THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO at the Edinburgh International Festival

★★★★

“a provocative and often ingenious take on one of the greatest operas ever created”

This production of The Marriage of Figaro, brought to the 2024 Edinburgh International Festival, may not please everyone. It’s an updated, plot tampered, gadget laden sparkler of a show directed by the Komische Oper Berlin’s Kirill Serebrennikov, who also designed the set and costumes. It’s not the first time a director has modernized Mozart, but Serebrennikov doesn’t just update set and costumes. This Marriage of Figaro is less about class warfare and more about the role of art as commodity, in defining the power of the ruling classes. From the divided set showing life above and below stairs, political statements regarding clothing or the lack of it, Serebrennikov and his company hold our attention, while delighting our ears.

There’s a lot of wit packed into the visuals of this production, quite apart from the jokes in the original libretto. Serebrennikov’s set emphasizes the divide between the rich and the poor. The set protrays the Count’s home as a large, museum like space designed expressly for showing off an expensive art collection. The house is as empty as the Count and Countess’s marriage, but the jokes emerge as the art pieces begin to inhabit the space as though they were characters. At one point, quite late in the opera, the characters actually become art pieces. The line between living art, and characters as art, disappears. Everything is an exercise in fluidity. Since The Marriage of Figaro has been celebrated as a major artistic achievement since its opening performance in 1786, this is all very witty and appropriate.

Contrast this with life in the servants’ quarter. Here everyone is crammed into a subterranean, windowless laundry room. It’s here that the help arrives in the morning to dress for their roles as servants upstairs. An elderly woman has been there first, naturally, starting the washing machines, sweeping up, trying to be of use so that she still has a place she can call home. It’s also the place where Figaro, the Count’s valet, and Susanna, the Countess’s maid, are going to begin their married life. Despite its grunginess, the laundry room is paradoxically a place of hope and laughter; of people helping one another to get by. It’s also the place where plans are hatched that seem perfectly feasible when planned downstairs, only to go hilariously wrong when they are moved upstairs. All this is true enough to the original spirit of Mozart’s opera.

There is one innovation, however, that raises questions. This production of The Marriage of Figaro delights in modern dress, and also male nudity. Usually this wouldn’t be an issue one way or another. But it’s Cherubino who spends the most of his time in various state of undress (and even as a silver painted statue). Cherubino, the young man always falling in love with every woman he encounters, is a soprano role. Serebrennikov’s solution is to present the audience with a Cherubino and a Cherubina. Cherubino is conveniently mute, and Cherubina has to do his singing for him. It’s a messy solution, because this is no Magic Flute where Papageno’s whole purpose on stage is to search for his Papagena, his little wife. The soprano singing Cherubino has little to do on stage, other than facilitate and explain the actions of her doppelgänger. But other than that, the updating on this Marriage of Figaro works well, especially as the roles of the other women in the cast are moved to centre stage. Susanna, rightly, is seen as the protagonist, with Figaro her delightful foil. The emphasis gives added meaning to the jealousy that each suffers when suspecting the other of infidelity. The role of Marcellina gains added importance as well, which Serebrennikov underlines by including her aria Il capro e la capretta, which is often omitted.

The wit in the visuals of this production extends to the orchestra in the pit. Did I mention the use of mobiles, and text messages that are projected onto the famous mattress that Figaro is measuring at the start? Guess what instrument plays the tones to announce a call is coming in! There are added jokes about mobile phone reception (always difficult to get in the basement) but the music has no difficulty in reaching us fortunately. Under the assured direction of James Gaffigan, there’s not a false note throughout. There are actually two casts for this production which, considering the length of the show, and the demands of the parts, makes a lot of sense. On this evening, I saw Andrey Zhilikhovsky as Count Almaviva, Nadja Mchantaf as the Countess, Siobhan Stagg as Susanna, Tommaso Barea as Figaro, Susan Zarrabi as Cherubina, Ulrike Helzel as Marcellina, Philipp Meierhöfer as Bartolo and Ivan Turšić as Basilio. The non speaking role of Cherubino was performed by Georgy Kudrenko. They all worked exceptionally well as a company, and Susanna was rightly applauded for her lead.

This production is performed on a lavish scale. It’s full of contemporary aesthetic and political meaning that can take a while to unpack, however. If you don’t know it well, I’d advise preparing ahead of time so that you can focus your attention squarely on the performers, and Mozart’s music. The art and the clothing are also rather distracting but fortunately not to the extent that they overpower the performances of the cast. All of which is very much in the spirit of The Marriage of Figaro. It’s a provocative and often ingenious take on one of the greatest operas ever created.

THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO at the Edinburgh International Festival – Festival Hall

Reviewed on 17th August 2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Monika Rittershaus

THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO

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★★★

“occasionally funny, often angry, frequently absurd, and sometimes quite sad”

Honestly, this one is really hard to review. Writer-performer Sammy Trotman, in her one-woman ‘not a show’ (Press copy) about the mental health system, even talks about having a reviewer in during the show in a way which reads ‘good luck reviewing this one!’. She tells us it’s not a show. And even if it is a show, who is it for? Her director, Jake Rix, who makes several on-stage appearances and tries to make sure the show gets back on track, wants to make it a show for the audience. But Trotman doesn’t really care about the audience. The show asks, amongst other things, when we make shows about our trauma, who are we making them for?

The show begins with Rix informing the audience about the content warnings. He wants to know how we feel about them. This is a show (or, not a show) about challenging the mental health system, and particularly the way that the system applies labels, which are rooted in capitalism and patriarchy. Throughout the show, Trotman dances, sings, spits out chocolate and crisps, has tantrums, strips, and dresses in a Waitrose shopping bag. It’s messy. It’s chaos. She screams and shouts in an in-yer-face sort of way, runs out of the room, speaks out text which is lyrical, rhythmical and full of poetic imagery.

Stylistically, I’d say it’s quite purposefully anti-style. Like the labels on her mental health, which Trotman protests, she refuses to put herself or this show in a box. She tells us she developed an eating disorder when she went to boarding school. I don’t know how common this is, but it’s certainly not the first time I’ve heard of this experience. She started writing comedy in a psychiatric ward last year, which has led to the creation of a show which fuses stand-up, performance art, comedy, poetry, movement, audience interaction, and shouting. Lots and lots of shouting.

It feels redundant to comment on what does and doesn’t work stylistically, because I don’t think that’s the point of the show. From my own experience, it was occasionally funny, often angry, frequently absurd, and sometimes quite sad. Trotman doesn’t shy away from the fact she’s an attention seeker, in fact she embraces it, and reminds us several times. She also acknowledges her privilege, as a white, middle class, privately educated woman, performing at the Edinburgh Festival. A lot of the show feels like she’s actively making it hard for us to watch. Whether that’s reminding us of her privilege, screaming at the top of her lungs, flirting quite menacingly with an audience member (specifically the one sat next to his partner), or an explosive pop of a crisp packet. And it is often uncomfortable viewing. Some bits are too long. The choices seem random. The structure is all over the place. I can’t say I enjoyed it. I’m not sure I’m meant to? But I’ve no doubt there will plenty of people who connect with this.

I think with more focus, more specificity, this could be a really groundbreaking piece of work. But it’s not there yet, and I’m not sure that’s the point anyway.

Category Archives: Reviews

THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO

★★★★

Edinburgh International Festival

THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO at the Edinburgh International Festival

★★★★

“a provocative and often ingenious take on one of the greatest operas ever created”