IIt is 150 years since Johann Strauss II’s operetta was first performed in Vienna, and it has been a staple in the repertoire ever since. Die Fledermaus features an extravagant celebration of the virtues of champagne, and since champagne and summer – or what passes for summer – are synonymous in opera, it was a natural choice for If Opera for its final season at Belcombe Court before moving elsewhere.

Motivated by his deep humiliation at being abandoned after a party, overnight in a park, drunk and disguised as the titular bat, notary Dr. Falke sets a trap designed to expose his friend Gabriel von Eisenstein as the unfaithful husband and serial seducer he is known to be. Ultimately, the willing conspirators in this game of revenge – for which The Bat has become a code word – naturally laughingly blame the champagne for the machinations, disguises, transgressions and general mischief that takes place at Prince Orlofsky’s ball. The thought of revenge inevitably evaporates as quickly as the blisters and pain of betrayal have dissipated.

Director Simon Butteriss’ interpretation deviated from the usual: the sung words were John Mortimer’s well-known translation, but Butteriss’ dramatic narration replaced the spoken dialogue, ostensibly to clarify the various plot lines. He delivered the narration in his usual manner in the role of the lawyer Dr Blind, darting in and out of the action, but the generous sprinkling of double entendres and joking allusions to Freud did not get as many laughs as it could have. Moreover, the complete removal of the non-singing character Frosch meant that the third act lacked its usual comic twist, which is no bad thing, as it can all too easily fall flat. This reorientation of some of the comedy meant emphasising the elements of farce, both in the stage action and when the singers, gleefully poking fun at themselves, begin to dance.

Set in a tent theater, a nearly circular stage against a backdrop of columns and curtains, the props are minimal, first a round sofa and then two gilded chairs, the latter even serving as an anteroom to the prison where everyone eventually assembles. Although it was almost stage-worthy, it was still cleverly executed and well received thanks to the strong vocal performances of all involved.

Strauss’s enduring appeal lies simply in the way the music bubbles along in the right hands, here those of conductor Thomas Blunt, and the flair with which Blunt handled the subtle give and take of phrase-making with the singers, as well as the small Bristol Ensemble, provided an authentic Viennese feel. The fine soprano of Galina Averina as Rosalinde, the betrayed and deceived wife of Edward Leach’s Eisenstein, stood out, and Matthew Siveter as Frank proved a highly entertaining dancer.