Tuesday evening at the Royal Opera House and there wasn’t a seat left in the house for the opening night of the revival of Rossini’s buffa opera Il Barbiere di Siviglia. From the moment the orchestra, led by the Scottish conductor Rory Macdonald, began their overture and built the atmosphere the audience was transfixed – a marked difference from the opera’s premiere in 1816 when the audience are reported to have jeered and hissed throughout. Still, despite this the opera has flourished to become a staple part of the comic opera repertoire.
On what was my first trip to the Royal Opera House I was enraptured by the beauty and design. The circular main hall rising upwards in a lavish display of design gives it the feeling of a temple to the arts. By the time my eye reached the ornate ceiling I had vowed to myself this would not be my last trip. If there is a more beautiful place to watch opera in the UK then I am yet to see it.
It is the atmosphere, the knowledge that each night will be slightly different and the interaction between crowd and performers which sets a live performance ahead of any recording. All these were present to such an extent that at the first note of Count Almaviva’s serenade such was the electricity present in the room that the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
The story – a blissfully farcical tale of disguises, plots and counter-plots as Count Almaviva, with the help of the eponymous barber, Figaro, attempts to save his love Rosina from the grasp of her lecherous guardian, Dr Don Bartolo, and the superbly Machiavellian music teacher, Don Basilio – pops and fizzes as the performers are encouraged to flex their acting muscles as well as their vocals to inject real humour into the opera through impeccable comic timing and authentic physical comedy.
In a performance low on star names the execution is undiminished, in addition to the extraordinary performance by Ildar Abdrazakov as Don Basilio – all malevolence, hunch and duplicity. As he navigates his way through the role with great humour, Levente Molnár, a young Hungarian baritone, delivers a commanding performance full of fire and vigour as Figaro, the eponymous barber.
All were, however, overshadowed by the rising star Aleksandra Kurzak as Rosina. Her perfect portrayal captured the duality of the character’s fiery determination and her vulnerability through sublime vocal skills and coquettish foot-stamping anger. Indeed, so convincing is this anger that when, after throwing darts into the set, she turns to the audience and feints throwing one into the audience, the first four rows all instinctively ducked out of the way. The audience hung on her every note and her every action it is a remarkable performance.
Overall I took many things from this performance – a newfound love of the venue, the excitement of seeing talented young performers at the beginning of their careers, and lastly and most importantly, a profound sense of pleasure, and that, after all, is what art of all kinds should deliver.
