Exoticism was all the rage in 19th century France, and Bizet took full advantage of the fashion. His operas explore a series of far-flung worlds: most famously the gypsy Spain of Carmen, but also the Egyptian harem (Djamileh) and even 14th century Scotland (La jolie fille de Perth). For Les pêcheurs de perles, the first of his operas to be staged, it was upon ancient Ceylon that Bizet's roving eye settled.

Zurga, the village leader (here a French colonial governor), is reunited with his close friend Nadir (one of the pearlfishers of the title). Once, their friendship had been threatened by the beautiful priestess Léïla, but out of loyalty to one another, they both swore to renounce her. When Léïla arrives, veiled, to pray for the pearlfishers of the village, Nadir recognises her - and this time he cannot resist. The pair are discovered and sentenced to death by both the villagers and their leader, Zurga. But when Zurga discovers that Léïla had once saved his life, he overcomes his own jealousy and rage and, risking his own life, rescues and reunites the pair.

As might be expected in an opera whose musical climax is a duet of passionate devotion between two men, there is an ambiguity latent in the familiar love triangle depicted. While the two friends apparently both fell in love at first sight with Léïla, Zurga's anger at her liaison with Nadir appears to stem primarily from the loss of a friend, not of a woman. Simple devoted friendship, or a more powerful feeling? The opera leaves room for various interpretations. Opera Australia's production, directed originally by Ann-Margret Pettersson and rehearsed for the 2008 season by Luise Napier, opts for the latter, in the form of mild homo-eroticism. Zurga fixates on Nadir alone, touching him as tenderly as decorum will allow in their famous duet, while his behaviour to Léïla demonstrates only brutal jealousy, without a hint of sexual tension.

The opera is presented here as the elderly Zurga's regretful memory, stirred by a visit to the opera, and the staging carries the marks of a play within a play. A miniature proscenium at the back of the stage frames a conventionally elaborate village scene, while the action itself plays out on a vast, empty stage where the only furniture is Zurga's wicker chair. As Léïla sings her heartfelt "Comme autrefois", a larger version of that gold proscenium appears behind her, a reminder that neither Zurga's memories nor the tradition of French exoticism is entirely factual: both are a blend of reality and theatrical fantasy.

Emmanuel Joel-Hornak leads a crisp, no-nonsense performance. His restraint is mostly admirable, although this is one opera in which a touch of lyrical extravagance would not be out of place, and there are moments in Joel-Hornak's reading when one longs for a more sensual sound. Elegant as its playing is, the orchestra occasionally risks being overpowered by singers more willing to indulge.

Michael Lewis is a strong, if not vastly sympathetic, Zurga. After an uncharacteristically underpowered beginning on opening night, he returned to authoritative form as the evening progressed. Lewis is at his best in the highly charged Act III confrontation with Léïla, skilfully depicting Zurga's emotional turmoil. Henry Choo brings less complexity to his portrayal of Nadir, an earnest but shallow characterisation. His singing at least is more colourful. It is pleasing to hear Choo's light, sweet tenor developing a richer sound, although the darkening of tone has brought with it a somewhat reedy quality which does not always appeal. The most engaging performance of the evening comes from Leanne Kenneally as the priestess Léïla, touchingly human despite her sacrosanct status. With her vibrant, silvery tone, graceful phrasing and energised stage presence, Kenneally's Léïla combines sweetness with steely determination, girlish affection with adult dignity. Shane Lowrencev is suitably imposing (in voice and manner) as the High Priest Nourabad, the opera's only other solo role. The chorus makes a strong contribution as usual, although in the male-only choruses there is a tendency for certain voices to dominate the ensemble: balance and blend improve when the women join them.

This production of Les pêcheurs de perles is Opera Australia's second Bizet offering of the year: the first was Carmen in the summer season. Although the lesser-known work, Les pêcheurs has proved the worthier venture. Pettersson's intriguing, semiabstract vision is more interesting - and arguably more insightful - than the overcrowded literalism of Francesca Zambello's Carmen, and the cast, while rarely exceptional, is nevertheless talented and appealingly committed. Les pêcheurs de perles might not be a fully-fledged masterpiece, but a production like this is a welcome reminder that it definitely runs deeper than its Top of the Pops duet.