Carmen the mysteries, Wilton's Music Hall, London

A chorus of approval

Last Tuesday, Rory Bremner was down the East End, taking time out from playing Tony Blair to enjoy his own well-earned ovation as translator of Bizet's Carmen. Not that even this master mimic could claim credit for all the spoken dialogue, most of which was delivered in fluent Xhosa.

For this Carmen, like its touring companion Yiimimangaliso: The Mysteries (a version of the Chester cycle recreated in some seven languages), emanates from the Spier Festival near Cape Town, where Mark Dornford, May and Charles Hazlewood ­ the artistic and music directors respectively of Wilton's resident Broomhill Opera ­ were last year invited to establish South Africa's first ever multi-racial opera company.

Casts were recruited by open auditions, tapping into what, to judge by these two shows, is a rich and accomplished vocal tradition of which apartheid permitted the outside world to hear all too little. Though many in the company have never even left their townships before, no allowances need be made for anyone's amateur status: what some may lack in technique or finesse, they more than make up in passionate commitment.

Both shows are presented "poor opera"-style, with no sets beyond a few beer crates and oil drums against the backdrop of this dilapidated Victorian music hall. Yet, with such energy bursting from the stage (Lillas Pastia's bar, with its Priscilla-like drag-queen waiters, is an especial treat), there's no shortage of atmosphere.

Pauline Malefane's amply voiced Carmen is more stately and statuesque than sexily salacious, but none the worse for that. I've rarely seen her murder more convincingly done than by Luzuko Mahlaba's aptly volatile Don Jose, who has already signalled his emotional instability by twice attempting to strangle her before. The band plays rich and full from its side-position beneath the balcony, the full chorus really raises the rafters, while Rory Bremner's witty rhyming certainly earns its applause.

The Mysteries is, if anything, even better. A succinct, fast-paced precis of the bible story from Creation to Second Coming in two-and-a-half hours flat, it boasts a brilliantly evocative, collectively composed score of largely vocal sounds, punctuated by scrapyard percussion. With the "black" comedy of Noah's stubborn wife relished as strongly as the torture and crucifixion of Christ, any tendency towards the clap-happy is thankfully avoided. The image of Christ's message both as a dance routine ­ first taught to him by an angel, imperfectly imitated by his disciples during his lifetime, then mastered by them after his death ­ and as a tune ­ first picked out by him tentatively on a penny whistle, then triumphantly sung by the whole host of the Saved ­ was utterly inspired.

Together, these two South African shows offer an uplifting example of opera as multi-racial harmony in action. A pity they can't tour to racist, riot-torn Oldham or Leeds.

In rep at Wilton's Music Hall, Grace's Alley, Ensign St, E1, to 30 June, tel: 020-7420 0222