The Merry Widow, Opera Holland Park

In this high-octane co-production by Opera Holland Park, Scottish Opera and D’Oyly Carte Opera, The Merry Widow is dragged from Belle Époque Paris and dropped unceremoniously into the cigar smoke and pinstripes of 1950s New York. Directed by John Savournin with a new English translation by Savournin and David Eaton, Lehár’s operetta is transformed into a mafioso caper, part The Godfather, part farce, with cement mixers, lemon trees, and a surprising number of gun-toting buffoons.

The concept is ambitious, but the results are uneven. The production leans heavily on cartoonish Italian-American stereotypes. Dialogue is packed with clichés (“bada bing, bada boom”) and delivered in thick, often shouty accents, which, though knowingly playful, quickly wear thin. A sense of tonal inconsistency permeates the first act, where forced humour and laboured exposition fail to lift the narrative, despite some spirited ensemble work. The “birthday” cement mixer and a dancing corpse at the villa provide moments of unexpected delight, but such flashes are few and far between in the overlong first half.

Musically, the evening fares better. Stuart Stratford leads the Orchestra of Scottish Opera with finesse, coaxing warmth, elegance, and bounce from Lehár’s luxurious score. The overture shimmers, the waltzes are buoyant, and the ensemble numbers sparkle. The orchestra’s refined playing is one of the evening’s saving graces, even if it sometimes overpowers singers working against the acoustic challenges of the venue.

Vocally, the cast delivers with charm and technical assurance. Paula Sides is an understated Hanna Glawari, her soprano sweet in the upper reaches but occasionally overwhelmed in the lower register. Alex Otterburn’s Danilo brings vocal velvet and emotional shading, though his character’s detached air sometimes flattens the drama. Their chemistry is real enough, but underdeveloped by a libretto that rushes reconciliation and meanders through their “will-they-won’t-they” arc in a sagging Act Two.

Henry Waddington’s Don Zeta is a highlight, energetically sung and comically timed, even if robbed of genuine threat. Rhian Lois, as Valentina, makes a compelling case for a more emotionally grounded character, her bright soprano cutting through the noise with conviction. Supporting roles, including the clownish Cascada (Christopher Nairne) and St Brioche (Connor James Smith), offer visual and comic energy, though their antics sometimes tip into caricature.

The set, designed by takis, is visually lavish – all rococo sofas, swirling art, and rotating lemon groves. Maxim’s crimson interior in Act Three is particularly memorable. Yet for all its camp and colour, the production never quite finds its heart.

Photo credit: Mihaela Bodlovic, Opera Holland Park