Henry Goodman has now taken over as the Duke of Plaza-Toro in English National Opera's revival of Gilbert and Sullivan's last great hit. With his proudly erect Salvador Dalí whiskers and fiercely articulated Spanish accent, he looks and sounds like a preening Castilian hidalgo. But, though he brings to the role his customary attack, Goodman cannot disguise the fact that the Duke is one of Gilbert's lesser comic creations.
The chief pleasure in Martin Duncan's revival lies in the youthfulness of the central quartet of gondoliers and contadine. I first saw this opera in the old touring D'Oyly Carte version where, as the young Kenneth Tynan cruelly said: "It was sung by a large number of fat people, most of them of determinate age." Here, Sarah Tynan (Gianetta) and Stephanie Marshall (Tessa), in their 1950s primary-coloured print frocks suggesting an old Doris Day movie, both look and sound ravishing. Toby Stafford-Allen (Giuseppe) and David Curry (Marco) are equally dashing as their Venetian wooers.
The fact that Curry and Marshall hail from Canada reminds me that the best recent versions of Gilbert and Sullivan have emerged from that country: Brian MacDonald, in his Stratford, Ontario versions of The Gondoliers and The Mikado, released the Dionysiac spirit of the dance that animates Sullivan's scores. It is precisely that quality I find missing in Duncan's production. The great second-act Cachuca never flares into erotic ecstasy, and in the finale of the first act, the singers essay a few tentative steps when you want them to let rip. Admittedly, the choreographer, Jonathan Lunn, is handicapped by a set in which the stage is segmented by Venetian canals. But I longed to see what Matthew Bourne, whose choreography is always driven by sex, would bring to Sullivan's airborne melodies.
We are left with a production that is well sung and deftly conducted by Richard Balcombe, but rarely rises above well-ordered prettiness. Donald Maxwell invests Don Alhambra with a saturnine lasciviousness, and Rebecca Bottone is a regally attractive Casilda. There's a nice touch when the baby-swapping Inez enters on crutches, like the Grand Inquisitor in Don Carlos.
Ultimately, Duncan's production, originally seen in Chichester three years ago, conveys all the charm of this mild satire on egalitarianism but little of the sexual exuberance at the heart of Sullivan's pulsating score.
· In rep until March 31. Box office: 0870 145 0200.
