The two recent Castleward Opera seasons in Belfast have not been impressive theatrical or musical achievements. And, of course, with such a disparity of venues - the postage-stamp stage in the converted stable at Castle Ward for the original productions, the Grand Opera House for the revivals - a certain amount of mis-matching was always to be expected.

So, it was with the cautious words of a wise counsellor in my ears, praising the company's achievement in the adaptation of last spring's Barber of Seville to the bigger stage (I hadn't been impressed, myself), that on Sunday last I approached the new Castleward Madama Butterfly in the setting for which it was actually conceived. The venue is tiny. It's not even half the size of the Theatre Royal in Wexford, and the stage lacks either wings or fly-tower. As a consequence, there's no shortage of volume from either singers or orchestra. The voices carry well, and the 40-odd players in the band can drum up excitement aplenty when required.

The results achieved under David Angus, however, didn't always make for an experience that was well-balanced. There was no lack of animation or colour from the orchestra, yet I found myself unable to dispel the underlying impression that this was about as unfeeling a Butterfly as I'd ever heard.

The hard tone and tough line of the Butterfly herself, Constance Novis, contributed significantly to this impression. And, with the exception of Suzuki (the passionately concerned Nuala Murray), there aren't many characters in this opera to warm the atmosphere, certainly not the self-obsessed Pinkerton (Alan Oke), or the well-intentioned, ineffectual Sharpless (Russell Smythe).

The designer David Craig provided some attractive pictures of angled bamboos and lanterns, but director Christopher Cowell didn't satisfactorily resolve the problems posed by the tiered levels of the stage. It will be interesting to see how things resolve when this Butterfly moves to Belfast next spring.