If I could bottle up an emotion and relive it for eternity, it would be Wednesday’s visit to Glyndebourne. I had lived in anticipation of this moment ever since a fellow hiker on my trip to the Dolomites told me of the festival’s existence and I later watched a stream of the 2012 Glyndebourne production of The Marriage of Figaro during the pandemic.
Anticipation did not dull the experience in the slightest. I did feel a pang of disappointment when I realised the staging was identical to the 2012 version, but I soon lost myself in the magic of Hera Hyesang Park’s clear soprano. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how different elements stand out in different performances?
In the 2012 recording, I was besotted with Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino. Neither the Cherubino from this year’s Royal Opera House production nor the Cherubino from this year’s Glyndebourne could hold a candle to her. In fact, it almost added insult to injury that Ida Ränzlöv’s interpretation portrayed Cherubino as vulgar instead of cheeky. Though I cannot fault her voice, which was beautiful.
The sleazy Count Almaviva is, understandably, my least favourite character. That being said, there has been a consistently high calibre of singers in the role, with Mexican baritone Germán Olvera in the 2022 Glyndebourne production giving a stunning performance. Disappointingly, Brandon Cedel’s Figaro himself was forgettable – though I enjoyed his singing, Cedel lacked stage presence.
As disparaging as I may sound in my critique, the opera – not to mention the experience of attending Glyndebourne – was still mind blowing. I felt like I was in a dream. The flowing dresses and sharp tuxedos, the stunning architecture and perfectly manicured grounds – it felt as if we were transported onto the set of a film about the British aristocracy. I can definitely see a visit to Glyndebourne becoming an annual tradition.
Le nozzi di Figaro ends tomorrow, but the Glyndebourne festival runs until 28 August.
Swordfoosh 
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