Scottish Opera�s solution to the challenge it faced in deciding to stage Lehar�s operetta, The Merry Widow, in one of its small-scale touring productions, is ingenious but irritating.

The Merry Widow, Eastwood Park Theatre, Giffnock
Star rating ***

Scottish Opera's solution to the challenge it faced in deciding to stage Lehar's operetta, The Merry Widow, in one of its small-scale touring productions, is ingenious but irritating.

The nature of the challenge is precise and needs to be outlined. By definition, the company's touring policy includes taking opera to small stages in small venues throughout Scotland.

The basic issue is always the same: how do you accommodate an opera on a small stage? That challenge is compounded with The Merry Widow, which opened last Thursday to acclaim from a capacity house in the Eastwood Park Theatre, probably one of the more spacious venues the production will reach.

Here's the problem: Lehar's wonderful operetta has a huge cast of 14 singers. Moreover, it's a mobile opera, with lots of movement, including dancing, and a plethora of cross-cutting and interaction between its multifaceted characters. It's a music-theatre piece which needs space, and that's a luxury Scotland's small venues tend to lack.

The production team has cleverly swept the stage of any set, barring a clutch of kitchen chairs, thus maximising space. Locations, from the Pontevedrian embassy to Hanna Glawari's house, the pavilion of seduction in act two, and a ballroom, equipped with a re-creation of Maxim's, grisettes and all, are stunningly evoked by the use of swishy translucent curtains and wonderfully atmospheric lighting. Costuming is lavish and gloriously coloured, and visually it's a treat. (Memo to the production team: lose the soft toys, an embarrassing device with an unintended but alarming oblique reference.) The main irritation arises from director and choreographer Clare Whistler's pragmatic solution to the problem of movement, which is essentially derived from an amalgam of jerky, semaphoric hand signals, robotic offcuts of polonaises and polkas, and sign-language. The impact on the flow of Lehar's gorgeous music is disruptive.

The production has an excellent cast, who will be flying once the wheels are oiled. Every one of them deserves a mention, not least Alexander Grove's Danilo, Stephanie Corley's gleaming Hanna, Harry Ward's wily, laconic and scene-stealing secretary Njegus, and pianist Ruth Wilkinson, who plays her fingers to the bone. And it is good to see seven of the singers coming out of the RSAMD's superior training programme.

Despite my own reservations, it will be a hit. I have absolutely no doubt.

Next performance, Duthac Centre, Tain, tomorrow 7.30pm.