I am fully in favour of the EIF taking artistic risks and bringing a high-calibre international production to Edinburgh. Marriage of Figaro from the Komische Oper Berlin is both, as it is the first production by Kirill Serebrennikov – the well-known Russian director who was placed under house arrest by the Putin regime and now lives in Berlin – to be seen in the UK.
But the EIF agreed to host the event in Berlin before the premiere, and while they certainly had suspicions about how “radical” the event was, I doubt they were prepared for the chaos that ultimately turned out to be.
For one thing, it didn’t fit on the Edinburgh Festival Theatre stage. Serebrennikov divides the stage horizontally into an upper/lower level model, but I heard many people in the upper tier of the theatre complaining that they couldn’t really see what was going on down below. Maybe they were lucky, because I could see everything and found much of it a shambles. 
The layout of the stage shows the Count’s house upstairs and the squalid servants’ quarters below. The Almavivas’ house is full of expensive-looking contemporary art and indeed by Act III it is not clear whether it is their home or actually a gallery as the guests are led through the exhibitions during the fandango proper at the end of Act III. It is a nice if hardly original idea to contrast the venal aristocrats with their downtrodden servants; but Serebrennikov clearly does not know what he is trying to achieve. Is he saying that the rich are evil exploiters? If so, get in line, Kirill: directors have been saying that for decades, especially at this house.
He crowds the stage with non-signing characters who, ironically, make a terrible noise with their actions. Cherubino becomes a mute character who can only communicate through Cherubina, a mezzo-soprano in love with him who translates his sign language for the other characters. Her presence, incidentally, makes Barbarina superfluous. In addition, the music is cut and spliced, so that arias appear in different places than Mozart intended. Worse still, the introduction to the string quartet “Dissonance” appears in Act 4 and, most egregiously, Act 3 begins with the farewell trio from That’s the way it is with everything. 
It’s entertaining at times, not least when trying to guess what’s coming next, but the big unanswered question about the whole production is: why? I couldn’t detect a single revelation in any of Serebrennikov’s directorial choices, and some of the cut-and-paste musical elements were certainly intended to provoke rather than enlighten. Most damagingly, all of this creates a distance between the music and the audience. Of all operas, this one should speak most directly to our human frailties and our capacity for love and forgiveness, but this is fatally weakened by wondering why a mass stabbing has taken place in the art gallery of all places, or whether the whole thing is taking place in the Count’s imagination.
There was musical consolation, with some really strong singing in the cast that I have seen, particularly from the ladies. Verity Wingate’s Countess (Picture below) was rich, creamy and luxurious, while Penny Sofroniadou’s Susanna was agile and bright. Karolina Gumos was young for a Marcellina and brought a whole new energy to the character’s music, while Patirica Nolz gave everything she had as Cherubina. Hubert Zapiór brought a sexy masculinity to the Count’s music, while Peter Kellner’s Figaro was roguish and energetic. The Komische Oper orchestra sounded fantastic under the direction of James Gaffigan, who kept everything moving with incredible verve, although how he was persuaded to go along with the textual puzzle is a mystery to me. 
None of this, however, made up for a theatrical experience that felt like thumbing one’s nose at the audience, which Serebrennikov no doubt thought was provocative, but was ultimately just boring. During the third act of the performance I saw, one audience member had clearly had enough and shouted “Boo! Outrageous!” At least he didn’t care. By this point, I wasn’t sure I cared anymore.
