It takes a hard heart not to be swept along by Die Fledermaus. It might be nonsense but it’s wonderful, frothy, life-affirming nonsense. John Copley’s production is as opulent as a Viennese chocolate cake. It's chock-full of splendour, posh frocks and masks, and warm comedy.
After a fancy dress ball, Eisenstein left his friend Dr Falke to make his way home in broad daylight still dressed as a bat. Falke plots revenge for this humiliation. Eisenstein has been sentenced to prison but instead accepts Falke's invitation to a party thrown by Prince Orlofsky. Once Eisenstein is out of the way, his wife Rosalinde's former admirer Alfred comes calling. The prison governor arrives to take his prisoner and assumes that Alfred, relaxed in Eisenstein's dressing gown, must be Eisenstein. Later that night everyone, husband, wife, maid and prison governor arrives at Orlofsky's party in one or other disguise. But as dawn arrives reality must return. Adele, Rosalinde's maid, has attached herself to the prison governor, who is surprised to discover Eisenstein is also heading for the prison. In fact everyone ends up at this most improbable after-party rendezvous where Falke declares the whole intrigue to be ‘The Revenge of the Bat’.