Founded in 1939 as West Riding Opera Circle, the society staged over fifty productions at Leeds Civic Theatre before transferring to the brand new Carriageworks in 2006. Martin Binks has conducted every production since 1969 including the northern premieres of Delibes’ Lakme, Marschner’s The Vampire and Lortzing’s The Poacher. Many other rarities such as Lalo’s Roi d’Ys, Weber’s Abu Hassan, Gounod’s Mireille, Vaughan Williams’s Hugh the Drover and Verdi’s Sicilian Vespers have been produced alongside bread and butter works like Bizet’s Carmen, Smetana’s Bartered Bride and Gounod’s Faust. West Riding Opera has not previously staged Mozart’s enchanting comic opera and I have to say that the 350 seater Carriageworks is the ideal space for such an intimate comedy of manners. Producer Sarah Estill has updated the action to the early 20th Century giving the household of the philandering Count Almaviva more of a genteel English upper-class atmosphere not unlike Upstairs Downstairs, the much-loved 70s television series.

Esthill’s slow-burning production reveals the subtleties of the comedy whilst allowing space for the opera’s more reflective moments. Martin Binks - with an astonishing two hundred and forty West Riding Opera performances under his cummerbund – draws characterful and elegant playing from the forty musicians of the West Riding Opera Orchestra.

The society always casts two sets of principals; the singers appearing at the performance that I attended were very fine indeed.

Leading the aristocracy, Andrew de Rozario gave a suave, velvety performance as the Count, and Andrea Tweedale touchingly conveyed the Countess Almaviva’s sense of fun – and her humanity.

From below stairs, Richard Pascoe’s rich and sonorous Figaro oozed self-confidence and he was well partnered by the winsome Susanna of Flavia Alban de Lima. Beth Archer looked ideal as the page Cherubino and sang her two famous arias beautifully. Kristina Hodgson’s Marcellina and Matthew Palmer’s Bartolo were amusing creations, if perhaps looking too youthful to be Figaro’s long-lost parents. Leon Waksperg’s Don Basilio was an exemplar of good diction.

In fact every member of the large cast was first rate, evidently fired up by Estill’s refreshing production concept. Martin Binks’s pacing of the score was absolutely spot-on and those exquisitely wrought arias and ensembles just flowed along. The West Riding Opera Chorus, dressed up to the nines, undoubtedly made the most of their two brief scenes.