Il Barbiere di Siviglia

After several months of withdrawal symptoms, Opera Australia has returned to Sydney, and Tuesday night saw the opening of the Winter Season with Leon Krasenstein's brightly coloured and cartoonish production of Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia.

Amidst an extravagant set inspired by Gaudi — though apparently realised by Disney — Krasenstein has shifted the action of the opera to a 1930s spa. Doctor Bartolo actually works as a doctor, Berta as a quasi-nurse, and there's even a clutch of mute guests thrown in for good measure — among them a pair of ornamental toreadors and a wildy moustachioed Salvador Dali. Visually the new setting is an appealing one and it has its share of comic charm. In terms of plot, however, the move seems both unnecessary and, at times, obstructive. Exchanges between Rosina and Almaviva which should take place outside are now happening indoors, with the Count halfway up the stairs and Rosina at the top. It's hard to see why they don't elope then and there — the usual locks and bolts preventing their elopement have disappeared and Rosina seems pretty easily accessible. Parts of the set seem to alternate between being outside and in, so that we have Figaro and Almaviva propping a ladder against a wall despite being about two feet from the internal staircase. Obviously there's a need for suspension of disbelief and all that but I can't help wondering whether a happy compromise might have been reached — keep the wacky Gaudi-esque aesthetic and the 1930s setting, but use them to create a slightly more conventional (and logical) arena for the action.

Barbiere is an opera which offers up three potential protagonists. Since every intrigue turns about her — and since she's the (mezzo) soprano — it can, if so desired, be Rosina's opera. It can also be the Count's; after all, it premiered under the title Almaviva. Or it can be, just as the title suggests, an opera about Seville's most indispensable barber. It's a question of casting and of directorial vision — and in this case there's not a shadow of a doubt that Figaro is our star. José Carbo is thoroughly in his element here. Both his comic timing and his bel canto technique are effortlessly idiomatic and quite irresistible. He glides through Figaro's coloratura with rich and ringing tone and exudes such charm you'd suspect he really was born Raffaello. Certainly he was born for this role — it's obvious how completely at ease he is when he starts throwing a bit of fancy footwork in to complement the fastest passage of "Largo al factotum". Evidently nothing in this role presents a challenge for José — it's a perfect match and a total success.

Amelia Farrugia turns in a very creditable performance as Rosina. This is her debut in the role and no doubt there is improvement to come, but even on her first night there was much to admire — she sounded far better last night than the last time I heard her live (as Manon in 2005) and certainly has improved since her recital disc Joie de vivre. Her upper register was brighter and more cleanly focused than I expected, her coloratura exactly as showy and silvery as it needed to be. Her ornamentation in "Una voce poco fa" was impressive if occasionally slightly wayward; but by the time of Rosina's singing lesson she was more settled and tossed off the interpolated Proch variations with style and shimmer. There's perhaps a tendency to squeeze the highest notes just a little but it does little to detract from the undeniable prettiness of her sound. My concern, though, is that she has lavished all possible care and attention upon the top end of her voice and neglected the rest. On Tuesday her lower register sounded breathy and artificial — the recitative in particular was delivered in a mannered quasi Sprechstimme and could stand to sound a whole lot more tuneful. Onstage she's an energetic and self-assured presence. Personally I found her Rosina wholly unsympathetic, a manipulative and superficial brat, but that's just a matter of taste — like her or not, it's certainly a vivid characterisation.

As a roly-poly, happy go lucky Count Almaviva, Henry Choo is quite charming but ultimately miscast. His smooth, honeyed tenor is a gorgeous sound but it's not suited to the rapid-fire demands of Rossini and as a result he comes off sounding weaker than he really is. He sounds like a Don Ottavio who has wandered into the wrong opera — quite lovely, but out of place. The contrast with Kanen Breen's darker, more solid sound will prove telling, I suspect, when Breen takes over the role in August. Warwick Fyfe was to have been our Don Bartolo but proved indisposed — the role was taken over at (presumably) short notice and with great aplomb by Andrew Moran, in what appears to be only his third Opera Australia role. Don Basilio was my compatriot Conal Coad, in his usual fine form, done up to look repulsively Rasputinesque and pulling out all his buffo basso tricks — "La calunnia" was a comical whirlwind. Lovely, too, to see Rosemary Gunn as Berta. I'd previously only ever seen her on DVD as Cornelia in Giulio Cesare — the thirteen years since that production have apparently done little to alter her voice and it was nice that Berta was given her aria to sing.

Our maestro was, of course, Richard Bonynge. If there's anybody I'm willing to trust with bel canto, it's him. He managed to pull off that overture without turning it into musical caricature and despite the odd mishap in the pit, he had the AOBO sounding warm and vibrant all evening. He seems to have aimed not so much for rollicking farce as for commedia dell'arte panache, and I think that approach, while it mightn't have audiences bouncing up and down in their seats in rhythm, nevertheless has a definite appeal. Bonynge's tempi mightn't be the speediest but the evening flies by pleasurably just the same.