Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro)
by Kelley Rourke
Le nozze di Figaro keeps regular company with the bloodier operas usually found on the operatic "Top 10" and, next to favorites like Tosca and Rigoletto, it seems like a sweet---even bland---throwback. But this work, the combined effort of a revolutionary, a rake, and a rascally genius, contains some pointed social commentary---not to mention virtually perfect musical characterizations and groundbreaking use of the ensemble.
In 1784, the playwright Beaumarchais penned La Folle journée ou Le Mariage de Figaro , a sequel to his successful Le Barbier de Séville (later set to music by Rossini and Paisiello). The play, with its pointed barbs at the ruling class, caused an uproar, predictably exciting the people and infuriating the nobles.
Although the play was banned from the Viennese stage, Mozart and his librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte, recognized a good story when they found one and were not the types to shrink from controversy. (They were also clever enough to fashion a libretto that could pass muster with the censors.) Da Ponte, the well-read, social-climbing son of a tanner, wrote numerous libretti for Mozart, Salieri, Soler, and other contemporary composers. He also left memoirs, poems, numerous translations, and assorted prose. If his memoirs are to be believed, his prodigious verbal output was matched only by his romantic conquests, but most remember him chiefly for the three libretti he provided for Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro, Cosî fan tutte, and Don Giovanni.
Le nozze di Figaro was Mozart and Da Ponte's first operatic collaboration. Mozart began work on the music in 1785; the opera had its premiere in Vienna the following year. Its treasures are many, beginning with arias reflecting the many facets of love: Cherubino's eager adolescent yearning, the Countess's bittersweet recollection of a love lately lost, and finally Susanna's seductive invitation, "Deh vieni," which manages to be both archly teasing and sweetly sincere. Other sketches are equally deft, from jealous Figaro's malicious minuet, "Se vuol ballare," to silly Barbarina's mock-tragic lament over a lost pin. (Mozart also composed two brilliant musical parodies in fourth-act star turns for Marcellina and Basilio; however, these are often cut on the grounds that they slow the movement toward the denouement.) For all the glories in the procession of arias, the real magic lies in the ensembles. Figaro's plot is a maze of misunderstandings, disguises, and machinations; Mozart neatly untangles the knots (or further confuses things, when appropriate), all the while weaving together several voices, each with perfect musical-emotional pitch.
Le nozze di Figaro was apparently well-received from the start; the emperor saw the need to ban excessive encores during performance. Before the end of the eighteenth century, it had been seen in Florence, Amsterdam, and Paris, as well as Prague, Leipzig, Graz, and Frankfurt. To this day, it remains a favorite among opera lovers worldwide.
