NBR New Zealand Opera's The Marriage of Figaro is as engrossing a night of theatre as one could wish for, thanks to the astute directorial hand of Aidan Lang.
The company's last Figaro, eight years ago, was a frenetic fashionista farce; this time round, it is more keenly honed to Mozart and Lorenzo da Ponte's original conception.
Robin Rawstorne's daunting grid wall looms over us as Lionel Friend whirls the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra through a sparkling overture, hinting that we are in for an evening of comedy with serious intent.
Ingeniously, once the grid opens, many of the opera's intrigues are presented in various sections of the stage, giving it a split-screen, cinematic flow, perfect for catching the enveloping chaos of this day of madness.
Figaro and Susanna make their marriage plans in a small box-like apartment; Bartolo's La Vendetta is mischievously set in a kitchen, with food being chopped and cleavered behind him.
The full set is revealed, in all its magnificence, for the Countess' boudoir and, by the last act, with admittedly some stretch of the imagination, it becomes a garden of revelations and reconciliation.
Lang has instigated a real sense of ensemble in this production, setting up classic buffa subterfuges with inventive stage business, taking delight in underscoring the darker moments and yet respecting such lyrical outpourings as Susanna's Deh vieni, rapturously sung by Emma Pearson.
During the opening night a steady flow of audience laughter, occasionally drowning out Mozart's music in a marvellous Act III sextet, is proof that this is an opera for all times.
This production scores with a fairly consistent cast. True, Wade Kernot's amiable Figaro has a little too much of the nice guy in him, although his Aprite un po' quegl'occhi is made of tougher fibre. Opposite him, Pearson's Susanna works her wiles with a clever combination of spry stagecraft and Mozartian grace.
If Nuccia Focile's Countess does not quite deliver the creamy lustre of Porgi Amor (her later Dove sono is more settled) she brings out the character's mix of vulnerability and resourcefulness, especially alongside Riccardo Novaro's Count, whose Vedro, mentre io sospiro is a shiver-inducing piece of malevolence.
Full marks to Wendy Dawn Thompson whose Non so piu catches the breathless teenage testosterone of Cherubino with unfailingly elegant phrasing.
Amongst an excellent supporting cast, Helen Medlyn's Marcellina never misses an opportunity to reconcile the shtick of a seasoned cabaret performer with the immaculate musicianship of one of our finest mezzos.
The Marriage of Figaro has its second performance tonight, followed by a short season next week. It is not to be missed.
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