Unalloyed, escapist entertainment: The Barber of Seville opens Glyndebourne’s season

If a revival of a opera buffa is a guilty pleasure, then last night at Glyndebourne just earned me a lot of days in purgatory. Rarely have I enjoyed an evening of opera that was such unalloyed, joyful, escapist entertainment – with musical standards leaving nothing to be desired.

More than two centuries after its composition, Il barbiere di Siviglia still gets performed over a hundred times a year, nearly as many as its related Le nozze di Figaro and more than any other opera buffa – and for good reason. Yes, Rossini’s melodic gift and his highly decorated bel canto style are at their most brilliant. Yes, it’s populated by the stock characters and themes that we know and love from commedia dell’arte. But what makes this opera so special is the comic timing. From the off, it’s packed with gags where, in the right hands, Rossini’s music combines with Cesare Sterbini’s libretto to hilarious effect, not least the ones where they are poking fun at their own work. 

It’s hard to imagine better “right hands” than those on show last night. Rory Macdonald and the London Philharmonic Orchestra gave a perfectly weighted rendition of that famous overture, light, airy and full of high spirits and contrasts. Next, Joanna Parker’s set and costume designs, which don’t locate us in any particular time or country but are replete with cues from Arabian Nights-style storybooks. Next, director Annabel Arden’s expert acting direction of the scraggly band of musicians whom Fiorello has assembled to support the lovesick Count Almaviva’s serenading of Rosina. Jonah Hoskins sang the Count with deliciously pure timbre and effortless phrasing of Rossinian lyric lines, his stage personality winsome and boyish.

And then, Germán Olvera’s Figaro bounding onto the stage to take charge of proceedings with an rip-roaring “Largo al factotum”. Olvera is a Mexican version of Tigger, with irrepressible energy and charisma by the bucketload; his voice had all the agility required for the high-speed buffo patter, but could call upon baritonal heft and smooth out a lyrical line when the occasion demanded. Olvera also proved to be an accomplished guitarist, providing thrilling flamenco rasgueados as he accompanied his master’s canzone outside Rosina’s window.

The cast contained no weak links. Cecilia Molinari has a rather darker mezzo voice than often heard as Rosina, with less top end glitter but plenty of richness in the chest voice and effortless coloratura to rival anyone. Fabio Capitanucci wrapped his mouth around Doctor Bartolo’s tongue-twisters at dizzying speed. Alessio Cacciamani delivered the scheming Don Basilio’s “La calunnia” with relish and a strong bass voice. And in Ailish Tynan’s hands, even Berta’s aria di sorbetto, “Il vecchiotto cerca moglie”, turned into a showstopper.

The challenge for anyone directing a farce that is aired as often as Barbiere is how to stop it dragging – you’re required to come up with a stream of ideas to make the audience feel like they’re rediscovering the work for the first time. With the help of Macdonald’s beautiful weighting of the music, and a young cast completely committed to their roles and interplay, Arden delivered this on virtually every scene. The close of Act 1 was a defining example: Rossini and Sterbini have wrapped up their characters in so many knots that all they’re left with is a chorus of random mayhem in which everyone tells the audience how all this is doing their head in – so Arden just produces equivalent stage movement to match it (spoiler: harpsichords are harmed). It’s masterly.

In 1775, Beaumarchais created Figaro, the Almavivas, Bartolo and the rest in his play Le Barbier de Séville at the court of the newly crowned Louis XVI. 250 years later, his characters have lost none of their power to seduce. Here’s to the next 250.