When Jean-Christophe Spinosi stepped onto the podium to conduct Le Comte Ory that night, he didn’t wait for his applause to cease, but instantly cued a hearty forte from the Ensemble Matheus, and consequently a few incredulous looks from the audience. And when clumsy, even chaotic ensemble followed in what is not Rossini’s best overture either, these looks slowly turned into a stare, until a cock-a-doodle-doo from the backdrop brought an end to the imperfect playing and kick-started the fast-forward comedy that is Rossini’s penultimate opera, the only buffo piece he set to a libretto in French rhymes and with accompanied recitatives between the elaborate arias.
The original plot is a medieval troubadour piece that directors Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier transferred to a French village towards the end of the Algerian Crisis in 1962, while anticipating the revolutionary year of 1968 – with the focus on sexual liberties, as is obvious from the story, but also by making the title hero wear a red T-shirt with a cannabis leaf in one scene (period costumes by Agostino Cavalca). In the house’s co-production with the Opernhaus Zürich, country wenches are waiting for their men to come home from the war and are only too pleased to have their blues chased away by the debauched Comte Ory. The latter is disguised as a hermit, teaches “Dieu est amour”, and offers his healing services in a trailer that looks like a tasteless no-tell motel inside. But Comtesse Adèle, whose self-imposed chastity vow seems the reason for her melancholy, proves a tough nut to crack: Ory ultimately finds himself locked out of his trailer while things between Adèle and his page Isolier get steamy inside.
Act II, where the count and his all-male entourage manage to enter the Comtesse’s palace dressed up as female pilgrims, sees a more conventional take on the story, but the brilliant stage direction makes every second enjoyable. This is especially true for the vocal threesome that is “A la faveur de cette nuit obscure”, as the contrast between the achingly beautiful legato lines and the comic situation (Ory is hoping to seduce Adèle and not realising that he is laying his hands on Isolier – who in turn is caressing Adèle) couldn’t be more effective. Everything in this production looks light and natural although if one looks closer, one realizes that nothing is left to coincidence, and even the clicking of a cigarette lighter and the brushing of teeth are integral parts of the music. If things ever get a bit on the juvenile side, it is because the situation lends itself to it – hormone-driven men (especially when wearing nun’s costumes and emptying one bottle of wine after the other) will end up doing silly things indeed, so why not have Ory use a baguette as a phallic symbol or twist his spine in attempting to peep under Adèle’s skirt.