Il barbiere di Siviglia, Royal Opera House, London

Wrapped up in pastel paper and topped off with a crescent moon, Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser's latest Rossini opera for Covent Garden is instantly identifiable as theirs. Stars twinkle in an azure sky. A lissom hero serenades his love in a Saturday Night Fever suit. But where are the post-modern furnishings, the pop-up beds and the tight physical comedy?

Those expecting the zip of Il turco in Italia or the zest of La Cenerentola will be confounded by Caurier and Leiser's Il barbiere di Siviglia. The character development is minimal, the sets (by Christian Fenouillat) likewise, save for a flashy piece of stage-machinery that shakes the opera about as though it were a mystery parcel. Indeed, the most persuasive reason for coughing up a handsome sum to see this bland Barber is its sparky heroine.

Though she could eat Toby Spence (Almaviva) for breakfast and still manage a bite of George Petean (Figaro) with her mid-morning macchiato, Joyce Di Donato gives a marvellous impression of Rosina's girlish delirium: clutching the stiff pink petticoats of her pistacchio prom dress as though they were the shoulder blades of her imaginary lover, and stroking the walls of her candy-striped cell as though every surface held the key to an intense erotic adventure. With her fun-in-the-sack coloratura, creamy legato and bell-like intonation, Di Donato is certainly a sexy Rosina, but Caurier and Leiser fail to establish any reason for her passivity in the face of her impending nuptials to her repulsive guardian. All too soon, you find yourself thinking "Oh, just hit him over the head with a chair-leg and walk out of the door, girl!" And once that happens, any suspension of disbelief is shot.

Spence is not an ideal Almaviva - his singing is too delicate, too literary, too Mozartian - but he acquits his role with considerable charm. Petean sings brightly but is hampered by being made over into a day-glo clown. This is less damaging than Caurier and Leiser's bizarre caricaturing of Bartolo (Bruno Pratico) and his intimates, who have child-catcher noses and padded bellies and bottoms in addition to Rossini's subtler defects of greed, solipsism, and compulsive yawning and sneezing. That Pratico and Elizabeth Gale (Berta) project their voices beyond their prosthetics is miraculous; though instead of feeling sympathy for these unfortunate grotesques, one's sympathy goes to the singers who are forced to play them in this manner.

Despite some untidiness in the overture, Mark Elder's stylish conducting makes magic out of the ensembles; restoring the drive and rhythm that Caurier and Leiser so nearly eradicate. His accompaniment is minutely adjusted to the individual voices, with radiant clarity for Di Donato, and a softer, milder, antiqued tone for Spence's slender, graceful singing. Some superbly characterised work from the woodwind can be heard throughout, however, this is a bad hair day for Covent Garden.

a.picard@independent.co.uk

'Il barbiere di Siviglia': Royal Opera House, London WC2 (020 7304 400), to 18 January