Le nozze di Figaro

STORY

Act I

It is the day of Figaro’s wedding to Susanna, maid to the Countess. Figaro, valet to the Count, is assessing the bedroom offered to him by his employer; it conveniently adjoins both the Count’s and the Countess’ apartments. Susanna points out that the room will also be ‘convenient’. Figaro determines to outwit his master. But Figaro owes money to Marcellina, and has promised to marry her if he does not repay her. He has also raised the ire of Dr Bartolo the Countess’ former guardian, for his role in helping bring about the Count’s marriage to the Countess. To complicate matters further, the young page Cherubino wants someone to intercede on his behalf with the Count, who has dismissed him from the castle after catching him with Antonio’s daughter, Barbarina. Suddenly the Count shows up, causing disarray. Cherubino hides and hears the Count’s overtures to Susanna. The Count in turn hides, and overhears Basilio, the music master, making insinuations about Cherubino and the Countess. The Count emerges, discovers the unfortunate page, and sends him to join his regiment.

Act II

The Countess prays for the return of her husband’s love. Figaro reveals his plan to outwit the Count: he has sent him an anonymous letter implying that the Countess has a lover. Susanna points out that Marcellina can still invoke the debt and stop the wedding, and a second plan is hatched. Susanna will agree to meet the Count in the garden, but Cherubino will go disguised in her place. Figaro instructs the women to dress Cherubino appropriately. The page entertains the ladies by singing his latest composition. When he is half undressed, the Count arrives. Having received Figaro’s letter, he is in a jealous rage. Cherubino, hidden in the closet, knocks over a chair. The Countess, in a panic, pretends that the noise is Susanna, but refuses to unlock the door; meanwhile, Susanna rescues Cherubino. Susanna locks herself in the closet. The Countess attempts to explain to her husband the presence of Cherubino in her closet. She is as surprised as the Count when it is Susanna who emerges. The two women pretend that the whole episode was a trick to provoke the Count into better treatment of his wife. They confess that the letter was written by Figaro, who then joins them, unaware of the women’s revelations to the Count. When Bartolo, Basilio and Marcellina arrive with a lawsuit to force Figaro’s marriage to Marcellina, the Count is triumphant.

Act III

The Countess and Susanna open the third act with a plan to disrupt the Count’s amorous intentions. Susanna will agree to meet the Count that evening in the garden, but the Countess will go in her place, disguised as her maid. On the advice of his legal consultant, Don Curzio, the Count insists that Figaro pay Marcellina at once or marry her. Figaro is saved by the timely revelation that he is the long-lost son of Marcellina and Bartolo; everyone but the Count and Don Curzio embraces their new relations. Finally the wedding celebrations of Figaro and Susanna begin. Cherubino is unmasked among the bridesmaids, but Barbarina shames the Count into allowing him to stay at the castle. Susanna passes the Count the letter dictated by the Countess, confirming her evening rendezvous with him under the pine trees.

Act IV

In the garden, everybody is waiting: the Count and Figaro for Susanna; the Countess for the Count. Figaro rails against the faithlessness of Susanna, while she looks forward to the conclusion of her plans. The appearance of Cherubino is potentially disastrous, but the Count arrives and woos ‘Susanna’, in fact his wife. The jealous Figaro is then confronted by Susanna, disguised as the Countess, but he recognises his bride and they are reconciled – witnessed by the Count, who believes he sees his wife in the arms of his valet. He denounces her; the real Countess unmasks herself and forgives her husband. The day ends in celebration.

Sir Thomas Allen

INSIGHTS

Figaro in the vineyards

Director Jeremy Sams on his new production

I’ve known this opera for longer than I care to, or am able to, remember. As a kid I studied it for O Level; in middle age I was lucky enough to be asked to translate it for English National Opera; and I’ve lost count of the number of performances and productions I’ve seen there and elsewhere. So, now in old(er) age, to be asked to direct it was a delightful surprise. I felt I knew it really well, but only as an onlooker – it was high time to get properly immersed.

Figaro is one of the few operas to genuinely observe Aristotle’s ‘unities’. It all happens in one place (the Count’s estate), on one day (La folle journée or ‘The Mad Day’ is Beaumarchais’ actual title), and with one main plot (the mariage of Beaumarchais’ subtitle. It’s about Figaro’s wedding, not his marriage). So, first things first, where to set it? I recall a holiday in St Emilion in France – a huge area given over to one crop only, grapes for the production of wine. And peppered throughout the countryside were châteaux, self-contained estates in the middle of vast vineyards. Some of which make ends meet by having guests, and putting on weddings. Some are visibly collapsing and decaying – apparently young people don’t drink red wine any more. That, I thought, was very Figaro: a hermetically sealed place, rooted in feudal tradition, challenged by the fact that the world is changing. A place which nature (not just plant life, but also human nature) was eventually going to engulf.

Nature in Figaro is pretty much centred in Act Four, which some people think of as a coda. For me, though, Act Four is where we are heading throughout the evening – hence, in the set that our designer Alex Doidge-Green came up with, leaves and trees are pushing their way onto the stage throughout the show. So, we are in a wine estate. Many of them date from the turn of the 19th century, but should we set it then? I didn’t particularly want to do frills, furbelows and frockcoats – to me they so often look like costumes, as opposed to what actual people might actually wear. And staging this in 2025 seemed to raise too many questions (and answers) about sexual politics. So we plumped for a very vaguely 70s to 80s look: a time when it was acknowledged, if not accepted, that the boss of a business might well try it on with a member of the staff – and when women’s reactions ranged from indignation to emulation (let’s not forget that in Beaumarchais’ sequel, Cherubino sires the Countess’ child). Rivals, basically, but much more serious – and much sadder.

An opera in four acts, of course. But, most vitally, in one day. We were very keen to show not one set per act, but one basic set that spins and turns and adumbrates one story as it develops during that day. Writing this mid-rehearsal, I’m pleased to report that working on this masterpiece with wonderful young singers is not a matter so much of directing, but of discovery. And if something’s not yet gelling or flowing it certainly isn’t Mozart’s fault, nor Da Ponte’s. It’s for us, for a roomful of us, to work out. And we are, bit by bit, doing just that. Discovering.