Promoted jointly by Raymond Gubbay and the venue itself, this revival of David Freeman's Royal Albert Hall staging of Bizet's Sevillian drama was first seen in 2002. In theory, it is an admirable example of presenting opera to large audiences outside the pricier opera houses, and much of the show proves to be of solid quality. But designer David Roger's use of the central arena demonstrates not only the possibilities but also the pitfalls of the space.

Though the action is forwarded to the 1920s, the piece is played pretty straight. Much of the drama takes place near the orchestra, which is inevitably a long way from many seats. A parade of soldiers and townspeople in the opening scene is the last positive use of the entire stage until the smugglers enter in act three - some going one way, the rest, curiously, the other. But the last act works brilliantly, drawing on the fiesta feel of Bizet's music to introduce a riot of colour and movement into a show that until then has been sparing of both.

Some of the central action has lost the crispness it had in the 2005 revival. In this first of two casts, characterisations are generalised rather than specific, with the crucial relationship between Carmen and Don José fuzzy around the edges until the violent ending. The singing, though, is respectable enough.

Cristina Nassif certainly looks the femme fatale, and moves well, even if much of her vocalism is low-key and lacks an essential fascination. John Daszak plays the mother's-boy side of José to perfection, though he lacks the intensity of a conflicted individual who is just waiting to explode given the wrong circumstances. The top of his voice has its unstable moments. Elizabeth Atherton makes Micaëla into a milksop, whereas she needs to present determination as a solid counterweight to Carmen's amorality. Only Carlos Archuleta's Escamillo really aligns voice and physicality, into a powerful realisation of the macho bullfighter.

Peter Robinson conducts a performance that is present and correct rather than passionate. The playing of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra is careful, with the odd minor issue of co-ordination intervening between the conductor's beat and singers who can only see him via monitors. What comes over of Amanda Holden's English singing translation is perfectly apt, though the amplification swallows much of it.