The Marriage of Figaro
Opera Magazine, July 2003

Music Theatre London at the Drill Hall, May 11

Tony Britten's productions for MTL don't stand still: this Figaro had been significantly developed since I last saw and enjoyed it. The Count, or rather Sir Michael, is now in the midst of a bid for the Conservative leadership, and there are jokes about the Tories' campaign against the BBC, about Jeremy Paxman and about Barry Legg (who he? A week in politics is a long time). The updating extends to the Countess's ribbon, now her knickers, and to Figaro being told about Cherubino's unsealed commission by text message. Figaro turns out to have been conceived on an organic cabbage patch at Highgrove, or rather on a sandbag thereon ('A sandbag!?!!). Oh yes. Britten's dialogue is smart as paint.

There are many cuts (don't tell anyone, but I never miss 'Venite, inginocchiatevi", which doesn't advance the plot at all) to bring the show in at two and a half hours, which is how long Britten thinks a musical should last, and this is very much Figaro-the Musical. The slyest and longest cut comes with the e-mail duet: the Countess presses 'send' on her laptop and exits with Susanna. Basilio comes in, automatically enters "sent mail", and leaves it open for Figaro to read: cut to a perfectly motivated 'Aprite un po'. Neat, or what?

Fine cast: NigelRichards, an ebullient comic and good singer as Figaro: Kathleen Schueppert a sweet Susanna who sadly swallowed her words:Julian Forsyth a horribly believable Tory MP (Britten isn't shy about his political views): Stephen Ashfield an equally credible Tory-boy PA on the make as Basilio: the experienced Simon Masterton-Smith doubling Bartolo and Antonio (very authentic, and brilliant in both roles): Rosamund Shelley a glamorous Marcellina. Mary Lincoln found the Countess's arias a bit of a challenge, but Melanie Gutteridge, an actress who had never sung on stage before, was a quite wonderful Cherubino. He was shy about singing "Voi che sapete' ('I haven't demo-ed it yet') and then slouched like the most casual pop-singer and sang it very beautifully indeed. And in her all-purpose, all-gender Oxfam costume. Gutteridge looked disturbingly, androgynously gorgeous.

Nicholas Bloomfield directed his band of six from behind and above the stage (neat arrangements by Britten and Terry Davies) and the audience was kept laughing merrily throughout the 150 minutes. I kept wondering, subversively, whether MTL on tour to similar venues might not do more good for the cause of opera than "respectable" (and underfunded) ETO. Their dramatic values are those of the West End, and there's nothing wrong with their music, either. Just a thought.

RODNEY MILNES