The Secret Marriage, Grand Theatre, Leeds

Sisters who are out for the count

Never let it be said that Opera North play safe in their choice of revivals. This season we have already had Jenufa and, in concert, Walton's Troilus and Cressida. In the spring Martinu's Julietta returns in David Pountney's brilliant production. And here, by way of post-Christmas cheer, is Cimarosa's The Secret Marriage, another comparative rarity, first seen in this production at Buxton in 1993.

Cimarosa was, in his heyday, a more popular opera composer than Mozart, and he composed more than 70 operas. This is almost the only one that still survives on the fringes of the repertoire, but it certainly deserves to. It had its premiere in Vienna in February 1792, two months after Mozart's death, and the solemn opening chords of the overture are surely a crib from The Magic Flute.

The story, notwithstanding its origins in the play by Garrick and Colman, belongs to the great tradition of Italian operatic comedy – one of arranged marriages and ambitious, not to say greedy, fathers being frustrated by the workings of natural affections. It has obvious affinities with The Barber of Seville and Don Pasquale. The humour does not have to be added on: it is integral to both the story and the music. Jonathan Miller's straightforward production, as revived by Mark Tinkler, sometimes overdoes the slapstick, but the audience was clearly delighted by it.

Geronimo plans to wed his elder daughter, Elisetta, to the English Milord, Count Robinson. But when the Count arrives he takes an immediate fancy to her prettier younger sister, Carolina, who is already secretly married to Paolino. Comic complications inevitably ensue.

More so even than Figaro, this is an opera of ensembles. Arias are relatively few, and some of them were cut in this version. Cimarosa uses duets, trios and extended ensembles involving all six characters to advance the action and enhance the comedy. It may not have the brilliance of Rossini, but it has verve and charm, and the penultimate scene, in which the married couple plan to make their escape by night, is genuinely touching.

This revival had evidently been well prepared, and the singers, who were all, I think, new to their roles, performed with ease and confidence. It was astonishing to find Henry Waddington, last seen as the sleazy Sacristan in Tosca, transformed into the booming, rotund paterfamilias, Geronimo. He is obviously a real character singer. Richard Morrison, as the suave Count Robinson, made a more than promising debut. Wynne Evans had the right tenor voice for Paolino. Natasha Jouhl, Mary Nelson and Louise Mott all gave well characterised performances as the two sisters and their spinster aunt, Fidalma, also on the look-out for a husband.

Wyn Davies, conducting, clearly knows the piece well, and the orchestra responded positively to his confident direction. So – a committed revival of a piece that certainly shows its durability.

Further performances at the Grand Theatre, Leeds (0113 243 9999) to 23 January, then on tour to Salford, Newcastle and Nottingham, returning to Leeds on 25 February