Director William Theisen works very hard to keep the eye busy, and he succeeds through bustling activity and continuity devices such as Figaro’s and Rosina’s chess game in Act 1, which provides a sort of running gag through the scene. Much of the comedy of Barber grows from the effervescent music itself, and William and his cast have added to that with plenty of playful physical gestures which at times border on the hammy. Some are quite funny, as when Rosina, discovering that Lindoro is actually the Count, turns to the audience with her mouth frozen in an “O” like Lucy Ricardo. Others suffer by repetition: Generally one can do a funny move three times, but after that it begins to lose its punch. At the center of the quirky hijinks was Kevin Burdette as a dandified Bartolo, whom he played with what seemed like a mixture of Nathan Lane, Buster Keaton, Groucho, and I’m not sure what else. During the larger ensembles there was so much going on that the eye was darting about continually, to mostly whimsical effect. The Act 1 finale was a combination of freeze-frames and slow-motion tussle, the latter having become a sort of fashion lately for this scene. This was one instance in which physical humor seems to have trumped the vocalism, as the singers could often barely be heard over the orchestra, and the ensemble among the singers and between singers and orchestra became scattered.

Sandra Piques Eddy brought her beautiful mezzo-soprano to the role of Rosina: It has a rich, plumy lower register and vibrancy throughout. She was ever the saucy ward, taunting Bartolo and flirting with Lindoro; yet at times it felt that this sort of comedy did not come as naturally to her as, say, the earthy torchiness that made her Carmen last season so memorable. Brian was a heroic Count, walking a careful line between wit and a nobleman’s poise. His voice has a pleasing midrange but sometimes grows pinched at the top, and it’s not always as nimble in rapid passages as one might hope. Kevin displayed a warm, lovely bass as Bartolo, when he wasn’t toying with its timbre for comic effect. Arthur Woodley’s rich, oaken bass was perfect for Basilio, and he assumed well the character’s sort of affected sophistication. Holly White was a jovial Berta, and Brad Walker sang the small role of Fiorello with a warm bass-baritone that we’d like to hear more of. But it was Joshua Hopkins in the title role who virtually stole the show. His world-class baritone is simply a delight to listen to: mellow and crisp, naturally supported, and well-outfitted in its whole range. He was a confident presence onstage who avoided buffoonery and yet always made it clear that Figaro was, in fact, in control of everything.

Ward Holmquist conducted the Kansas City Symphony in a musically astute rendering of the score, despite ensemble issues with the singers. The chunk-chunk-chunk-chunk of the strings in the Overture had a dynamism that set the tone for the evening, and the Muriel Kauffman Theatre provided an ideal acoustic.