Madama Butterfly, Royal Opera House, London

The Butterfly that Puccini's dreams were surely made of

Of all opera's eponymous heroines, few dominate the drama as completely, as voraciously as Madama Butterfly. From child-bride to fallen woman, from lyric to dramatic soprano, all in less than three hours. Casting is a nightmare. Even in opera there are limits to "suspending disbelief". There are singers who look right and sound wrong, and vice versa. And there is Cristina Gallardo-Domas, the Chilean soprano who took the roof off the Royal Opera House on opening night, and looks set to take possession of this much-coveted role for the foreseeable future.

She does more than sing it, she inhabits it. In mind, body, and spirit she is everything that Puccini must have dreamed of. From those first key phrases when she speaks of her pride in kneeling at the same altar as her "American" husband-to-be, the enticing flutter in the portamento, the way in which one note seemed to surrender to the next, conveying excitement and vulnerability and desire all at one, gave notice of just how affecting she could be.

Notwithstanding the odd pitch problems where momentary lapses in technique rudely intruded upon sense and feeling, she was quite wonderful. Her resolve was thrilling. This is a voice that really opens to the big climaxes. And there's that distinctive plangency, that inky intensity in the middle and bottom registers. When she tells her son that she would rather die than dance again to the Geisha's deceitful song, the word "Morta!" was dragged up from somewhere cold and dark inside her.

So, if this was near-ideal casting for Cio-Cio-San, you could argue that so was Marco Berti for BF Pinkerton. Loud, brash, unyielding, unfeeling. That just about sums up the US lieutenant's qualities in Act I. But, of course, what works for the drama does not necessarily work for the opera, and it would have been nice to have heard at least one graceful phrase from this singer. Elegant it was not.

That fell to Lucio Gallo's Sharpless, though even he and the touching Suzuki of Enkelejda Shkosa seemed diminished by the power of Gallardo-Domas. And the conducting of Antonio Pappano, reminding us of the score's transparency, its subtler brushwork; reminding us, in more wonderful playing from the Royal Opera orchestra, that the company has definitely made the right choice of music director.

The production, by Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser, sets us down simply in the house of Pinkerton's seduction. The sliding walls – or shutters in Act II when it becomes Butterfly's "American" home (designed by Christian Fenouillat) – reveal glimpses of real and imagined worlds, two- or three-dimensional according to their relevance in the drama: a faded photo of Nagasaki harbour, real flowers in full bloom, a cheaply painted backdrop of green hills and cherry blossom.

When the Bonze arrives to renounce Butterfly for betraying her heritage, this cheesily romantic, shamelessly Westernised evocation of Japan topples, to be trampled underfoot by her fleeing relatives. The idea could have been taken even further, as Graham Vick did in his memorable ENO staging.

But go – you must – for the majestic Gallardo-Domas. In her final moments, as the chill wind of death literally strips the blossom from the tree, she hears Pinkerton's voice and struggles once more to her feet. The sleeves of her kimono become butterfly wings. She attempts to fly, finally to be free of her past. It could have been a visual metaphor too far, but it works – because she works. Don't miss her.

Tonight at 7.30pm, then 25, 28 March, and 2, 5, 7 and 10 April (020-7304 4000)