Mozart leaps into 21st century

When you think about it, it's a minor miracle.

A 1790 Mozart opera, dragged into the 21st century — where it works with the kind of compelling theatrical ease rarely seen on the operatic stage. Two completely different casts, each a formidable sextet of top Mozart singers.

And a production that may well be the funniest and the most dramatically successful show Seattle Opera has ever staged.

The adroit staging of Seattle Opera's "Cosi fan tutte" is the achievement of director Jonathan Miller, who originated this concept at the Royal Opera Covent Garden (in London).

On opening night, it was apparent that Miller's cast of terrific singing actors was right at home in the production. There were no awkward moments or stock gestures; everything the singers did made complete sense.

Shouts of laughter erupted from McCaw Hall at the incongruity of some of the updates.

In the opening scene, the two fashionista sisters gaze not at portraits of their beloved fiancés, but at their cellphone images.

Their personal assistant arrives with Starbucks lattes, the wedding contract is hammered out on a laptop computer, and the fiancés (disguised as leather-clad rockers to test the fidelity of their girlfriends) munch M&Ms when they pretend to take poison.

A wealth of witty details enriched the action at every turn.

It's not a show for purists, but everyone else was roaring at Jonathan Dean's projected captions, in which the "rockers" were "two dudes from Federal Way" who address the "most righteous of babes."

The clever and effective costuming (built and assembled by Seattle Opera's costume shop) was displayed on a basic but functional modernist set, made in Seattle to a design by the Royal Opera House Design Department.

It would be impossible to overpraise Saturday's cast. Matthew Polenzani (Ferrando) is a Mozart tenor of exceptional beauty and finesse.

Christopher Maltman (Guglielmo), a former Seattle Opera Artist of the Year, has a distinctively handsome baritone, and Christine Rice (Dorabella) proved a most fetching singing actress.

Alexandra Deshorties is a really remarkable Fiordiligi, with a gorgeous voice that nimbly negotiates the huge leaps in her arias, and an intelligence that illuminates her every musical line.

The wily veteran Richard Stilwell made a suave, authoritative Don Alfonso, quaffing champagne and manipulating the action. Kimberly Barber was a terrific Despina.

It's almost too much to expect that the second cast, in which every singer is replaced, could equal the first one in vocal and theatrical finesse. But Sunday's cast was very nearly there: Maria Zifchak's saucy Dorabella and Jessica Jones' agile, well-sung Fiordiligi, Don Frazure's puckish but lyrical Ferrando, and Frances Lucey's clever Despina.

David Adam Moore used his physical presence to excellent advantage as Guglielmo, and Valerian Ruminski was a most enjoyable Don Alfonso.

Miller stashed the chorus offstage, where it sang briefly and accurately. Under the baton of Andreas Mitisek, whose harpsichord continuo and interpolations were brilliantly effective, the orchestra supported the singers ably — even when Polenzani, lying on his back, dove into an exquisite pianissimo during his aria, "Un' aura amorosa."

This funniest of productions takes a dark turn in the final scene, in which the two fiancés who have romanced each other's girlfriends (in order to win a wager) are suddenly outraged when they succeed.

It's impossible to know what Mozart would have thought of all this, but I like to think he's laughing his celestial wig off.