Some operas just are sunnier than others and so, on a cold, wet January night, it’s good to be transported to the home of the Count and Countess Almaviva, open to the public (hours unspecified but look to be flexible).

Opera North’s new production of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro, directed by Louisa Muller, is set in a shabby, genteel English country house and starts, during the overture, with the comings and goings through the boot-room over time, charting the development of the Almaviva marriage. Okay, it’s not immediately obvious why the Count would offer Figaro the bootroom as a matrimonial boudoir, nor does Susanna’s explanation remove those doubts, but designer Madeleine Boyd’s details of the coats, hats and wellies are delicious. 

Liam James Karai is a super Figaro, good-looking, smart, but not quite as clever as he thinks he is. Neither is his employer, James Newby, equally good-looking in red corduroy trousers and sludgy green pullovers, and whose certainties are spinning out of control. He wants to have his way with Susanna – Hera Hyesang Park’s acting is so good – and wants to kybosh or at least postpone her wedding to Figaro. Meanwhile, the neglected Countess (Gabriella Reyes) is pregnant and happy to help Susanna thwart her husband. To complicate matters further, the teenage Cherubino has discovered GIRLS; having already been discovered by the Count in flagrante with Barberina, his card is marked and the Count is suspicious of his being anywhere near Susanna or the Countess, both of whom treat him rather like an over-excited puppy. Hongni Wu is excellent as Cherubino, lively, gauche and with clarity of voice.

This is very much an ensemble performance. Dr Bartolo and Marcellina, also plotting against Figaro’s marriage, booby-trap the boot-room bench and the Count’s wellies. Jonathan Lemalu and Katherine Broderick spark off each other. They are aided by Don Basilio, the Count’s gofer; Daniel Norman’s middle-aged Jack the Laddishness is entertainingly brash. The tourists join the staff in a chorus intended to pressure the Count. It fails.

By Act 2, we have moved to the Countess’s attic bathroom, with doors tucked under stairs and sloping ceilings. Reyes sings Porgi, amor as if she were confiding in her diary. Its relative calm is soon displaced by the mayhem of concealing Cherubino’s presence from the Count. Susanna and the Countess attempt damage limitation in bringing Figaro up to speed, but he’s remarkably obtuse. All the Count finds in the wardrobe is a onesie for a new-born, which disconcerts him.

In Act 3, the stage is split between the billiard room (Count) and the nursery (Countess), with Susanna passing between them, emphasising the contrast between the Count’s plotting and the Countess’s sorrow. The various assignations set up come to fruition of sorts in Act 4, which is set in the stables, rather than the garden; given the white dresses of Susanna and the Countess, one hopes that the bedding in the stable was changed after the equine occupant moved out. The mayhem, misunderstandings and macho posturings continue, until the Count is is confronted by his wife. Silence. As it sinks in, Contessa, perdono, he asks. She takes her time before agreeing so to do. The others, no doubt embarrassed by that little domestic, are eager to rush off for fireworks and dancing – the Count is about to follow, when he turns, holds out his hand to his wife. She hasn’t moved by the time the curtain falls.

Conductor Valentina Peleggi keeps everything moving at a cracking pace, and the orchestra’s playing is light and sprightly. Movement director Rebecca Howell adds to the mayhem, and Malcolm Rippeth’s lighting conveys the passage of time in the worst 24 hours in the Count’s life.

Most important of all, the audience laughter comes naturally in response to the action onstage and often before they have time to read the English translations. This is a good-hearted and genuinely amusing production.