You'd be forgiven for thinking that this was in fact a Filipino production of Il Trovatore visiting Singapore, so abundant is the participation from our neighbour. Happily, the adaptation is highly appropriate, since the opera is set in Spain, and the culture of the Phillipines is deeply influenced by its history as a colony under the Spanish.

The conflicting sides in the opera are represented by the Spanish pit against the rebels seeking revolution; Count di Luna is a Spanish officer while Manrico becomes the leader of the anti-Spanish forces under the historical hero General Aguinaldo. In 1896, the Filipinos launched the Katipunan Movement, and the rebels were called the Katipuneros, which became the gypsies as depicted in this Trovatore.

One of the first clues of these changes, if one did not have time to read the thick programme booklet provided for the evening, is in the beginning of Act 2, Scene I - how odd it was (for a moment) to see a straw-roofed hut, and the crowd of "gypsies" dressed as South-Eastern Asians, or the presence of machetes. Before long, during the famous "Anvil Chorus", one hears the modified lines extolling Filipino cheer. As in their last production, the SLO's fielded choir is a well-trained and well-rehearsed contingent comprising about 90% Filipinos.

In fact, one of this production's most remarkable qualities is the consistency of all the singers, be it soloist or choral. I found it somewhat harder than usual to single out a particular vocal star among them - all were highly distinguished, from the militant machoism of di Marco's Count, to the defiant yet capable-of-gentleness hero of Mok's Manrico, to the commanding, almost fatherly, bass of Bertolino's Ferrando. The women also distinguished themselves, from Lamberti's nobly tragic soprano to Yang Jie's half-crazed mezzo.

Indeed, of great dramatic interest is the Azucena of Chinese mezzo Yang Jie - though my impression of her has not been strong, going by past vocal concerts (often Mozart) with the SSO, in this Trovatore, her possessed portrayal of the almost witch-like yet ultimately tragically human Azucena deserves special mention.

Ms Yang instilled in her character a sense of underlying desperation and a most believable state of self-denial. For a while there, I thought her untidy hairdo and ghastly make-up was a tad overdone, but as the drama progressed, it actually fit well and lent a kind of poignant madness to her tale.

Costumes were first-class in the traditional mode, based on period Filipino style, which, for the Spanish at least, is exactly Spanish. And richly done they were. Much of it, fortunately, adds lots of needed colour to the one main disappointment of the production - the set. This comprised mainly of metal bars suspended from the top of the stage, which dominated nearly every scene. A central stone well is later cleverly upside-downed to make a somewhat sepulcral bed/bench, and the aforementioned straw-roof hut makes quite a visual impression for the Filipino setting.

But the problem is with those metal bar curtains. In the beginning, it looked clever - it doubled as the walls of a castle, and also strongly suggested prison bars - as appropriate to various scenes. But the bars got stuck on the stage, and by the time we reach Act 3, they were becoming quite the bore, if not an eyesore.

Direction and lighting were serviceable without being extraordinary - again, they being ordinary may only serve to further highlight the strong cast, which once again, as in their production of Macbeth proved to be the stars of the show - and good show it was!

CHIA HAN-LEON recently returned from Sydney. He's been regretting coming back ever since.

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