Review: Opera North’s The Marriage of Figaro at Leeds Grand Theatre

“…breathtakingly fresh and endlessly clever…”

Opera North’s The Marriage of Figaro, Leeds Grand Theatre

By Sean Sable

I once saw someone describe The Marriage of Figaro as “Bridgerton with a more confusing plot,” and whilst I’d argue the plot isn’t confusing so much as delightfully chaotic, the comparison is joyously apt. Opera North’s new production, though, feels less Bridgerton and a little more like Downton Abbey—if the Crawleys had to deal with a philandering lord, a lovesick teenage page, and a wedding that kept getting derailed by increasingly ridiculous hijinks. Director Louisa Muller and designer Madeleine Boyd have set Mozart’s comedy in a crumbling English “pile”, complete with tourists snapping photos and a family desperately trying to keep the doors open. It’s a world where legacy is expected but not respected, and it proves the perfect vehicle for modernising the class tensions of the original play.

Mozart’s opera, based on Beaumarchais’s scandalous 1784 play, caused rather a stir in its day. The idea that servants could outwit their aristocratic masters was revolutionary enough to be banned in Vienna by Emperor Joseph II. In fact, librettist Lorenzo da Ponte had to strip out the play’s most provocative bits just to get permission though, fortunately, its subversive heart remained. The opera premiered in May 1786 with Mozart himself conducting, and this is the first time in Opera North’s 47-year history that they’ve performed it in the original Italian.

The story unfolds over a single madcap day. Figaro and Susanna, both servants, are trying desperately to get married, but the Count has his sights set on Susanna. Meanwhile, the Countess longs for the return of her husband’s affection, an older woman has manufactured a contract to marry Figaro, and Cherubino (the Count’s randy teenage page) is desperately in love with every woman within a five-foot radius. It’s a merry-go-round of deception and shenanigans, and by the end everyone’s hiding under stairs, passing notes, jumping out of windows, and wearing disguises.

Though simple, Boyd’s set design is endlessly clever. We begin in a narrow boot room, all higgledy-piggledy with the furniture and workday clutter of a busy English estate. As the story progresses, the space transforms: a bathroom with a bathtub and stairs, a grand hall suggested by a single wall and chandelier, and finally the stables. Each scene was tied together visually with an ingenious diagonal motif inspired by a staircase that appeared in nearly every scene, flipped, moved, and redecorated to create a through-line that made the house feel cohesive, even if we only ever saw it in parts. With each set change, we watched the pieces move into place with the precision of clockwork, and that repeating diagonal line gave everything a sense of spring-tightened energy.

The costumes matched the sets in their authenticity, with each character wearing clothes that fit their station and silhouette. The Countess wore flowing dresses that looked elegant without fussiness, whilst the men appeared in jumpers and shirts like any proper English country gentleman would do. Susanna’s wedding dress, a white brocade with embroidered flowers and a birdcage veil, was particularly swoon-worthy.

Muller gave real thought to breathing fresh life into a 250-year-old story that might otherwise feel like an opera relic, too tied to the humour and culture of its time. One of her smartest choices was adding a pregnancy subplot for the Countess. In a contemporary world where divorce is easy, why would she stay with such an unfaithful husband? The answer can be found woven through nursery preparations and tiny baby clothes: she wants to build a family with him. And Gabriella Reyes brought such compassion to the role that you absolutely believed in that longing. Reyes’ voice was pristine. Every note was so clear it felt like hearing a single piano key struck—an impossible purity that doesn’t seem like it should come from a human. Seeing her sing Dove sono is worth the price of admission alone.

Liam James Karai’s Figaro had something I can only describe as perfect “Figaro energy”: cheeky, youthful, and winkingly clever. I consider myself something of a baritone connoisseur and his bass-baritone voice was absolutely gorgeous. And what is a good love story without heaps of romantic chemistry? The spark between him and Hera Hyesang Park’s Susanna felt so effortless that it’s difficult to imagine they aren’t a real-life couple. I often think that Susanna is a difficult role, as, despite what the title suggests, the story is more about the reconciliation of the Count and Countess than about the trajectory of Susanna and Figaro. In most scenes, Susanna’s role is supportive, not centred, making it easy for her to get lost in the crowd. But Park kept Susanna from getting overshadowed by the bigger characters, playing her as quick-witted, and never intimidated by the Count’s advances.

James Newby gave the Count just enough smarminess without ever descending completely into villainy. It’s a difficult balance. The Count is adulterous, jealous, and more than a bit gross, but we still need to want his reconciliation with the Countess at the end. But Newby threaded the needle perfectly, and his more aristocratic baritone served as the perfect foil for Figaro’s more elastic performance.

And now we get to Cherubino—the performance that unquestionably owned the evening. Hongni Wu must have spent hours studying teenage body language, because she was teenager incarnate. The sulking posture, the random leg-scratching when dressed as a bridesmaid, the insta-swagger when ladies appeared, she oscillated between petulant child and aspiring ladies’ man with rampant hormonal energy. In a role that can easily feel too stiff when directors shy away from the inherent lasciviousness of the role, or creepy when overplayed, Wu made Cherubino utterly harmless and hilariously funny.

Valentina Peleggi conducted the Orchestra of Opera North with sensitivity, and they sounded magnificent. Going to Opera North productions always feels like I am getting one over on them: Opera and a free night at the symphony. Malcolm Rippeth’s lighting was subdued, plucking performers gently from darkness without harsh spotlighting and incorporating practical lighting that added an additional layer of storytelling.

My favourite moment of the evening came at the wedding, when the nuptials were complete and the characters began dancing. The Count and Countess moved with gloriously awkward wedding energy. Snapping fingers, and jerky movements that can only be described as “the white man’s overbite” meets “The Carlton”. This is why Figaro is funny—this is why it’s relevant. Not because it’s historical humour viewed from a distance, but because these people, these foibles, are just as absurd and recognisable today.

After having seen multiple period productions over the years, this contemporary version felt breathtakingly fresh and reminded me why I fell in love with The Marriage of Figaro in the first place. It’s endlessly clever, and it proves that a story about the underdog outsmarting their master never goes out of style.

Opera North’s The Marriage of Figaro plays at Leeds Grand Theatre until Friday 20 February. Tickets are available here.

Sean Sable is a Yorkshire-based freelance writer and editor specialising in Young Adult and Horror fiction, frequently at the same time. When she isn’t buried under a pile of books and manuscripts, she is looking for her keys and having extensive one-sided conversations, in Swedish, with her deaf cat. You can find her online at: www.seansable.co.uk