Is The Cunning Little Vixen the most joyous of operas? Opera North has revived Sir David Pountney’s production of Janáček’s opera based on Rudolf Těsnohlídek’s stories and Stanislav Lolek’s cartoons, and it puts a smile on the face of the audience.

This production has been around since 1980 and has not aged a bit. The costumes of the forest creatures are neither twee nor symbolic; who could not love the Caterpillar. The obvious strength of the Dragonfly dancer belies the delicacy of the creature portrayed, and his death dance would upstage a swan. The Hare is enchanting.

Sir David, quoted in the programme notes, is right to describe the work as a Gesamtkunstwerk; there is mime and ballet and the principals need to be so much more than singers. James Rutherford, as the Forester, perhaps has it easiest, and he sings with a heartiness and expansiveness which is at odds with his moroseness in the inn. Mind you, would it be good manners to be cheery in the company of the Schoolmaster and the Parson? It cannot be easy to sing when as taut and uptight as Paul Nilon’s Schoolmaster, and his drunken snow angel on the way home is an endearing glimpse of what is repressed. The Parson, about to move to a new parish, has his own demons; his soliloquy on an incident in his past is ambiguous - is he innocent and maligned, or not? The Poacher, Callum Thorpe, maintains a symbiotic relationship with the Forester.

And then there is the Vixen, Sharp Ears. Elin Pritchard has to be physically as well as vocally agile as she attempts to escape from the Forester’s custody and as she scampers through the forest. She easily fends off the Dog – James Davies is wonderful as the elderly animal, whose body has shrunk but whose skin has not. The Forester’s children are not so easy, however, although the execution of the Hens is clinical.

It is worth remembering that this opera is a century old, written when socialism was more fashionable than it may be now, which perhaps explains the rather vindictive eviction of the Badger from his sett; surely, if the sett is too big for a solitary Badger, it is also too big for a solitary Vixen. Equally, her feminism is rather selective, but we are so entranced by Sharp Ears’ vitality and quick wit that she gets away with it.

In due course, she meets Fox – Heather Lowe is delightful as a young, laddish, dog fox attracted for the first time to a young Vixen.  Their courtship leads inevitably to more cubs than the Vixen or Fox can keep track of – the audience counts eight. Equally, time has passed for the humans, and ultimately the Poacher gets Sharp Ears for a muff to give his bride.

The rolling forest floor splits at the front to form the buildings of humans, giving them a sett-like feel. There are fireflies in the evening sky, and the orchestra, conducted by Andrew Gourlay, conjures up all the sounds of the forest embedded in Janáček’s score.