L'Elisir d'Amore

4 / 5 stars

The first night of Glyndebourne's revival of Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore will doubtless be best remembered for its cast change. In what was presented, rightly or wrongly, as a bit of a nail-biting drama, Spanish soprano Ainhoa Garmendia flew in that morning to replace the indisposed Ekaterina Siurina as Adina, and in the process caused something of a sensation. Her Glyndebourne debut, as Despina in Così Fan Tutte in 2006, was unmemorable, and one expected something awkward and routine. Donizetti, however, suits her infinitely better than Mozart. Her singing had great glamour and dexterity. Dramatically, she was entirely credible as an affectionate yet manipulative woman caught up in her own games. And she didn't look out of place in Annabel Arden's thoughtful, if imperfect, staging.

Arden's major achievement is to take the work seriously, in contrast to most directors who treat it as flippant caricature. She updates the opera to the 1950s and adds a gloss about the urbanisation of rural communities.

Nemorino (Peter Auty, gauchely charming in denim dungarees) has a job as an electrician and is installing a street light outside the crumbling 18th-century building that serves Adina as a farm.

Arden is wonderful in her observation of the gossipy intricacies of village life, and even better at the erotic chaos caused by the arrival of Belcore (Alfredo Daza) and his soldiers, though she occasionally softens Donizetti's scathing portrait of a society that deems people sexy if they have money, and unattractive if they don't. But more problematic is her treatment of Dulcamara (Luciano di Pasquale) whom she presents not so much as a quack doctor, but as a dandified magician whose charlatanry has the power to bring genuine magic into people's lives. She also provides him with a silent Marcel Marceau-ish assistant (James Bellorini) – unfortunately, the character is lost beneath the combination of symbolism and mime. And Di Pasquale's singing is on the solemn side, which doesn't always help matters.

Musically, however, the rest of it is wonderful. Auty, his voice dark and burnished, is naively endearing, and breaks your heart with Adina Credimi and Una Furtiva Lagrima. Daza gets Beclore's attractive, if coarse sensuality absolutely right. And Maurizio Benini's beautiful conducting adds to his growing reputation as an interpreter of choice in the 19th-century Italian repertoire. Until 29 August. Box office: 01273-813813.