Jerry Springer: The Opera

Jerr-y! Jerr-y! TV's notorious talk show inspires a musical comedy masterpiece.

The operatic voice is a wonderful instrument for conveying sublime, elevated feelings. It's also great for gutter-level trash talk. The power of a 20-strong chorus berating a guest on The Jerry Springer Show for being a junkie whore-bag is something you don't want to miss. So is the slobbish Tremont (former Opera Australia tenor Warren Fisher) confessing to his fiancée in a glorious aria that he has not one but two lovers; overweight pole artiste Shawntel (Alison Jiear) exclaiming "I just wanna fuckin' dance"; and infantilist Baby Jane (Kate Miller-Heidke) pleading in her bell-like coloratura soprano for "mama give me smack on the asshole".

Springer, the creation of London comedians Richard Thomas and Stewart Lee, is a widescreen extravaganza that draws an ironic line between the tragic love triangles of operatic tradition and the sordid soap of TV's most notorious let-it-all-hang-out talk show. A deeply Catholic vein of confession and absolution runs through Jerry Springer - its host is more evangelist than journalist - and this angle is taken to its logical extreme in the opera version, which turns metaphysical in its second half to explore whether Springer is sinner or saint.

The Sydney Opera House production imports Jiear from the original London cast together with David Bedella as Jerry's mercurial audience warm-up man, who takes on a more demonic aspect after interval. In non-singing roles, David Wenham dons the glasses, microphone and coolly patronising tone of Springer himself, and Marcus Graham is the show's famously overworked security guard Steve Wilkos. Heroic director Gale Edwards pulled the show together in a lightning three-week rehearsal period. If it weren't for one missed lighting cue on opening night, you'd think it had been running for a year.

The Jerry Springer Show is arguably the nadir of western civilisation, but Jerry Springer: The Opera allows audiences to revel in a parade of adultery, sexual difference, racism and sacrilege from a safe position of laughter and sheer enjoyment of great music. Whether it's tap dancing Ku Klux Klan members, protracted cadenzas on the f-word, or Jesus Christ himself admitting that he's "a little bit gay", this show goes there. It's outrageous, ingenious, absolutely filthy and oddly cathartic. Don't miss it. Nick Dent