Pierre Beaumarchais' "Figaro trilogy" caused quite a stir back in the late 1700s. These sassy plays - "The Barber of Seville," "The Marriage of Figaro" and "The Guilty Mother" - were banned in Paris for some time for their mockery of the aristocracy and lauding of the commoner. The trilogy's hero, Figaro, perpetually struggles for his rights, intellect and, of course, women, all while humorously dealing with the changing times, ridiculous plot twists and his less-than-glamorous background.
In its newest production, simply titled "Figaro," the American Repertory Theatre (ART) continues its trend of fusion theater by combining Beaumarchais' "The Guilty Mother" (the last play of the trilogy, set during the French Revolution) with Mozart's version of "Marriage" in a flashback-fueled hybrid of story, genre and even language. In this show, characters talk to each other in English during the speaking scenes and spontaneously burst into Italian arias as they travel back into their youth, aided by a video screen and some sophisticated staging.
"Figaro" starts off as a surprisingly cheeky farce with roguish political commentary, crispy arias and ensemble pieces, and it somehow even manages to include droll jabs at President George W. Bush and the arts section of the Boston Globe. By act two, however, the show loses itself in its own storyline as it takes on an exceedingly forced taste.
In act one, we learn of the complex relationship that drives the series. Everything rests on the interaction between Figaro and his boss, Count Almaviva. Despite his intelligence, shrewdness and passion, Figaro remains a servant to his master; both depend on the other's adversity to keep grounded.
Act one has its lighter moments, however, as we learn the plot of "The Marriage of Figaro" through flashback. Standout scenes include the protagonist's upcoming nuptials to Susanna, Almaviva's sleazy plots to nab her before Fig does, Almaviva's wife's scheming, and the lustiness of the young page, Cherubino.
The second act, however, attempts to reconcile the humor of the first with an oddly sudden aura of darkness. It's post-revolution now, and both Count and Figaro are separated from their lovers; secrets come out and gloom seeps into what was a snappy social satire too fast to make the characters' emotions believable.
What greater, darker themes Beaumarchais may have attempted to squeeze into the last play of his trilogy, ART pumps up and squishes into the latter part. It takes the viewer aback, failing to add believable multidimensionality to the characters that moments earlier we thought to be comical. Act two tried to do too much with too little time.
Doubling as director and actor, Dominique Serrand was hugely entertaining in the first act as the quixotic elder Count. Even while stripped of his title and fortune, he keeps his effortless snooty delusion and manages to order Figaro around shamelessly. From the delightful French accent to sardonic mannerisms, Serrand is a force to reckon with, despite his peculiar growling spells later in the show.
Brian Boyce's refreshing musical performance as Young Figaro is also succinct and skillfully carried out. Unlike the other characters, his role is almost entirely sung. Boyce's velvety baritone maintains a delicate inflection and solid phrasing throughout his the production.
Overall, the cast's chemistry is on point, with the cast performing well in ensemble roles. The acting and singing is solid, although Susanna (Momoko Tanno), Figaro's beloved, leaves some feeling to be desired. Standout numbers included the pretty act two duet between pert Casanova-wannabe Cherubino (Christina Baldwin) and the clever Rosina (Jennifer Baldwin Peden), the Young Count's (Bradley Greenwald) jealous outbreaks and shameless advances, and most scenes involving either and/or both of the Figaros.
Indeed, Figaro the elder - or simply "Fig," as he is called numerous times by his adversary, the Count - is truly humanized by Steven Epp. Epp gives the character an ironic and at times tragic nature, making him one of the few cast members who manages to remain believable and stay true to the farcical moments of the show. Yet as much as he shines in the first act, the second gives him less to work with.
"Fate always gets in the way of my destiny," laments Count Almaviva in act two, and such is the case with this production. Though fresh and innovative - and, like most ART productions, excellently acted - "Figaro" falls victim to the excesses of its own inspiration.
