The Metropolitan Opera revived “Le Nozze di Figaro” for the 2024-25 season.

I’ve seen this Richard Eyre production countless times and it’s always a breath of air to see how different casts can take the same directions, but breathe new life into them. And this cast was no different. When I reviewed the opera in 2021-22, I remarked how different approaches somehow cohered into something far greater. This was the complete opposite where stylistic approach was more consistent, if simpler, but the dramatic disposition was so cohesive that it lifted the entire experience. I don’t think I’ve witnessed an audience as engaged as the one I experienced on Monday’s opening night. Every previous joke landed, and new ones were allowed to emerge. But I never heard any of the dramatic moments get a laugh; the audience was hooked on the drama and the characters and that energy alone seemed to propel the performers further.

Core Four

The big headliner here was Federica Lombardi, who did the role in that 2021-22 season. That Contessa was her greatest success thus far at the Met and this revival only cemented that. “Porgi amor” was sung with the most delicate of piano sounds throughout, drawing the audience in. The soprano took her time with the phrases, singing several on extended breaths, but the aria still had a sense of forward movement I’ve rarely heard here. The same for “Dove sono,” which was delivered with gloriously connected lines and then the most subtle and gentle of ritenutos into the repeat of the main melody. From here, seated, she delivered this reprise with the softest of piano sound, a callback to her “Porgi amor” that suddenly had an even more tragic dimension. During the Allegro section of the aria, she allowed her voice to blossom, resonating sublimely at the climax of the aria.

Her beautiful piano sound was similarly impactful at the climax of the opera where the Countess forgives the Count. There was vulnerability and a tinge of sadness in her reply, and yet Lombardi’s physicality expressed the opposite, allowing for this moment to be given an added layer of complexity. The fact that it was she who rushed to kiss him moments later only strengthened the moment.

She had strong vocal chemistry with Kulchynska, which was most noticeable during their Act three duet “Sull’aria,” the two matching each other phrase for phrase before blending seamlessly at the apex of the passage. The same went for other ensembles, especially at the close of the opera with shift from D to G on “Ah tutti,” their voices vibrating in the hall gloriously.

As with her final interaction with the Count, Lombardi’s Countess was complex in her characterization, shifting from that bed-ridden woman to playful and flirtatious throughout her scenes with Cherubino. We saw her fiery temperament in the Act two confrontation with the Count, Lombardi never backing down and her voice unleashing its most aggressive qualities in this moment.

There’s a moment in this production where the Countess witnesses the Count flirting with Susanna. She’s staged in the background and then runs off when its too much to bear. Lombardi was impossible to look away from here, frustration, anger, hurt all mixed together as she approached from behind. Would she say something? You know she wouldn’t, but the performance here suggested an interruption might be imminent. Her decision to leave was all the more potent as a result.

As the Count, Joshua Hopkins acquitted himself quite well, delivering a performance that had both elegance but also more primitive qualities. This was best exemplified in his aria “Hai già vinta la causa! … Vedrò, mentr’io sospiro” where Hopkins mixed fluid legato lines with more aggressive accents, emphasizing the Count’s building rage, but also expressing his attempt to temper it. To that end, his voice was at its most polished, but also most rugged in this aria. The aria ends with a mighty ascent for the bass-baritone and Hopkins’ voice nailed the notes with a confidence that denoted the Count’s own sense of commitment to his vengeance. This aria was a solid climax for Hopkins and emblematic of his overall approach throughout the night. He leaned into the suave vocalism in his duet with Susanna, the phrasing gentle but teetering on bestial. Same went for the final seduction of “Susanna” / Countess in Act four where the emphatic consonants had a raw sexuality to them. While he could get lost in the larger ensembles vocally, physically he was fully committed to the interpretation of the Count as a brute. Even though Lombardi was taller then him, he somehow managed to find a way to tower over her in their Act two confrontation, viciously grabbing her by the throat at one point. He  definitely played up some of the reactions, particularly Susanna’s emergence from the Countess’ boudoir, standing frozen with an axe hanging over his head for a quasi-ridiculous amount of time that had audiences repeatedly giggling.

Michael Sumuel did not hold back physically as Figaro, playing him as an energizer bunny that danced about in small moments of victory, charmed with a winning smile, and had a suaveness of movement to boot. He has a rugged bass-baritone that took some time to warm up. He was at his best in “Se vuol ballare” during the Presto “L’arte schermendo,” where he could lean into those coarser edges and his strong articulation. The more lyrical sections of the aria, while solid, showed a bit of unease in the higher registers. He would gradually settle into the role, with a solid rendition of “Non più andrai” that played to his strengths both as an actor and a singer. He trumpeted through the vocal line with immaculate articulation, delineating its military-themed text, but also with a “rallying the troops” vibe for the distraught Cherubino. His finest moments came in the Act three sextet where Figaro realizes the identity of his parents. Sumuel had a lot of fun here with his co-stars, and Susanna’s slap to his face was particularly potent in its execution (Figaro gets slapped a lot and it seemed that Sumuel played up each one more and more to increasingly comic effect; I had one audience member behind me actually mentioning to a fellow audience member that she thought Sumuel was actually getting slapped). As with the others, he made the most of his big Act four aria “Aprite un po’ quegli occhi.” In this production, Figaro is given a lantern that he presumably points toward the audience at times to emphasize that he is talking to the audience as he warns men and denounces women. I’ve seen the production several times and there haven’t been any other Figaro interpreters that have committed to the act the way Sumuel did. Vocally, this aria demands a lot from its interpreter, asking him to jump between a low register and a higher one in alternating phrases. It tends to expose those with weaker lows as those phrases usually get lost in the orchestra or simply because the baritone is attempting to economize. Sumuel managed a solid mix, even if the highest parts of his voice didn’t have the same potency as they did in other moments. Nonetheless, his articulation here was pristine, the text cut through clearly and the phrasing shifted between a more fluid legato in the upper phrase and a more pointed one at the bottom. Sumuel unleashed his vocal polish at the end of Act four throughout “Tutto è tranquillo e placido,” where Figaro still believes he’s being deceived. Here he sang with beautiful legato, his voice as gentle as it had been all night. But once he realized he was with Susanna in disguise, he played up the seduction with outlandish physical gestures and a similarly robust and potent vocal sound.

Speaking of Susanna, she’s the glue that holds the entire opera together. She’s at the core of its conflict, but is also its heroine. Interpreting this incredible role was Olga Kulchynska who was a strong compliment for Sumuel. Throughout their opening duet, you could watch her mind race as she tried to find ways to get his attention. Ditto, the ensuing “Se a caso madama la notte ti chiama.” She offered a solid contrast to Sumuel, her physicality a bit more reserved, but no less energized and present. Vocally, she came with a less is more approach, her singing very solid and often eschewing over-embellishments. “Deh vieni non tardar” was a perfect encapsulation of this approach. She delivered the aria gracefully, but without the usual expansion one might hear in other interpretations – it was direct, faithful to the score, and sweet in its simplicity. She didn’t interpolate the usual high note in the cadenza one often hears. Her Act two aria, during which she dresses up Cherubino, had a similar calm and reserve; you often find other interpreters trying to, with their repeated “Madama qui non è,” play up Susanna’s increased annoyance with Cherubino. But her calming demeanor supported her interpretation of a poised Susanna. When she reappears from the boudoir to the shock of the Count and Countess, she emphasized the more relaxed and playful nature of her character in both her physical and vocal rapport. This consistency of approach opened up the door for the more dynamic shifts, such as her increased aggression toward Marcellina in their duet and the end of Act two, to come to the fore with greater potency. Same goes for her anger toward Figaro in their Act four reconciliation where her whipping of him actually came off as rather violent initially before slowly turning playful. Vocally, she managed a similar arc.

What was noticeable about the four leads was how well they played off of one another, they all felt dramatically and musically connected, leaving a strong sense of teamwork.

The Supporting Cast

Sun-Ly Pierce was a solid Cherubino. “Non so più cosa son” had strong articulation and drive, with Pierce’s middle voice particularly illuminating. It was in the higher reaches where that brilliance wore off a bit. This was more present still in “Voi che sapete,” where Pierce added ornamentation to the end of the aria, a lot of it ascending into her higher range. She didn’t quite pull it off, the voice never quite shining up there. It was surprising, given the overall vocal fluidity and polish present elsewhere in that second aria. Her line was elegant and connected, a beautiful contrast from the awkwardness she wanted to express in Cherubino’s uncertain gesturing with his hands. Her return in the final Act to accost the Countess was undoubtedly Pierce’s shining moment from a vocal and physical perspective, the sound coming through with confidence and potency. Her characterization of Cherubino was consistently fun though a bit one-note. “Non so più” was sung with a persistent smile and “Voi che sapate” showcased a similar joie de vivre. She was flirtatious throughout the scenes with the Countess and Susanna, playing up Cherubino’s playfulness. She drew a lot of attention (rightfully so) as she raced around Susanna and Figaro’ s room hiding from the Count. Her take on his Act four entrance suggested an inebriated Cherubino, thus justifying her over-the-top (and hilarious) dance moves. The direction for most seemed to be to play up every scenario and no one understood the assignment more than Pierce. But this approach seemed to overlook the complexity of the character, who, in this production, is outfitted with the same exact clothing as the Count in that final act. Nonetheless, it was a truly solid performance and her energy was as infectious as that of the four leads.

Mei Gui Zhang had a mixed night as Barbarina. She displayed excellent stage presence and her voice shone quite nicely throughout  her Act three appearances. I really looked forward to her Act four aria “L’ho perduta, me meschina!” However, it was surprisingly unsteady from a vocal perspective. She would alternate between straighter tone and a vibrato that sounded like it was trilling, especially in the higher reaches. The aria is brief and Zhang unfortunately never quite settled in, her final cadenza into the upper reaches of her soprano coming off a bit pinched. It was an unfortunate conclusion to what had been, to that point, a very solid performance.

Maurizio Muraro is the defacto Don Bartolo and while it’s clear that his top notes aren’t quite there in his “La vendetta,” sounding unsupported and pushed, the rest of his register remains as opulent as ever. Moreover, his experience in the role has allowed for a far more engaging interpretation. Like everyone else, he played up the character’s obnoxious nature, flaunting the paper in Marcellina’s face throughout his aria and then doing the same at the close of Act one. He had tremendous chemistry with Sumuel in the Act three sextet, the two playing off one another splendidly as they awkwardly tried to hug for the first time.

Same for Elizabeth Bishop, the go-to for Marcellina. She had a blast with Kulchysnka in their duet, playing up Marcellina’s offended reactions to Susanna. In the sextet, as she approached Kulchynska’s Susanna, she did so with trepidation, calling back to the dynamic from the duet and the Act one finale where the two were particularly in one another’s faces. Audiences were in fits of laughter as she approached Susanna and tried to embrace her as a daughter, flinching away as the other swatted at her.

Brenton Ryan was a breath of fresh air as Basilio. Instead of playing him like a joke, he aimed for a more suave vocal approach, giving him even more of a snake-like character. He also used his height as an advantage to intimidate and obstruct, allowing for some comic moments throughout the Act one trio.

Paul Corona and Tony Stevenson are also staples to the roles of Antonio and Don Curzio and they were both in particularly solid voice. Stevenson’s tenor rang rather vibrantly throughout the duet, particularly during the menacing “Al fiero tormento” that he sings alongside the Count. Corona played up the awkwardness and aggressive of Antonio in the Act two finale, allowing for some sparks to fly with Sumuel.

In the pit, Joanna Mallwicz did not have a completely auspicious debut. The overture was unbalanced and orchestra didn’t always cohere, with the strings in particular not fully in synch. The crescendo to the coda was substantial and potent and there were other stylist gestures throughout that added to the musical build, but it wasn’t the most confident start. Things improved somewhat in the duets and arias, especially tricky passages like “Aprite, presto, aprite,” but ensembles were noticeably messy. The women’s chorus in Act three was one notable example, but the same could be said for the big septet that ends Act two where everyone was constantly trying to find one another. Balance, at least from the orchestra section, was wonky at times; the Act three sextet seemed to favor Curzio quite a bit, nullifying the Count in the mix and also overpowering the other four singers.

Thankfully the glorious ensemble launched by “Contessa, perdona” was cohesive and expansive. Mallwicz was a great listener throughout the major arias, with “Dove sono” the standout, the conductor and Lombardi together as one throughout. Tempi were solid throughout part one but the opera ended 15 minutes later than the program suggested and you could definitely feel a bit of a lull setting in in the second half.

In all, the cast’s enjoyment was infectious. It was hard not to come away with a smile from a production where the ultimate experience far surpassed any noticeable blemishes.