Don Giovanni – review

Most directors make an impression by thinking big: Alessandro Talevi creates quite an impact through thinking small. Much of the significant action of his Opera North production is contained within a rectangular window, whose red flock curtains part to reveal a mini-Don brutalising his victims in a fashion at once violent, erratic and misogynistic. It requires only a policemen, a crocodile and a string of sausages to complete the effect of a full Punch and Judy show.

The concept works less through the slightly pat suggestion that the characters may be puppets of destiny than the manner in which Talevi brings out the work's vaudevillian side. The interplay between William Dazeley's Don Giovanni and Alastair Miles's Leporello – all rictus grins and synchronised swinging of canes – has the fluency of a music-hall double act. It even helps to explain the paradox of an opera whose title character dictates the action but has no proper aria to sing – Talevi presents a ventriloquist who prefers to leave the talking to his dummy.

Vocally, they are a fine match: Dazeley's voice sharp and hard, Miles's a little more rugged, like a rough diamond and its polished equivalent. Madeleine Boyd's design incorporates an eclectic mix of eras – it's not immediately apparent why Masetto's gang should be Teddy Boys or Elizabeth Atherton's sparky Elvira dressed like Madonna circa Desperately Seeking Susan. But there's sweet tone and a clear line from Meeta Raval's Donna Anna, buttoned up in Victorian mourning weeds, and a racy performance from Claire Wild as a bobby-socked Zerlina.

The Opera North orchestra plays thrillingly for Tobias Ringborg, who opts for tempos that feel sinister rather than sluggish. The capricious nature of the action can be difficult to follow, but Talevi's zany staging is like being walloped into submission with a big stick. As Mr Punch would say: that's the way to do it.