Rossini’s great – perhaps the greatest – comic opera returns to Opera Australia in a staging which, like many of their recent offerings, is far from new at 25 years old. But it must be said Elijah Moshinsky's The Barber of Seville, revived by Heather Fairbairn, scrubs up well. Given exemplary singing, comic timing and orchestral playing it deserved the enthusiastic response it received from what looked like a full house.
The mise en scène has been updated to the 1920s, noticeable mainly in the costumes including delicious flapper outfits for the girls, and fun Charleston steps for all including Don Basilio (costumes by Dona Granata). The opening scene appears to be a nod to Sydney with a row of diminutive terrace houses interspersed with palm trees (sets by Michael Yeargan). The first appearances of both Dr Bartolo and Rosina are represented by tiny doll-like figures, garnering some laughs but a bit unnerving. A screen decorated with lady’s coiffures drops down for Figaro’s aria, a row of chairs wheeled out for his clients male and female, all with bushy heads of hair miraculously transformed into sleekness.
Thereafter the action plays out in a clever split level set, with Rosina’s bedroom above with a landing and doors leading to Bartolo’s sanctuary. Below is the drawing room with piano (and drinks tray), and on the right Bartolo’s surgery. For some reason this is dominated by a dentist’s chair in which various patients are seated – a man with a bandaged foot, a pregnant lady, a boy with a broken arm... In the final scene, people coming in off the street including a squad of police, fill up the lower level, then the doctor’s consulting room, climaxing with a spilling out the door reminiscent of the Marx Brothers state room scene from (fittingly) A Night at the Opera.
The Opera Australia Orchestra was conducted on this occasion by Australian born but Italy based Daniel Smith; the overture was played at quite a fast tempo but with pinpoint accuracy and especially beguiling stings. I don’t think I have ever heard such rapturous applause for an overture at an opera performance and this momentum was maintained throughout. The Opera Australia Chorus were their usual well-drilled selves, both vocally and in terms of coordinated movement.
Australian baritone Samuel Dale Johnson sang the title role with great brio and dramatic flourishes, vocally and dramatically, deploying resonant bronze tone and a great knack for deft physical comedy. He was well matched with Italian mezzo-soprano Serena Malfi’s charming Rosina, with flexible singing across a good range; her phrasing seemed to come somewhat adrift near the end of “Una voce poco fa” but in general she showed great bel canto style. John Longmuir is a tenor well known in Australia, and seems to have stepped up a gear here, with lovely plangent singing; it was a pity (but not a surprise) that Almaviva’s final aria "Cessa di più resistere" was not included.
All the other roles were well filled. Dr Bartolo was sung by Andrew Moran, with excellent Italian diction and agility in the fastest passages, and a convincing portrayal of the preening scheming older man attempting to intimidate his feisty ward. Bass David Parkin was a wonderfully insinuating Don Basilio, happily encompassing the range of the part and delivering an enjoyable “La calunnia”, not to mention his lively dancing at the end. The silent role of Ambrogio, depicted here as a creepy sort of zombie figure with a permanent fag in his mouth, was taken by baritone Simon Meadows. He showed he could sing well as he was also Fiorello.