“Marriage of Figaro” is, for me, a daunting task to enjoy. There are moments of sublime beauty, but those are just moments. For me, the opera is an orgy of plot without a moment of simple love-making. Keeping track of all the strands of story is exhausting. Times have changed. No one reads. We have shifted, in the age of Instagram, to process the world visually. In “Figaro,” one needs to go left brain to appreciate an art form which often rewards the right. Fortunately, the music is by Mozart, enough said.
The libretto, by Lorenzo Da Ponte, is based on the French play, “The Crazy Day, or The Marriage of Figaro,” by Pierre Beaumarchais. Its portrayal of a completely unlikeable aristocrat was controversial, to say the least. Napoleon Bonaparte was said to remark that the play was the first shot fired in the French Revolution, which began fifteen years later. Today the politics seem as tepid as the story is tedious.
However, the opening image in the Santa Fe production does offer simplicity and hope— a human glockenspiel, a brilliant way of introducing the characters visually—as each player takes a turn standing on a moving turntable. Posed like figures in a wax museum, they slowly spin by as the melodious Mozart overture proceeds. If only they wore placards or had captions, ie, “This is Count Almaviva. He is a cad.” But then we are off to the races— buoyed on by Mr. Mozart—as we begin our work– to keep track of who is who, who loves whom, who is related to whom, and who is not who you really think they are.
Speaking of Count Almaviva, he is the most politically relevant character in the opera— a Trump-like creature who believes he can sleep with whomever he wants. His wife, the Countess, gets to watch him chase Susana, her maid. Shades of Melania and Stormy Daniels? Susana is engaged to Figaro, who also works for the Count. Cherubino, a man played by a woman, works for the Count but is in love with the Countess. Barbarina is Susana’s niece, and loves Cherubino. My favorite is Marcellina, to whom Figaro owes money. She holds a contract that says if she is not paid back, Figaro must marry her. She turns out to be his mother.
This is a repeat production, introduced to Santa Fe audiences in 2021, when the director, Laurent Pelly, was prevented from traveling to New Mexico because of the pandemic, and directed, instead, by Zoom. The 2025 production features Pelly in person, a different cast, and a chance to reappraise the French director’s take on this Mozart classic. This no doubt made a difference to Pelly, but did anyone notice a difference? Was there a difference?
Pelly, who also designed the costumes for the production, clothes most of the characters in uniforms which look like uniforms—working class drabness, and a black and white maid’s costume for Susana. The Countess however, is allowed to stand out, just as her character generally stands outside the comical hijinks of the plot. Her dignity and class are expressed musically, but are also well-embodied in gowns which look worthy of a movie premiere red carpet, had that been invented. At the end of the opera, the Countess and Susana swap dresses, just in time for a wedding. Like the use of the glockenspiel, Pelly understands visual communication and creates lovely moments in a non-musical, non-narrative way.
The Countess, played by Marina Monzó, and her servant Susana, sung by Liv Redpath, both sopranos, are the lucky recipients of some of the most beautiful melodies of the opera, and they were both brilliant. A Mozartian soprano generally offers a light and crystal clear sound, perfect on a summer night. I could listen to the loveliness and utter lack of excess coming from Redpath and Monzó any day. Monzó’s rendition of “Porgi Amor” (see video of Angela Georghiu performing this aria) and “”Dove sono” (Act III) were perfection, and the “The Letter Song” (“Sull’aria”), a duet for the two singers, was sublime.
I’m not sure what Mozart had against tenors, but his male roles in the opera (with the exception of the music teacher Don Basilio, a minor part) are all baritones and basses. Figaro, played by Riccardo Fassi, was an effective comic actor, but vocally, his bass lines tended to land in a muddy register. One longed for a lyric tenor aria, a few high c’s thrown in to clear the air during all the court hijinks. Count Almaviva, the bad guy, naturally goes to a lower voice, in this case baritone, but his rendition of “Hai Giá Vinta La Casa” in Act 3 was more about plot exposition, less an opportunity for mid-range beauty.
Cherubino, the pants role occupied by Hongni Wu, a Chinese Mezzo, was played with impish energy and vocal command, although the character themself, seemed superfluous. Same with the singer assigned to chase and love Cherubino, Barbarina. Isobel Anthony, a rising former Apprentice at Santa Fe, sang and acted the part with earnestness and clarity.
Lucy Schaufer as Marcellina, the “older woman” chasing Figaro, was a stand-out comic actor who made the most of every moment. Her sidekick, Doctor Bartolo, Maurizio Muraro, had a certain gravitas mixed with his comedy—not an easy thing to pull off. He was, again, a smoky bass. All the darkness in the tones from the men allowed the clean, pure soprano voices of Redpath and Monzón to sparkle in contrast, perhaps Mozart’s intent.
Conducted by Harry Bicket, the Music Director of Santa Fe Opera, the orchestra sounded sprightly and nimble, although the balance was off at the very beginning, when Susana couldn’t be heard over the musicians. Bicket quickly adjusted this, because there were no issues for the rest of the opera.
The Marriage of Figaro continues On July 9, 31, August 4, 9, 12, 16 and 22.
