A scene from The Barber of Seville.
Rossini’s romantic romp rides again at L.A. Opera.
By Ed Rampell
Italian composer Gioachino Rossini’s rollicking romantic romp,The Barber of Seville, rides again at L.A. Opera, and it’s ideal for the holiday season. With a libretto by Cesare Sterbini, Rossini concocted this frothy, farcical confection in 1816, although it was originally created by French playwright Pierre Augustin Beaumarchais around the time of the revolutions in America and France. As Lone Ranger fans know, Rossini also composed the rousing "William Tell Overture," which celebrated Swiss resistance to the tyrannical Hapsburg dynasty.
The Barber of Seville is primarily a lighthearted love story, with Emilio Sagi (original production) and director Javier Ulacia (who both, like the opera’s characters, hail from Spain) injecting vaudevillian verve into their rendition. Indeed, at times it verges on being opera buffo. Onstage slander is cleverly visualized as a billowing parachute-like sheet that keeps expanding and spreading. What appears to be portraits of Rossini are plastered all over Warholian wallpaper in one interior scene. Choreographer Nuria Castejon manages to sneak some of that old soft shoe on stage. And so on.
In Joyce DiDonato’s L.A. Opera debut, the mezzo-soprano’s Rosina is appropriately impishly feminine – and well-proportioned. This is also the case for baritone Nathan Gunn, who portrays Figaro, the titular hair stylist, as well as for Peruvian Juan Diego Florez, the bel canto tenor depicting Rosina’s love interest, Count Almaviva. The beauty and physical vigor of these three leads matches that of their youthful, attractive characters, which is not always the case in opera where nubile, virile dramatis personae are sometimes played by aging, corpulent performers chosen more for their voice than for their physical appearance.
On the other hand, Italian bass-baritone Bruno Pratico as buffoonish Doctor Bartolo has an Oliver Hardy-like presence and panache. He steals so many scenes after comic scenes that Pratico is more of a kleptomaniac than Tippi Hedren in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1964 Marnie, and he sings and speaks faster than Jon Lovett’s Saturday Night Live “yeah, that’s the ticket” pathological liar. Simply put, Pratico hilariously chews up the scenery (although in his L.A. Opera debut Spaniard Llorenc Corbella’s relatively skimpy sets are quite severe, when compared with the company’s more elaborately designed prior productions, such as Tosca’s prison, Carmen’s plaza and The Fly’s mad scientist’s lair).
Bartolo’s crime is desiring to marry his young ward Rosina, despite the fact that he’s – shudders – rotund and middle-aged. Far worse, Bartolo is also Rosina’s guardian, and he not only zealously and jealously seeks to cloister her and keep the beautiful young woman away from other suitors, spying on her with an Ahabian Orwellian obsession, but also tries to coerce his ward into marrying him, with the help of his partner in slime, church organist Don Basilio (bass-baritone Philip Cokorinos). Here, aided by his friend the barber, the dashing Count strives to win the senorita’s hand and heart. But, in a nod to the egalitarianism sweeping the West during the Age of Revolution, Almaviva wants Rosina to love him for himself, not his title and fortune, so the Count pretends to be a no account, just a regular Joe.
Of course, it is Figaro who is the real common man, and the skilled worker pulls the strings in this love triangle. The barber is so proud of himself and his talents that he sings that famed aria Largo al factotum -- “Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!” -- wherein the self-styled Seville stylist ballyhoos his confident self to the world. (He is also the eponymous lead character in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s 1786 opera The Marriage of Figaro, based on Beaumarchais’ 1784 play.) I couldn’t help but wonder if Figaro and The Barber of Seville influenced screenwriter Robert Towne and Warren Beatty when they made their 1975 Beverly Hills-set comedy of manners, Shampoo.
Another nod to the common man – and woman – is the democratization of love, as middle-aged, unattractive servants join the merriment and elope, proving that love is for and conquers all. As the servant girl sings: “What is this thing called love that drives everybody mad?”
Indeed. The grand finale is an ode to joy, love and faith that bursts upon the stage, brought alive by costume designer Renata Schussheim’s amusingly outlandish apparel; lighting designer Eduardo Bravo’s impressionistic hues; Castejon’s buoyant choreography; Sagi and Corbella’s set with its aerial whimsy; and above all, Rossini’s exuberant music, rendered under the able baton of conductor Michele Mariotti. It’s like the Studio 54 of yore run amok; one half expects Jimmy Durante to appear, proclaiming: “Everybody wants to get into the act!”
L.A. Opera’s three hours of delightful, sheer frivolity a.k.a. The Barber of Seville is sure to cause seasonal cheer in an otherwise often gloomy world and to make you want to fly away. And Rossini’s immortal overture is to live for. To life and love! Hiyo Silver, and away!
The Barber of Seville performs at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., on Saturday, Dec. 5 and Wednesdays, Dec. 9 and 16, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, Dec. 6 and 13, 2 p.m.; Saturday, Dec. 12, noon; Saturday Dec. 19 1 p.m. and 8 p.m. For more info: 213/972-8001; www.laopera.com.
Italian composer Gioachino Rossini’s rollicking romantic romp,The Barber of Seville, rides again at L.A. Opera, and it’s ideal for the holiday season. With a libretto by Cesare Sterbini, Rossini concocted this frothy, farcical confection in 1816, although it was originally created by French playwright Pierre Augustin Beaumarchais around the time of the revolutions in America and France. As Lone Ranger fans know, Rossini also composed the rousing "William Tell Overture," which celebrated Swiss resistance to the tyrannical Hapsburg dynasty.
The Barber of Seville is primarily a lighthearted love story, with Emilio Sagi (original production) and director Javier Ulacia (who both, like the opera’s characters, hail from Spain) injecting vaudevillian verve into their rendition. Indeed, at times it verges on being opera buffo. Onstage slander is cleverly visualized as a billowing parachute-like sheet that keeps expanding and spreading. What appears to be portraits of Rossini are plastered all over Warholian wallpaper in one interior scene. Choreographer Nuria Castejon manages to sneak some of that old soft shoe on stage. And so on.
In Joyce DiDonato’s L.A. Opera debut, the mezzo-soprano’s Rosina is appropriately impishly feminine – and well-proportioned. This is also the case for baritone Nathan Gunn, who portrays Figaro, the titular hair stylist, as well as for Peruvian Juan Diego Florez, the bel canto tenor depicting Rosina’s love interest, Count Almaviva. The beauty and physical vigor of these three leads matches that of their youthful, attractive characters, which is not always the case in opera where nubile, virile dramatis personae are sometimes played by aging, corpulent performers chosen more for their voice than for their physical appearance.
On the other hand, Italian bass-baritone Bruno Pratico as buffoonish Doctor Bartolo has an Oliver Hardy-like presence and panache. He steals so many scenes after comic scenes that Pratico is more of a kleptomaniac than Tippi Hedren in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1964 Marnie, and he sings and speaks faster than Jon Lovett’s Saturday Night Live “yeah, that’s the ticket” pathological liar. Simply put, Pratico hilariously chews up the scenery (although in his L.A. Opera debut Spaniard Llorenc Corbella’s relatively skimpy sets are quite severe, when compared with the company’s more elaborately designed prior productions, such as Tosca’s prison, Carmen’s plaza and The Fly’s mad scientist’s lair).
Bartolo’s crime is desiring to marry his young ward Rosina, despite the fact that he’s – shudders – rotund and middle-aged. Far worse, Bartolo is also Rosina’s guardian, and he not only zealously and jealously seeks to cloister her and keep the beautiful young woman away from other suitors, spying on her with an Ahabian Orwellian obsession, but also tries to coerce his ward into marrying him, with the help of his partner in slime, church organist Don Basilio (bass-baritone Philip Cokorinos). Here, aided by his friend the barber, the dashing Count strives to win the senorita’s hand and heart. But, in a nod to the egalitarianism sweeping the West during the Age of Revolution, Almaviva wants Rosina to love him for himself, not his title and fortune, so the Count pretends to be a no account, just a regular Joe.
Of course, it is Figaro who is the real common man, and the skilled worker pulls the strings in this love triangle. The barber is so proud of himself and his talents that he sings that famed aria Largo al factotum -- “Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!” -- wherein the self-styled Seville stylist ballyhoos his confident self to the world. (He is also the eponymous lead character in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s 1786 opera The Marriage of Figaro, based on Beaumarchais’ 1784 play.) I couldn’t help but wonder if Figaro and The Barber of Seville influenced screenwriter Robert Towne and Warren Beatty when they made their 1975 Beverly Hills-set comedy of manners, Shampoo.
Another nod to the common man – and woman – is the democratization of love, as middle-aged, unattractive servants join the merriment and elope, proving that love is for and conquers all. As the servant girl sings: “What is this thing called love that drives everybody mad?”
Indeed. The grand finale is an ode to joy, love and faith that bursts upon the stage, brought alive by costume designer Renata Schussheim’s amusingly outlandish apparel; lighting designer Eduardo Bravo’s impressionistic hues; Castejon’s buoyant choreography; Sagi and Corbella’s set with its aerial whimsy; and above all, Rossini’s exuberant music, rendered under the able baton of conductor Michele Mariotti. It’s like the Studio 54 of yore run amok; one half expects Jimmy Durante to appear, proclaiming: “Everybody wants to get into the act!”
L.A. Opera’s three hours of delightful, sheer frivolity a.k.a. The Barber of Seville is sure to cause seasonal cheer in an otherwise often gloomy world and to make you want to fly away. And Rossini’s immortal overture is to live for. To life and love! Hiyo Silver, and away!
The Barber of Seville performs at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., on Saturday, Dec. 5 and Wednesdays, Dec. 9 and 16, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, Dec. 6 and 13, 2 p.m.; Saturday, Dec. 12, noon; Saturday Dec. 19 1 p.m. and 8 p.m. For more info: 213/972-8001; www.laopera.com.
