What's the story Will Figaro’s wedding ever happen? He is due to marry Susanna, but they are caught in the middle of a domestic between their employers, the Count and Countess Almaviva. The Almavivas’ marriage is on the rocks: the Count neglects his wife, and assumes he can shag whoever he wants – including Susanna. There are other complications: Figaro rashly promised to marry Marcellina if he can’t repay a loan, even though she’s old enough to be his mother (there’s a good reason for that, as everyone is gobsmacked to discover); the horny teenager Cherubino is always underfoot; the Count may be rampantly unfaithful but he also distrusts his wife. Despite the Count’s efforts, the wedding takes place: but the Count still stalks Susanna, and it takes public exposure and the Countess’ forgiveness before everyone can be reconciled.

Why should we care? The Marriage of Figaro was the first collaboration between Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-91) and librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. They couldn’t have chosen a more incendiary subject – a comedy by Beaumarchais that had initially been banned for its political edge. But it’s also a bedroom farce. People dress up, intercept love-letters, hide and dive out the window as a jealous husband pounds on the door – all very jokey, but the danger is real. This tension makes the opera so funny and involving: in Mozart’s pauses you hold your breath to see what happens. And the emotions are real too: the countess is so depressed that she depends on fast-thinking Figaro and Susanna to sort everything out. You hope they’ll be happy together – but when Susanna briefly lets Figaro think she might sleep with the count, her new husband unleashes a disturbing misogynist rant. The Marriage of Figaro premièred in 1786, just three years before the French Revolution, and it is tempting to see the servants turning the tables on their predatory employer as an omen of deeper social shock waves. The Countess floats a sublime pardon over the misunderstandings in the last scene, but this is more a holding operation than enduring conflict resolution. Forgiveness briefly seems to stop time, but will this shimmering moment last?

What does it sound like? A busy overture opens the door on an opera full of complicated plotting and double-crossing. The agile crackle of intrigue only highlights the countess’ introspective arias. Gentle woodwind accompaniment tries to soothe her – she’s comfort singing. Her voice also entwines almost indistinguishably with Susanna’s – she's far less of a vicious snob than her husband, who seems to travel with his own assertive brass band. He shouldn’t mess with Figaro, whose arias carry knuckle-dusters under surface good humour. His deliberately casual melody discusses getting even with ‘signor Contino’ (‘little Count’), and he proposes packing Cherubino off to war in the bouncy ‘Non più andrai.’ However, when he thinks Susanna has betrayed him he sounds desperate, pushing his voice to its edges – the quick thinker is suddenly floundering. As well as individual characters, Mozart holds plot and ensemble in an astonishingly rich structure: act two is like a game in which crisis after crisis bursts in, while the final scene unites everyone in beautiful peace – for a time, at least.

Other stuff The Marriage of Figaro was recently voted Britain’s favourite opera. Beaumarchais’ original comedy was the second in his trilogy about Figaro. In the final play, set after the French Revolution, the Countess has had an illegitimate child with Cherubino. As well as a playwright, Beaumarchais worked as a spy, gun-runner, spy and diplomat. Oh, and as a clockmaker. Mozart was a child prodigy, whose father trotted him round the courts of Europe. He had composed three operas by the time he was twelve. Lorenzo da Ponte, who wrote the libretto to Figaro, had a bumpy career. He trained for the priesthood, was friends with Casanova, and ended up in America, working as a grocer and then as an Italian teacher. Beaumarchais’ play was politically explosive; da Ponte had to beg the Austrian Emperor for permission to adapt it. Mozart cheekily quotes Figaro’s aria ‘Non più andrai’ in the final scene of his Don Giovanni: the characters aren’t impressed.

Exploring further - links The Figaro Plays by Beaumarchais, translated by John Wells (JM Dent). The original comedy on which Mozart based his opera. Le nozze di Figaro, edited by Tim Carter (Cambridge Opera Handbook). A guide to the opera’s music, context and history. The Marriage of Figaro/Le nozze di Figaro (ENO Opera Guide). Background articles, plus the libretto.