There must be a seat in the Royal Opera House from which Jonathan Miller's doll's house staging of Donizetti's Don Pasquale looks perfect. It is not the top-price front stalls.

Dr Miller may be shocking the bourgeoisie by giving that privilege to those in the gods. For the rest of us, it's an evening of neck-craning. As with looking at fan vaulting in churches, the principle is fine but eventually gravity and physical frailty force your eyes down to ground level.

The problem, evident when this 2004 production was new, is that in Isabella Bywater's period townhouse design, too much of the action happens in the upper storeys. You find yourself staring at an empty stage with glorious singing coming from somewhere up aloft.

Norina's first aria was delivered from a high balcony but most of her face was obscured by a balustrade, a pity since Aleksandra Kurzak was a delight, looking like an animated Bo Peep and tossing off her coloratura with the deft brilliance of pebbles skimming water.

Indeed this was a strong cast all round, conducted with Italianate lilt and panache by Bruno Campanella, and with fine playing.

Eric Cutler as the drippy, droopy hero Ernesto sang with the right degree of reedy finesse, his Poor Me (I am paraphrasing) aria accompanied by a darkly melancholy solo trumpet. Alessandro Corbelli's lugubrious Don Pasquale had crisp humour, especiallyin his duet with the Malatestaof Christopher Maltman, who looked unrecognisable beneath gruesome make-up but transformed his superb rich baritone into an instrument of bantamweight agility for Donizetti's acrobatic vocal writing.

Miller's scheme, presumably, was to emphasise the mechanical and clockwork in Donizetti's poised score, a version of the traditional old fool duped by young lovers story. But the net result is like speeded-up weather persons forever emerging and disappearing from their box.

Garsington's recent witty production had blown the cover on this kind of version by investing the characters with un-toytown, down-to-earth, humanity. Reduced to dolls, even when graced by a fine musical performance, they lack heart

In rep until 22 July (020 7304 4000).