Pierre Beaumarchais’ theatrical Figaro triology provides the basis for two of the most beloved operas in modern operatic repertoire: Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia and Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro, as well as a host of other less successful works. Theater an der Wien, after presenting Giovanni Paisiello’s lesser known setting of Le barbier de Séville in February and Mozart’s classic Figaro in April is presenting the final chapter, La mère coupable (The Guilty Mother) Beaumarchais’ final play, which was set by Darious Milhaud in 1966. Although an interesting and worthy experiment, the result in this case is by and large frustrating for a number of reasons.
Beaumarchais’ drame morale traces the escapades of Suzanna, Figaro, Count Almaviva and the Countess some twenty years post-Figaro and is downright tragic compared to both its predecessors. In brief, over the years Rosina and the Count have both had indiscretions resulting in illegitimate offspring. The Count has taken in young Florestine as his ward, but she is in actuality his daughter, and the pair are also raising Léon, the product of Rosina’s affair with Cherubino, who died long ago in battle. Almaviva has long suspected that Léon is not his own son and their relationship is uneasy. Moreover, the Count and Countess’ only legitimate offspring died in a duel. These disappointments and betrayals haunt their relationship. Figaro and Suzanne have stayed together and are still in their service, but their marriage is likewise strained. Throw into the mix an intriguing Irish gold-digger named Bégearss who has ingrained himself, Tartuffe-like, into the family and the fact that Léon and Florestine are in love with each other and you can imagine the kinds of knots which need to be untangled.
This complicated plot, set by Milhaud in the original French was not clarified by director Herbert Föttinger. Instead, an additional layer to the confusion was added by doubles who portray scenes from the protagonists’ pasts and their inner motivations. I have no objection per se with naked women bathing in blood, masturbating to crucifixes or being flagellated by priests in confessional booths, but only if it somehow aids our understanding of the story. Unfortunately, despite a very promising opening set of scenes in the overture, Föttinger ran out of good ideas long before the close. The only additions double-wise in the entire third act include a repeat of the naked countess bathing in blood, figures in suits walking aimlessly through leaves and a naked countess struggling, bound to a headboard. More disturbingly the guilt in this production is completely one-sided giving the entire Regie a blatantly unmodern and sexist bent. Beaumarchais, writing in the 18th century, shares his guilt between the sexes. Almaviva declares himself to be “more guilty than any of you”, yet in this production he remains completely clad as does every other male figure while the women (generally nude) are debased by the males in every second tableau.