The Santa Fe Opera's new production of Donizetti's The Elixir of Love, its first mounting of the lively comedy in 41 years, opened with a literal bang Saturday evening. At several points during the performance, bursting rockets set off in honor of the Fourth of July filled the skies around and about. They were a corollary to the bright singing coming from the stage and the merry playing bubbling out of the pit.

Opera reflects real life in a heightened fashion, so frothy fun has as much a part in the art form as intense tragedy does. People don't spend all their time lurking in dark corners, putting poison in drinks, and getting stabbed in sacks, after all; there's feasting, loving, and dancing in the mix. Elixir is very human fun, indeed. The only blood seen is that which mounts to the cheek in blushes, the only violence that which rages in a baffled lover's heart.

The bumptious Nemorino is deeply in love with the local queen bee, Adina: they've grown up together. But since his puppylike adoration gets on her nerves, she persists in playing hard to get. When a recruiting officer, Belcore, shows up as a successful rival, Nemorino is stricken. How can he win his love, and fast?

In true operatic fashion, enter the ostensibly benevolent Dr. Dulcamara, who retails an elixir that he claims will cure everything from spavins and heaves in horses to broken hearts in humans. Of course the good doctor is as crooked as two sticks going backwards, but love always finds a way. When he sells Nemorino some quite good red wine in lieu of a magic potion, that and fate do the trick.

Director Stephen Lawless and scenic and costume designer Ashley Martin-Davis decided not to go with the original libretto's Basque country location, or the old-time Italian rusticity this opera is often built around. Instead they moved the period up to or just after World War II, with this particular part of bell' Italia oddly untouched by battle — in fact, full of peace and quiet. Perhaps it's meant to be Italy reconstructed; but in any case, it's successful.

The single set represents the cortile, or gathering place of the local hamlet, where everyone spends much of their time. It's overlooked by a huge billboard advertising olive oil — it seems this village must be perched near a major autostrada — and Pat Collins' lighting mimics the Italian light and air persuasively, both in sunshine and storm.

In keeping with the concept, Belcore is a sergeant, Adina is the proprietor of a big estate and farm, and Dulcamara is a wannabee Godfather chased by the quack police. And Nemorino? Well, besides being the obvious next president of the local Big Galoots Society, he's earnest, hard-working, and not terribly bright; filled with immortal longings for love; and a dab hand of an auto mechanic. He spends a lot of his time tinkering with a red Austin Healey "Bugeye" Sprite that finally rolls onstage in crimson glory.

The three love-triangle singers, all former SFO apprentice artists, are good representatives of the cream of the American opera singer crop: vocally well-schooled, comfortable on stage, and obviously intelligent. They responded well to conductor Corrado Rovaris as he worked to interweave the many obbligato wind parts, bucolically played by the SFO orchestra, with their vocal lines. Rovaris has a sensitive ear and apt dramatic instincts, and he knows how to help an orchestra and chorus chortle as well as declaim. The overall performance was supple and for the most part, well-balanced. I did have some trouble catching all the sung Italian clearly, especially when the fine chorus of apprentice artists was pumping out the volume; but it may have been due to my seat location. SFO has some odd acoustic spots here and there.

Dimitri Pittas' burly frame, expressive dark eyes, and brilliant smile were made for Nemorino and his tenor sparkled like the accompanying fireworks. It is of a good size without being unwieldy, with a glorious golden shimmer and a plangent ring, balanced by a notable palette of softer, duskier hues. Pittas clearly takes such joy in his instrument that you can't help but enjoy it along with him. He delivered the famous Act II aria, "Una furtiva lagrima," with concentration and yes, a tear in the voice, superbly accompanied by Rovaris and the orchestra, the woodwind solos like wind in the wheat.

Jennifer Black's poised, pretty Adina was clearly the mistress of all those she surveyed, from her busy assistant Gianetta (smartly sung by apprentice artist Rachel Schutz) to her farmhands and laborers. She knew she was ruler of Nemorino's heart, too, but it took her some time to admit it. Black's soprano is bright and healthy, with a gleaming edge; but the edge has enough sweet honey coating that it carries well without being cutting. She soared through Adina's music confidently, and showed us the girl's heart behind the woman's sophisticated surface.

Patrick Carfizzi's Belcore not only had the authority of the army behind him, but his own bold ego. Talk about a girl in every port: Belcore has one in every village. Carfizzi's ample baritone has a seductive, dark amber timbre, and he used it to fill the part with virile confidence. He moved cockily, too, with a wink in his walk as well as his eye. Thomas Hammons' deus ex machine Dulcamara came and went like a plump magician in a purple hat, pouring out the character's pronouncements and patter songs in a husky, chuckling bass-baritone.

Contact Craig Smith at 986-3038 or csmith@sfnewmexican.com.

IF YOU GO

What: 'The Elixir of Love'

When: Repeats at 9 p.m. Friday and runs through Aug. 28

Information: Call 986-5900