... the performance is going on the narrow path, which has left free by the lines of chairs, without properties and with actors, who have been created for love.

A civilian flat. Maybe many of us still imagine the beginning of a marriage here. In homes like these, first live no more than two people: in theory, their love will keep together the future inhabitants of the big rooms. This life is built on the desired symmetry and on the most adored number two. On our desire, that we “would never leave the other one”, that “a man and a woman form a couple” and soon we will be made happier by “many little Papageno-Papagena, the cheerfulness of their parents” – as it is sang in The Magic Flute. Not accidentally, but they would desire this kind of life – always getting out of the most desired symmetry inside – in another opera by Mozart, in The Marriage of Figaro too, which original one with the same moral issues, the play by Beaumarchais is put on stage by Sándor Zsótér in a civilian flat.

That layer of The Marriage of Figaro, which is full of love intrigues, the comedy of tricks, usually treats as the outside covering layer of the play. In contrast to the political frightening, which is in the comedy, about which Vera Létay in one of her witty critic talks about parallel between Figaro’s shaver and the guillotine: “”The shaver, which was dancing on Count Almaviva’s chin in 1784, some years later slides down a little bit.” Of course, it is also true, that this very sharp rebellious nature – as we all know: this is the self-awareness of the self-made man, and many other crosstalk too, about censors and other things – all these without the real human relationships, the showing of wildly burning loves can be pure ideology. Everything, even the mechanism of humour, depends on this later one, and this one we do not miss form Sándor Zsótér’s staging, where burning replies are flying between the warm walls of the “sweet home”. Even the translation, Júlia Ungár’s work is perfect, it is fluent, and there are many witty games of words in it. To prove it and avoid the danger of spoiler, I would mention only one example here: “let’s cry AlmaVivát!”

We do not arrive in a simple civilian flat (which falls into the count’s lap, as “he was so kind to be born”, while Figaro was working hard for his own), but into an empty play, which is full of viewers. Where the performance is going on the narrow path, which has left free by the lines of chairs, without properties and with actors, who have been created for love.

Zénó Faragó (Chérubin) has huge eyes. And they are filled with real tears, when he presents to the countess his very funny and painfully felt love poem. He tells his confession to different bras mostly, but the countess seemingly has feelings towards him. It is interesting that in the libretto of the opera, there is not any doubts in connection with the virtue of the lady, while it is somehow different in the play, but it can be anyway, Judit Kovács Ligeti’s countess turns red, by the presence of Chérubin, however it does not excludes her love towards her husband. And the girls are very good, Erika Tankó is the fiery Suzanne and Mari Törőcsik (Marceline), who the director – he usually focuses his attention to some extraordinary characters – invites to a good company, into a team play with many fights with words (and during these arguments the characters usually take the position of a duel). Ákos Orosz can easily improve himself, if his tongue makes a mistake, the gestures, similar to it, can make the evening easy in mood, and funny and cheerful. As finally, all couples find their places and homes: our wish for harmony will be fulfilled, we find symmetry.

We can see all girls in wedding dresses this evening, as independently from the fact, if they have been married or not, all girls are looking for their partners in Figaro, and good to see as they can find each other.

Noémi Herczog, szinhaz.net, 2011

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)