Man of La Mancha

Never mind yer James Joyces or yer Virginia Woolfs; Miguel de Cervantes was messing with linear narrative and playing intertextual games generations before any of the 20th century's high priests of self-regarding modernism

Dale Wasserman's version, originally a straight play before it was turned into a Tony award winning musical in the 1960s, with music and lyrics by Mitch Leigh and Joe Darion, does not follow Cervantes' novelistic games exactly. Instead he invents a parallel but distinctly theatrical conceit in which Cervantes arrives in prison and "plays out" the story in his manuscript to the other prisoners, taking the role of Alonso Quijana who, in turn, imagines he is the down at heel knight Don Quixote.

In Martin Duncan's warm-hearted, witty and hugely enjoyable production for the Royal Lyceum, the inmates of the prison are not only drafted in to the play the other characters in the story, they all also happen to be excellent musicians. So instead of a pit band accompanying the singing and dancing on stage, they accompany themselves, picking up and putting down their instruments as required.

This would not have been possible without Leigh's unusual original orchestrations, which use mainly woodwind and brass. Robert Pettigrew, the musical director, has also done some skilful re-arranging of his own. In addition the whole thing is done without any vocal or instrumental amplification at all, a rare treat these days and ideally suited to an auditorium the size of the Lyceum.

Such an approach asks some serious questions of the singers as well. But from Nicholas Pound's melifluous baritone as the Don, to Steve Elias' mock heroic tenor as Sancho Panza (complete with Welsh accent), to some fine choral work from the company, they answer them in style. Pound is terrific all round; he plays with all the conventions and yet still leaves you believing in the imaginary knight and all he stands for, dreaming that impossible dream, as the show's famous hit number has it.

Best of all is Pauline Knowles as the serving girl Aldonza, whom the knight of the woeful countenance adopts, much to her discomfiture, as his lady Dulcinea. In terrific voice, and completely convincing as the slatternly serving girl, she somehow also becomes worthy of her knight's preposterous inventions.

Francis O'Connor receding jail house set is excellent. The prison guards, originally supposed to be of the Inquisition, have a hint of a more recent Fascist Spain about them. But in general this is at the lighter and sweeter end of readings of Don Quixote, and all the more enjoyable for that.