Francesca Zambello’s production throws everything at Carmen: donkeys, horses, abseiling smugglers, a giant Madonna and, of course, this being Seville, an orange tree. No bull for the bullfight but we mustn’t be greedy. Bizet’s opera survives, firstly because it’s a great opera, which we knew, but also because Elı¯na Garancˇa is a great Carmen, which we didn’t.

Zambello’s staging focuses fairly well on what matters. If it misses few opportunities for a song-and-dance routine, Bizet can take it, and Arthur Pita’s choreography, galvanised by Bertrand de Billy’s sometimes headlong tempos, has the right bawdy energy. Zambello is good with crowds but she clears the stage for the one-to-one encounters that are the opera’s heart.

Matching Garancˇa is no easy task, and Ildebrando D’Arcangelo’s glamorous but vocally lifeless Escamillo comes nowhere close. Roberto Alagna’s José, the sad-sack soldier she seduces then tosses aside, is an altogether sexier proposition. His tone can be hard but in the big moments his voice rings out full and true; as the opera closes, his sudden lurch from bruised pride to murderous violence is terrifying. For once it’s possible to imagine that Carmen might actually find José a challenge worth rising to.

And then there is Garancˇa. The Latvian mezzo is naturally blonde, but her Carmen wig suits her. Arms and legs akimbo, skirts lifted dangerously high, she exudes a hair-trigger sexuality that is balanced by mischievous wit. Her voice is in superb shape, light and sensuous but with ample power to ride over the orchestra. Her French, unlike Alagna’s, is somewhat approximate, but the precision of her singing and of her acting makes every detail clear. There are moments when this Carmen becomes a one-woman show; but what a woman.

Until 24 October. Information: 020 7304 4000, www.roh.org.uk.