The Fairy Queen closely follows the plot of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream – which is the age old story of girl loves boy, boy loves another girl, who in turn loves another boy, all go to the forest where they encounter fairies, love potions, and a man called Bottom who has been turned into a donkey. All this is set to an early Baroque score which, although not iconic, is solidly performed by The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment conducted by William Christie.

The production sets out its deconstructionist approach from the second scene, where actors in period dress are joined on stage by cleaners in boilersuits with a vacuum cleaner, immediately blurring the lines between performace and created reality. Add to this the fact that a large percentage of the opera is set-up as entertainment primarily for those on stage – including the Pyramus and Thisbe “play within a play” – and, like Lysander et al. in the forest, you are left wondering whether you are dreaming or awake. The consistency slowly breaks down, tearing layers off the traditional Stuart era mask, and when members of the cast dressed as bunnies simulate sex acts on stage singing “A thousand, thousand ways we’ll find to entertain the hours”, the boundaries and rule dissolve entirely.

The first half’s variety is backed up by some fantastic set pieces including a beautiful dance piece where a female fairy leads a sleeping man (with pillow) through a mesmerising combination of lifts and footwork, the male “Echo” semi-chorus, and Sally Dexter’s alluringly dangerous Titania falling for the ass-headed Bottom.

The final two acts continue to showcase the inventiveness of the director, with Adam and Eve becoming Aussie beach bums within the space of a few minutes, and the wedding scene being stalled by a vicar appearing in the audience. However without the benefit of a full lavish set (described excellently here by Kate Kellaway), the continued liberal disconnect between the on-stage audience those of us in the stalls falls short through a lack of signposting and the constant feeling that there’s some kind of inside joke going on here.

The laughs (after all, this is a comedy) are genuine, and the vocal highlight of the evening comes in the form of Carolyn Sampson’s stunning soprano lament, but throughout a second half which is essentially a Nutcracker-esque variety showcase, the transition from it’s much lauded East Sussex home – which maintains the dreamlike direction without the mesmerising production budget – has left The Fairy Queen wanting. There are five more performances of the Glyndebourne show – if you get a chance to see it, I’d certainly be interested to hear your thoughts.