New York City Opera Season Opens With ‘The Marriage of Figaro’

Opening night at the New York City Opera revealed many of the reasons why sometimes it’s worth going there rather than to the nation’s leading opera house next door.

It’s not too often that the neighboring Metropolitan Opera engages a cast of relatively unknown American singers to render a well-acted, appealing performance without the distractions of star turns.

The City Opera did it Tuesday with “The Marriage of Figaro” -- not sublime Mozart and not a transcendent musical experience, but yet a satisfying theatrical one.

City Opera had to cancel much of its last season because of a strike, settled early this year. And Tuesday’s was its first performance under new director Christopher Keene.

The singers responded well to each other and the action was completely in harmony with the notes, conducted by Scott Bergeson.

There was some heaviness in moving passages and the singers at times seemed to produce blocks of notes rather than lines, but generally Bergeson kept things moving. The ensembles -- really the glories of “Figaro” -- were well-balanced. Intonation problems surfaced occasionally in the orchestra.

The sets and costumes of Carl Toms were straightforwardly 18th century, spare and unencumbered by Rococco ornament, but warm with wood paneling and ochre colors.

John Copley’s direction of this 1977-production was completely engaging, but most engaging of all was Maureen O’Flynn’s Susanna. She showed that a small voice spinning focused lines with dramatic feeling conveyed through the notes is better than any prima donna display.

“Figaro” is really a work about love and all its handmaidens: jealousy, lust, marital fidelity, ardor and trust. O’Flynn, with agility, displayed all of these. Her interplay with Dean Peterson’s Figaro was completely convincing.

O’Flynn was full of charming touches: the saucy curtsy when the Count discovers it is her, not a lover, in his wife’s closet, her prompting of Figaro when the Count questions him about a letter, her demure (feigned) acquiescence to the Count’s advances.

Peterson was a fine match for the pert O’Flynn -- tall, athletic, graceful and able to move quick from smiling cockiness to bewilderment as his fortunes changed moment to moment in the battle of wits with the Count.

Peterson sang well, but his voice had a gruff quality that’s not really suited to Figaro’s character. It is perfect for Masetto, the rough peasant hot-head in “Don Giovanni.” He showed great aplomb in the opening scene when a mannikin holding the Count’s cloak and wig fell over. He picked it up, put back the dummy’s head and even gave it a pat, all the while continuing his part unfazed.

William Stone was a fine Count Almaviva, a character much like Don Giovanni confined to his house (and servants). He brought the fierceness necessary to make us believe the fear of his jealousy by the Countess, sung by Renee Fleming.

Fleming, who’s won a good many awards and seems to be on her way, evoked a mixed reaction. Her voice is creamy and she too is no wig-carrying manikin as an actress. Her third act aria “Dove sono” had a breathtaking soft section.

But at times, particularly in the “Porgi, amor” cavatina that opens Act II, Fleming tended to eat words and add so much expression to each note that the melody’s sense of direction was lost. She also had to zero in a few times on the right pitch, though her entrance in “Porgi, amor” was perfect.

The only real disappointment of the night was Cynthia Rose in the pants role of Cherubino, the hopeless adolescent wooer of older women. She blared out loud notes and struck only false ones in her stage business, often smiling inappropriately, capering awkwardly and showing none of the sensuality this role needs.

John Calvin West made his debut as Dr. Bartolo and bellowed a little in his “Vendetta” aria, but was an amusing presence. Even more so was the dried up, quavering Don Basilio of Jerold Siena, down to his sagging left sock.