What function goes unfulfilled by a colony of seismic wooden doors? The set design of the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Il Barbiere di Siviglia” imagines and utilizes nearly every arrangement of a collective of panel doors to demarcate the streets of Seville and the estate of Doctor Bartolo – especially the gmsreat room and Rosina’s bedroom. Bereft of inventiveness, the sets appear forced, a means of cutting corners for an otherwise prodigal production. The absence of a substantial set is overshadowed by the lukewarm acoustics and uninspired performances of the majority, apart from those of Rodion Pogossov, as Figaro, and Rob Besserer, as Ambrogio.
Perceivably fifteen feet tall, the doors dwarf the singers and are among the first of a series of aggrandized, balloon props. Extras oscillate about the stage and maneuver the doors to form either a line, to signify a room, or a zigzag, to signify the snaking streets of Seville. These inorganic movements distract from the flow of the opera and sometimes come across as clumsy or, conversely, highly-routinized and overdone. The doors prove auspicious, however, as a prudent means of entrance and escape; singers latch onto a door, twirl about for a few moments, secure the door in a new location, and promptly exit the stage.
In line with the sensationalist motif, Figaro makes his sedentary debut atop a wagon nearly twice his height. The wagon houses Figaro’s grooming supplies, hand mirrors, and sundry hairpieces. Like the wagon, Pogossov is larger than life; his animated and effervescent character enlivens the comatose crowd.
Early in the second act, Figaro adopts a new profession, interloper, and tiptoes into Bartolo’s great room where Count Almaviva (Javier Camarena) gives Rosina (Isabel Leonard) a music lesson. Unbeknownst to Bartolo (Maurizio Muraro), Figaro assumes Rosina’s place on stage. Figaro then extends his arm, much to the delight of Bartolo, who greedily smothers it with kisses. Pogossov’s facial expressions mimic those of a festive schoolgirl and his posture dips ever so slightly. Muffled laughs circle the room as Figaro allows the charade to continue, ultimately to the embarrassment of Bartolo. Undeterred by the homoerotic overtones, Pogossov delivers a charismatic burst of comedy that ripples through the audience and engenders pandemic applause.
Dimwitted and maladroit, Ambrogio challenges Figaro as the opera’s comedic headmaster. Ambrogio leisurely wheels a cart of pumpkins across stage, initially unaware of the looming and prodigious anvil. Within moments, the anvil crushes the cart and Ambrogio falters offstage like a tumbleweed in the Gobi Desert. Bessemer’s exaggerated movements heighten the hilarity of the occasion. He later falls asleep amidst a passionate duet between Bartolo and the Count. Bessemer’s bobbing head, limp posture, and buckled toes validate his pretense. A subsequent, unanticipated outcry carries a shrill, vexing tone that startles his on-stage companions, yet proves endearingly comical.
In terms of vocal intensity, each singer meets the bare minimum. Leonard fulfills her duties as Rosina, singing in pleasant pitch and sweeping across the stage effortlessly. Her arias, however, lack the impulsion of coloratura soprano Beverly Sills. Singing “Una Voce Poco Fa,” Sills embellishes the aria with fervent gestures and robust vocals, unlike mezzo-soprano Leonard, who converges on corporally expressed interpretation, yet practices a subdued, less ostentatious vocal arrangement.
Camarena also underwhelms with censored vocals throughout and a deferred, ephemeral incandescence at the opera’s close. As a tenor, Camarena’s regnant flashes are few and far between. He satisfies the role of Count Almaviva, but lacks the soul or life that the name suggests. Only in his final aria does Camarena arise from dormancy, reach an operatic climax, and deliver an impassioned rendition.
Void of vocal audacity, innovative sets, and a general symbiosis, the production marches on torpidly and unenthusiastically; it flickers like a candle without a wick. The only saving grace is Pogossov, though he cannot mobilize the relief efforts necessary to salvage the show.
