February may be over (as is the Ides of March and Easter too), but romance is still in the (Arctic!) air for Vanessa Threapleton-Horrocks, who left London behind for the heady heights of the Big Apple in order to bring Lusso readers the next operatic review in the series, (in what is fast becoming a global cultural mission!), direct from the stalls at the Met…

It is definitely a luxury bordering on gleeful extravagance to arrange a long weekend in New York for a trip (literally!) to the opera. It hints of a dreamy jet-set romance…

Indeed, the New York populace has a long-standing, profoundly-patriotic relationship with its world-renowned opera house, The Met, which opened in its modern incarnation as part of the Lincoln Centre for Performing Arts in September 1966. The Met, together with two other New York cultural institutions, now offer New Yorkers, just a stone’s throw away from the polished shopping Mecca of Fifth Avenue, the quintessence of organised culture in one elegant location. Choose between a New York Philharmonic orchestral concert, a New York State ballet performance, or a world-class Met Opera production, all within an arm’s length of each other – where else in the world can one receive a satisfying surfeit of high art virtually all at once?

Despite being outgrown, the old opera house of pre-1966 fame, which was founded in 1883 on 39th Street, nevertheless held court to some of the greatest names in music history, including conducting tenureships by Toscanini and Gustav Mahler no less. With its undeniably stylish tradition and first-rate musical patronage, the ‘new’ Metropolitan Opera has enhanced its rich heritage by incorporating a storehouse of the finest technical facilities to support its impressive production remit – it comes as no great surprise then that the biggest stars of the opera world line up to pay homage to the Met’s might, year in, year out. A mind-boggling 200 opera performances are staged by the Met each season, with more than 800,000 people eagerly gathering inside the golden-hued 3995-capacity auditorium to witness the magic on stage for themselves.

Gioacchino Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia, or The Barber of Seville, has the novel honour of being the very first opera to be performed in Italian on the American stage (Park Theatre, New York, 1825). It remains the oldest opera by an Italian composer to be performed continuously in the public repertoire since its inception, notwithstanding that The Barber of Seville is now generally regarded as the greatest comic opera of all time.

So, how did this come about? In December 1815, the 24-year-old rising star of the Italian operatic opus signed a contract to compose an opera to conclude the imminent carnival season for Rome ’s Teatro Argentina. Legend has it that Rossini wrote this latest commission in just under two weeks after his librettist, Cesare Sterbini, selected the text, the first of the Figaro trilogy by dramatist and revolutionary, Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. Even by the standards of an effortlessly productive talent, there is nevertheless evidence that the Teatro constantly bullied poor Rossini to get the opera finished on time, resulting in him having to revise an overture he had already used twice before from earlier-conceived operas. The original title chosen was Almaviva ossia L'inutile precauzione or The Useless Precaution, as a respectful nod to a prior composition of the opera, also titled The Barber of Seville, by Giovanni Paisiello, who had cheerfully given his blessing to the younger composer to create a new edition of the Barber playing Cupid for the Count and gamely outwitting an older suitor, naively believing that Rossini would not be able to produce anything remotely more successful.

But the result was comic fireworks and a pulsating rhythmic force, which drove forward the popularity of Rossini’s comic masterpiece (quickly installed with the title we know so well today after Paisiello's death), cementing the composer’s place at the forefront of the public consciousness as opera buffo composer du jour. Following an overture of pure melodic energy, the next forty minutes of performance-time is pleasingly punctuated by some of the most popular and memorable moments of opera ever written, including the famous swaggering introduction to the figure of manly virility himself, Figaro, in his Act I aria “Largo al factotum” where we are at once introduced to one of Rossini’s favourite musical devices – the “Rossini crescendo”. Here, the titular barber commences his patter song of assault-course singing acrobatics, where lyrics and notes are executed with astounding speed and tongue-twisting skill; and such is the pace that Figaro gives up words at one stage for a string of la-la-la’s whilst the momentum continues to build up to breaking point…the orchestra suddenly ceases its supporting role leaving the barber to continue to sing “Figaro, Figaro, Figaro…” alone.

However, the opening night of The Barber of Seville in 1816 was not the all-out success one might have expected. Aside from attempting to evade the boo’s and catcalls from staunch Paisiello supporters, the performance almost descended into chaotic parody territory, with one performer singing with a bleeding nose after tripping on a trapdoor and two cats hissing in the background during the finale to the first act. No wonder Rossini was reported to have rushed through the premiere night of his new opera in order to immerse himself in the satisfying retelling of an exotic salad dish that had captured his tastebuds and has since been known as an Ensalad alla Rossini! Leaving aside the first-night accidental stage histrionics, the opera turned into a hit within a week. Clearly Rossini had a voracious appetite for life, music and good food and this is faithfully reflected in his comedy operas. Moreover, his helter-skelter ensembles and vivacious soloists make for an action-packed, roller-coaster ride for his audience encapsulating the singer, Lesley Garrett’s, words: “opera singing is an extreme sport”.

As an eager spectator, I was expecting similar adrenaline in The Met’s 2008 revival of last season’s hit production of The Barber of Seville by Tony Award-winning director, Bartlett Shar. As I hastily unravelled the layers of winter clothing necessary for the snowy, sub-zero temperatures outside, I relaxed into my seat in the stalls with a prime view of the stage and orchestral pit, elegantly encased in a decadent yet minimalist auditorium, of which only New York gloss can create. It is at about this time before the famous overture began in dimmed light and the ascent of the modish, Chihuly-esque Viennese crystal chandeliers (a striking cue to the audience that the performance is about to commence) that I cast my mind as to what scenic thrills the current director has prepared for the latest incarnation of this comic jewel.

One visible new feature in evidence for this production was the construction of a passarelle, or walkway, which connected the stage to the audience stalls by circling the rim of the orchestra pit and thus creating more intimacy between characters and the buoyant and interactive New York audience. This was manipulated to great effect by all the main characters who populated the extended area as often as stage choreography allowed.

When the elegant golden-drapes lifted to reveal complimentary shades of terracotta, evoking the rustic, dusky setting of operatic favourite, Seville, it became immediately obvious that the effects of this production were not going to depend upon sumptuous décor, but more on the vibrant singers’ sense of timing, acute characterisation, a satisfying (and breathless!) execution of Rossini’s complex score and just the space to play itself out. Thus Michael Yeargan’s set design manipulated multiple double doors that were set up in various contortions and configurations (later displaced in neat symmetry by the ever-present orange trees) throughout the performance, allowing players to suddenly appear and rush to disappear, as the plot dictated. The simplicity of the backdrop worked to the advantage of Catherine Zuber’s gloriously decadent rococo costumes, which shimmered against Christopher Akerlind’s lighting, whilst French conductor, Frederic Chaslin, resident conductor of the Vienna State Opera, concocted enough rhythm and sparkle for a Rossini comic romance from the orchestral support below-stage.

This production presented two new Met debutantes to the singers’ pantheon. Latvian mezzo-soprano, Elina Garanca, brought a welcome taste of international class to proceedings and has established a firm reputation as a bel canto specialist (think Bellini and Donizetti, as well as Rossini). Elina has already performed the role of Rosina to great plaudits at the Vienna State Opera House and so amply fitted the requirements of a kittenish young woman with the touch of a diva about her. The Spanish tenor, Jose Manuel Zapata, also specializes in bel canto roles having sung leading roles throughout his native Spain as well as at the prestigious Rossini Festival in Italy, meaning he was right at home as the dark and brooding Count Almaviva, displaying the correct balance of pomp, presence and patience. This leaves a perfectly cast Franco Vassallo, a handsome Italian baritone, as the personable, dapper yet subversive force of Figaro and the Italian bass-baritone, Maurizio Muraro, as the ridiculously comic old suitor, Dr Bartolo. Vassallo’s Figaro spurred the rest of the cast on with his antics, hamming up the on-stage events to great effect, and on their final performance day, the company were only too happy to ham it up with him, releasing extra asides, funny facial remarks and an all-round joviality, to the audience’s intense delight, rarely encountered in the more traditional opera houses I have been fortunate enough to visit. Altogether this stage-managed romance by the inimitable Figaro satisfied my need for a Big Apple jet-set visit, although I will perhaps delay my return to New York’s fabulous operatic institution until the steamy signs of summer, so I can once again bask in the romance of a slick and accessible opera, or what Dr Johnson calls an “exotic and irrational entertainment”!

All photography by Marty Sohl/METROPOLITAN OPERA