Terry Gilliam, member of cult comedy team Monty Python, is renowned for his anarchic style, vivid imagination, and his use of surreal imagery in his storytelling. With his successful directing debut at the English National Opera in 2011’s The Damnation of Faust, it’s only right he’s the brains behind their new production of the ever-challenging Berlioz opera, Benvenuto Cellini.

Known to be an opening night disaster, Benvenuto Cellini rarely sees the stage because of its furious energy and pace in score, vocals and story. It’s a majestic piece in itself – the music is demanding, pushing the action rigorously, still keeping a smooth and lightness to it that makes it flow beautifully with the libretto when done right. The question is how to tackle the beast – it’s a monster of an opera if not dealt with carefully, and it does need some shebang and fairy-dust to get it off its feet. Luckily Terry Gilliam is just the man for that.

Benvenuto Cellini is loosely based on the autobiography of Cellini, the sculptor who notoriously seduced half of Florence and was devoted to his art, most famously being asked to create a bronze statue of Perseus that still stands in Florence today. Berlioz’s opera gets its lifeblood from the heart of the man, the Cellini who’s in love, and the artist who is fighting against the clock to avoid the snap of the neck. In love with the papal exchequer’s daughter Teresa, Cellini has to outwit his rival Fieramosca, find a way to pay his workers, and finish the statue of Perseus commissioned by the vain Pope who threatens to have him hanged if the statue isn’t cast by daybreak. Fighting against time, the Mardi Gras celebrations seduce Rome – and at carnival anything can happen.

Benvenuto Cellini is a special kind of opera-comique, a spectacle in itself that draws on commedia dell’arte archetypes as well as a more serious, emotional depth. At the heart of the story we have the lovers, the struggling artist and a feisty young woman dying to break free from her old father’s grip. Michael Spyres’ Cellini is sung with incredible honesty, charisma and musicality and Spyres soars through the difficult score. He’s one of the most sought-after tenors of his generation with a voice you wish you could bottle and keep for a rainy day. Corinne Winters sings Teresa with beautiful clarity and a wonderful, feisty energy, and her other suitor, Fieramosca, is comically portrayed by the versatile Nicholas Pallesen. Paula Murrihy plays the young man Ascanio with charm and character, and the chorus majestically supports them and creates beautiful theatrical images along with a passion for the score that reaches out to all of us. The carnival acts spice up the unfolding action, and the spectacle and confusion of it is probably what makes Gilliam’s production work so well:  instead of rigidly taming the beast, he’s letting it run free and voice itself with a fantastical set, wild acts and pace, and an impressive collaboration with film.

Terry Gilliam has opened his brain up so to speak and let all the fluids run into his work – it’s mad, wonderful and out of control in a way that’s very controlled. He directs with a clear focus but throws in a bit of magic here and there to throw us off track. Designed with Aaron Marsden and Rae Smith the production has the magical wonder of puppetry, film effects, and almost nightmarish sketch-like backdrops that create the city of Rome. It’s clear that half-way isn’t an option for Gilliam – if it has to be done, it has to be done 110%. Benvenuto Cellini at ENO is the work of a mastermind, a collaboration between some of the finest creatives in the West End and beyond. It’s a train-wreck of an opera, but in the best way possible – its madness, pace and bombastic design is what makes this a production you cannot miss. If only Berlioz could have seen it he would have recognised the genius in his work when guided by the right hands.

Benvenuto Cellini is playing at ENO, London Coliseum, until 27 June. For more information and tickets, see the English National Opera website. Photo by Richard Hubert Smith.