In the late 18th century Domenico Cimarosa was to opera buffa what Strictly Come Dancing is to the BBC TV schedules – wall to wall, and arguably even more popular. Churning out four blockbusters a year, Cimarosa was so admired that when his career smash The Secret Marriage (Il Matrimonio Segreto), a drawing-room comedy of the machinations of social ascent, had its premiere in Vienna in 1792 Emperor Leopold II demanded an immediate rerun.

Cimarosa’s star may now be somewhat eclipsed by Rossini, but The Secret Marriage still holds up remarkably well. A trickle of recent productions includes a lively Opera North affair and its pocket-sized cast (six soloists, no chorus), not to mention the artistic cachet of relative rarity, should make this Scottish Opera repertoire debut an ideal punt.

Performed here in Donald Pippin’s witty English translation, the secret marriage itself is between Carolina, the younger daughter of the social-climbing Geronimo, and Paolino, the latter’s servant. Reimagined against a 1950s backdrop of financially fuelled class mobility, Cimarosa’s protagonists are archetypal middle-class arrivistes whose Robert Adam townhouse is decked out in pistachio and candy pink — with put-upon daddy opportunistically upgrading his social status by foisting the elder daughter Elisetta on to impecunious Count Robinson, sight unseen. Robinson, meanwhile, falls for Carolina, while the jealous gorgon Elisetta joins up with formidable Aunt Fidalma — in love with Paolino — to get poor Carolina to a nunnery. Drawing-room stuff, yes, but watch out for those carpet tacks.

Slapstick can make Cimarosa’s cohesive if somewhat one-paced hit a little too buffa for comfort, but this well-judged dramatic affair has the director Harry Fehr coaxing some delightful, nuanced ensemble work from a sparky cast on Tom Rogers’s delicious split-level set.

Below stairs, the conductor Garry Walker keeps the relentless yet colourful train of ensemble and recitative pacey and sure, but vocally things are far less rosy. In a serviceable if uneven cast, Rebecca Bottone’s Carolina is charismatic enough, but a strained Matthew Garrett struggles from the off as Paolino — what are his upwardly mobile motivations? Individual honours go to Quirijn de Lang’s dashing, self-serving but sympathetic Count Robinson, who effortlessly puts the comic in timing. All in, worth your credit crunch pounds.

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