Lawlessness in Seville

Mozart-LE NOZZE DI FIGARO: Sydney Manacasola, Iulia Maria Dan, Rihab Chaieb, Marianne Cornetti; Brandon Cedel, Luke Sutliff, Patrick Carfizzi/Atlanta Opera Chorus & Orchestra/Christopher Allen, cond.; Stephen Lawless, dir.; Leslie Travers, des.; seen March 22

All that was missing from Atlanta Opera's Le Nozze di Figaro were custard pies to the face. That is, if your idea of Figaro is more Mack Sennett than Mozart/da Ponte. No farcical stone was left unturned by Stephen Lawless' well-traveled, Keystone Kops production, pulling into the Cobb Centre after stops in Kansas City, Philadelphia, San Diego and Palm Beach.

The curtain rose on a gray, terra cotta wall bearing the Almaviva family tree (seen above). This vista, along with Thomas C. Hase's low-angle lighting plot, indicated we were in Jean-Pierre Ponnelle territory—not a bad place to be. Unfortunately, Lawless offered an aggressively dumbed-down version of Ponnelle's iconic Mozart style, as though afraid American audiences wouldn't 'get' anything subtler than a whack upside the head. However, unsubtle Mozart is a contradiction in terms.

Granted, our friend Wolfgang Amadeus loved off-color humor more than most and a certain amount from Lawless was permissible, even welcome. But there were enough priapic gags for an entire run of Lysistrata, plus sound effects straight out of Fibber McGee's Closet. Generally speaking, Lawless' notion of comedy is that if a piece of shtick works once (like Cherubino doing a male-stripper act), the fourth repetition will be downright hysterical. Spoiler alert: It's not.

While the director was firmly in command of stagecraft per se (as in Act IV's frequent comings and goings), his stylistic approach condescended to opera and audience alike. The delicate tightrope walk of humor and gravitas that Mozart and da Ponte achieved was defenestrated in favor of an attempted laff-riot. In particular, Count Almaviva (Luke Sutliff) was portrayed as such an infantile figure that the threat he represented was completely dissipated. Figaro (Brandon Cedel) need hardly do anything in order to prevail.

The lowbrow goings-on upstaged fine work by designer Leslie Travers. His costumes were consistently stylish and striking, while his unit setting—a pair of walls that pivoted and redeployed, sometimes within scenes—performed a double function. It kept the action intimate and it also helped project voices forward in the porous Cobb Centre acoustic.

Musically, things were in good hands. Conductor Christopher Allen led a fleet, sinewy reading and drew admirable balance from the Atlanta Opera Orchestra. (The chorus of peasant girls had seen many a summer, though, and sounded it.) The reprise of "Giovani, liete" in Act I was cut, as were Marcellina's and Don Basilio's Act IV arias. The Raeburn-Moberly reordering of Act III was employed. Cherubino and Barbarina sang the "Amanti, costanti" duet, to good effect.

The singers were encouraged to liberally decorate their arias—well to the good—but recitatives were left unadorned. Although Basilio was nominally doubled with Don Curzio, per Mozart's initial practice, here it was a ruse: "Curzio" was merely Basilio in disguise, in attempt to pull a legalistic fast one on Figaro.

Bluff and robust-sounding, Cedel was a one-dimensional Figaro: a big, jolly fellow who occasionally loses his temper. His bass is a "house filler" but was unevenly produced, tending to boom out suddenly, rather than making steady gradations from piano to forte. His Susanna, Sydney Manacasola, had a positive impact, relying more on voice than personality. She vouchsafed both a satisfying messa di voce and persuasive ornaments in "Deh, vieni," a task not made easier by having to perform a striptease simultaneously. (The number was played as a seduction.)

More man than master, Sutliff's Count seconded Lawless' every encouragement to mug all too enthusiastically. Such gross, shameless buffoonery sat oddly with his fluent vocalism, ever attentive to Mozartian manners. He even essayed the more-florid version of "Vedro mentr'io sospiro" with great success. Sutliff's repertory includes Wagner's Wolfram. If Atlanta Opera mounts Tannhauser, it should invite him back.

His wronged Countess, Romanian soprano Iulia Maria Dan, cut a tall, willowy figure onstage, with a sizable voice and prominent vibrato. She got off to a squally start in "Porgi amor" but finished it exquisitely, while "Dove sono" received a limpid and affecting traversal. Dan dominated the scenic picture whenever she was present, but seemed to have been directed to play the Countess as "zany," which undercut the character's affronted dignity.

As Cherubino, Rihab Chaieb was the total package. Not only did she perfectly look the part and move extremely well, her plummy, compact tone hit all targets. It fell pleasingly on the ear and it was hard to believe she will topline next year's Atlanta Carmen. But such is the case. One hopes Chaieb is getting good career advice, as she's a treasure.

Other than Chaieb's, the best-produced voices belonged to the most senior members of the ensemble: Patrick Carfizzi's Dr. Bartolo and Marianne Cornetti's Marcellina. (Imagine having Amneris as your housekeeper!) Carfizzi's bass rolled smoothly throughout his dynamic range, and was unfurled with purpose and ease alike. Time and heavy repertory have worn some of the nap from Cornetti's mezzo but hers is still a voice of importance. Both artists were capital comedians, too, making the most of Lorenzo da Ponte's text.

Thanks to Lawless, there was a severe Don Basilio overload, with the supporting character made ubiquitous and disagreeably camped-up. Wayd Odle was regrettably all-in with this interpretation. His large voice also unbalanced the concerted numbers ... Odle's upcoming assignments include understudying Siegfried. Egad!

Groped by Count Almaviva in front of the assembled household, Barbarina (Amanda Sheriff) was a saucy baggage, very ripely sensual. All of which conspired to sabotage Barbarina's affecting Act IV arietta about her lost virtue. Judging by her voice and musicianship, Sheriff won't be singing supporting roles for long. And Kyle White's youthful Antonio had plenty of both personality and voice—more of the latter than Almaviva gardeners usually possess. (The role customarily goes to crusty old bassos long on comedic chops but short on singing tone.)

One final gripe: In "La vendetta," Dr. Bartolo sang that Figaro would soon be Marcellina's ("vostro sara"). The surtitles, however, proclaimed that he would be vanquished ("vinto sara"). C'mon, guys. I aired this exact same complaint about the Minnesota Opera production a quarter-century ago. It's a simple fix. Or do they think nobody will notice?

The opera played to a gratifyingly packed house, an encouragement after last fall's La Traviata saw many empty seats. Artistically, though, this Le Nozze di Figaro was a misstep. The Tomer Zvulun regime in Atlanta rarely puts a foot wrong (and happily prizes musical values most). But it definitely and painfully stubbed its toe on Mozart.–David McKee