At 19, Rossini already knew a thing or two about making an audience laugh. L’equivoco stravagante, his first large-scale opera, is a frothy confection of absurd misunderstandings, ingenious disguises and fiendishly rapid patter. Chosen by public vote as Wexford Festival Opera's “opera of fun” for its 75th anniversary, it has quite a promise to fulfil. Tonight's performance delivered in spades.
The work has a special place in Wexford's history, having been staged at the festival in 1968 in a version incorporating substitutions from other Rossini operas, when the original score was believed to be lost. A critical edition has since been published, following extensive research into the surviving sources, bringing the production closer to Rossini's original conception.
While the basic premise of a bluestocking who finds herself pursued by suitors is not a common one in opera, the comic misunderstandings, switching of identities and farcical shenanigans are familiar tropes of this kind. Gaetano Gasbarri’s libretto was so full of risqué innuendo that it proved controversial enough to be banned after only three performances. At tonight’s, it elicited hearty laughs of genuine amusement, a welcome reminder that operatic comedy can still work on its own terms.
Max Hoehn's production, set in the late 18th century, wisely resists the temptation to turn the farce into an exercise in relentless directorial cleverness. Instead, the comedy emerges from the characters and their social pretensions, while the satire of class aspiration, marriage as social advancement and intellectual vanity remains clear. Ernestina is given considerable agency in determining her own destiny, without the production imposing an overtly modern feminist reading on an 18th-century comedy. The public voted for a light, frothy evening, and Hoehn delivers precisely that.
Darko Petrovic’s sets are clever and complement Hoehn’s vision. A giant woman’s head with letters in her hair and books for her eyes represents Ernestina as a lady of letters. The structure opens to reveal her inner sanctum, a classical library full of books. Massimo Carlotto’s 18th-century costumes bring vibrancy and clarity to the historical context. In keeping with her manly intellectual pastimes, Ernestina is begowned, bespectacled and bewigged to start with before adopting male britches and stockings under open gowns. Her irascible father Gamberotto has a large box on his foot to help him with his noble illness of gout while the mincing buffoon of a suitor Buralicchio is resplendent in red.
The quartet of principal singers ranged from very good to excellent. Maria Barakova as Ernestina started off as an intellectually curious student but by Act 2 was more of a dominant figure, offering herself to both suitors and yet happy to scare Buralicchio away. The amber hues of her mezzo voice took a little time to warm up but her coloratura was impressive, dispatching scales and ornamental runs with ease. She also demonstrated considerable power across the lower and upper registers.
There was less convincing chemistry between Barakova and Sebastian Mach's Ermanno, although this mattered less in a comedy. Mach lacked some of the vocal heft demanded by the score, a limitation that sat rather neatly with his character's emasculated predicament. What he lacked in power, however, he made up for in beauty of tone. His Act 2 arias, despite their self-pitying laments, were sung with feeling.
The evening's most immediately engaging performances came from Stefan Astakhov's Gamberotto and Gurgen Baveyan's Buralicchio. Possessing immaculate comic timing, Astakhov played him as a buffoon from the outset rather than allowing the bluster to emerge from his social insecurities. His powerful bass occasionally overwhelmed his fellow singers in moments of agitation. Baveyan was hilarious, his facial expressions occasionally recalling Mr Bean as he lurched from ardent admirer to revolted suitor on discovering that his beloved was supposedly a castrato. Together, the two found an easy comic rapport in their duets and the larger ensembles.
Carlos Natale and Kelli-Ann Masterson made a well-matched pair as the scheming servants Frontino and Rosalia, combining accomplished singing with neatly judged comic business. The male contingent of the Wexford Festival Opera Chorus was equally spirited, first as trembling servants cowed by their master's moods, then as soldiers arresting Ernestina in her assumed male identity. Their energy added further impetus to the farce.
After a few initial fluffs from the horns and violins in the overture, the Wexford Festival Opera Orchestra found its feet and played with infectious energy. Riccardo Bisatti maintained an excellent balance between singers and orchestra, allowing the rapid-fire patter to register clearly against the increasingly animated orchestral writing.
This was an evening of genuine comic pleasure. The production may not make a profound case for L’equivoco stravagante as a neglected masterpiece, but it does something else: it reveals the youthful Rossini already in command of the rhythmic vitality, vocal exuberance and theatrical mischief that would become his calling cards.
Andrew's trip was partially funded by Wexford Festival Opera.
