voice, excellent phrasing, exceptional charisma and commendable acting, she was the star of the show. Unlike many light lyric sopranos who sing soubrette roles, Theil’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”.
Hungarian lyric soprano Sylvia Hamvasi is endowed with a beautiful silvery high soprano, quite distinguishable from Theil’s light soprano. Her Act II aria, “Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro” started with slight intonation problems that were quickly corrected thanks to superb Bielorusian conductor Vitali Alekseenok’s tempo adjustment. After all, this difficult aria is the Countess’s first utterance, and hence no easy feat. Fortunately, her Act III aria “Dove sono i bei momenti” was close to perfect vocally and shattering emotionally. Her noble lyric soprano blended well with Theil’s soprano leggero in the Act III duet “Canzonetta sull’aria.”
Polish mezzo Maria Polanska was a spirited Cherubino, utterly convincing in her portrayal of the hormone-driven adolescent page. Her light mezzo was perfect for this travesti role, evocative of youth and vulnerability. Both her Act I “Non so più cosa son, cosa sento” and her Act II “Voi che sapete che cosa è l’amor” were a true joy, replete with adolescent petulance.
Finnish bass Sami Luttinen was a great choice for the role of Bartolo, often wrongly relegated to a baritone. He amused in his one aria “La vendetta”, sung with the required low notes but also with brio. Like most non‑native speakers, he was only moderately fast in the frenetic final part, “Se tutto il codice dovessi volgere, se tutto l’indice dovesse leggere...” Nonetheless, his comedic verve carried the role.
Character tenor Florian Simson was the appropriately slimy music teacher Don Basilio. He seemed to revel in the misfortune of others as well as in his role of entremetteur for Count Almaviva. Simson channeled him effectively; one felt like showering after seeing this filthy scoundrel in action.
Polish mezzo Katarzyna Kuncio was a spirited Marcellina. Thanks to her comedic verve, she excelled in her Act I bickering scene with Susanna, “Via resti servita, madama brillante.”
Member of Deutsche Oper am Rhein’s ensemble, German-Georgian lyric soprano Elisabeth Freyhoff, made the most of her secondary role of Barbarina, excelling in her sole aria, “L’ho perduta”, instilling ample charm and panache into her delivery. One can see her graduate to much bigger roles in the near future.
Brilliant singers, imaginative staging and unforced humour resulted in a performance of Le nozze di Figaro deserving of Beaumarchais’s title, La Folle Journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro. Accordingly, Mozart’s opera is sometimes dubbed Le nozze di Figaro, ossia la folla giornata. Michael Hampe’s production was this and so much more, meriting an additional sobriquet: la giornata divertente! (the amusing day).
Ossama el Naggar
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