Il Matrimonio Segreto, Barbican Hall, London

Striking French customs officials, no doubt eager to work a six-hour day for eight hours' pay, delayed the Eurostar arrival of Christophe Rousset's admirable Les Talens Lyriques and limited their Barbican rehearsal time to 30 minutes. Travel frustrations were left at the stage door, however, leaving the way clear for a delightfully vivacious performance of Cimarosa's two-act comic opera Il matrimonio segreto. Based on Colman and Garrick's play The Clandestine Marriage, the work has rather fallen off the repertoire radar screen in recent years, its popularity undermined by perfunctory productions and what Rousset calls an unfeeling, "automatic" approach to 18th-century comic opera.

The Neapolitan wit and universal humanity of Cimarosa's writing were realised in full measure by Rousset's carefully considered yet spontaneous-sounding interpretation. His uniformly strong cast, fresh from Pierre Audi's production run at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris, understood the dramatic point of working as an ensemble rather than as a grudging formation of self-serving soloists. Maria Panzarella, implausibly attractive as the "ugly" sister Elsietta, brought the spirit and actions of Audi's staging to her big Act Two aria, using Rousset's continuo fortepiano as a sturdy prop and firing off roulades of rapid notes with effortless control. Elsewhere, she took her place within the company to bring page after page of recitative to robust comic life. Matteo Peirone exploited the buffoonery and deafness of old man Geronimo, yet managed to draw sympathy for a character constantly behind the eight ball. Likewise, Bernarda Fink's intelligent and compassionate reading of Fidalma raised the role far above that of stock comedy widow, helped by elegant, unforced singing.

Rousset has the ear and eye for discovering beautiful young singers, casting them in leading roles and ignoring those who would prefer to wait for the conservatoire mill to grind out the blemishes of personality. There are precious few blemishes in Laura Giordano's voice but bags of individuality. Her energy, steely sound, engaging stage manner and film-star looks offered the perfect package for Cimarosa's Carolina. The 22-year-old Sicilian soprano's lyric coloratura was never fully tested by this role, but her skills as an actor and word painter were put to striking use throughout. Her "secret marriage" partner Paolino, presented with genuine bel canto artistry by Jeffrey Francis, made capital out of the gap in years between them. The tenor sang with boyish lightness whenever in Giordano's company and adopted a more heroic tone when serving his master, Count Robinson, memorably played and sung by Lorenzo Regazzo.

The players of Les Talens Lyriques contributed fully to the company feel of this performance. During recitatives, resting members of the band watched the singers and appeared to be turned on by what they saw and heard. Rousset's feeling for setting the "right" pace produced swift but never suicidal tempos, picked up and relayed throughout the orchestra by its excellent leader, Stefano Montanari.