Comic pathos marks Jeune Lune’s Figaro

by Ed Felien

In his continuing deconstruction of Mozart, Dominique Serrand presents us with an astonishing “Figaro.”

Previously, we saw Don Giovanni making out in the back seat of a car; “The Magic Flute” (very correctly I thought) adapted as a beer hall farce; and “Cosi fan Tutte” given a serious anti-war edge that transformed an otherwise harmless bagatelle into a poignant portrait of despair.

Now, Serrand, with the collaborative help of Steve Epp, has given a historic context to Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro.” Using all three of Beaumarchais’s plays about Figaro, Serrand and Epp begin their story at the end, in Paris in the year 1792, and Mozart’s adaptation of Beaumarchais’s second play becomes a flashback.

The contrast is horrific. The bright hope and promise of revolution in Mozart’s playful overthrowing of the Count’s intentions has become a bleak and desolate landscape. The world has become more like that of “The Duchess of Malfi” or “Tis a Pity She’s a Whore,” the Jacobean tragedies where the moral compass has been lost, than the sunny confidence of the Age of Reason and the last part of the Eighteenth Century.

But, even more than that, Steve Epp has added dialogue and situations that make the characters seem part of theater of the absurd. Steve Epp as Fig and Barbara Berlovitz as Suzanne thrash about on stage like characters out of “Waiting for Godot” or “Happy Days.”

The action begins with Epp pulling a large cabinet around the stage. On the screen behind him we see the action in video with a background of train tracks added. From this point on all the action on stage will simultaneously be retold in a real time video with an exotic background, an additional perspective from which to view the action.

Inside the cabinet is Dominique Serrand as the Count, now, after the revolution, Mr. Almaviva. He is arrogant, petulant and unable to accept the changes from the ancien regime.

Soon, their dialogue brings back memories of the day of Figaro’s wedding, and the characters from Mozart’s opera step into this play. They are oblivious to the middle-aged representations of themselves, but Epp and Berlovitz lovingly remember and move like shadows to their earlier selves.

Epp and Berlovitz keep repeating Dickens’ line from “Tale of Two Cities,” “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” But, they conclude, it is mostly the worst of times.

Figaro wanted the revolution. He wanted to destroy the aristocracy, but when it was destroyed he lost his identity. He lost the meaning to his life. He drags the Count around in the cabinet, like some baggage he cannot leave behind. Sometime he rails and screams at him, forces him to get his slippers, and sometimes he rolls over like a dog to please him. It is horrible. He cannot escape.

So much blood was spilt. At first the guillotine devoured the aristocracy, then, it hungrily devoured its own until there was such chaos and desolation, Napoleon would later reassert order at the price of naming himself emperor.

Now we see the horror behind the beautiful music of Mozart’s opera. Now we understand that, although Mozart was criticizing the aristocracy for not recognizing the humanity of their servants, he was not asking them to be led to the guillotine. He was not asking for the music to stop, for the dance to end.

Dominique Serrand co-conceived the project, directed the play and performs the lead. In all efforts, but especially acting Mr. Almaviva, he was brilliant. Probably the best comic actor in the Twin Cities, he does not play Almaviva for laughs, but for pathos. His condition now is tragic. It is not funny.

On the other hand, he directs his alter-ego, Bradley Greenwald as Mozart’s Count Almaviva, in a comic romp. We enjoy seeing the Count made to look the fool. We thrill to his comic rages, and we love to hate his oily unctuousness. Greenwald is wonderful as the Count, but Serrand’s direction of him to contrast with his own performance is a masterful presentation of control.

Momoko Tanno brings a strong and tender sensibility to her performance of Susanna. Charles Schwandt is marvelously virile and a perfect Figaro. Jennifer Baldwin Peden as the Countess is unforgettable when she laments her love on a gondola made to rock on the waves by the unfeeling hand of the Count, and Christina Baldwin is an absolute delight in her performance of Cherubino. The orchestra was flawless and perfectly accompanied the singing and the action.

It is almost embarrassing to gush so unashamedly about the beauty of the music, the brilliant conception of the piece, the masterful performances of the actors and singers, and the sure hand of the director that takes us from joy and ecstasy to a final conflagration that consumes all hope.

Figaro runs through June 29 at Theatre de la Jeune Lune, 105 North 1st Street. Call 612-333-6200 for more information.