A Little Night MusicSecondStory Repertory, 16587 N.E. 74th St. (Redmond), 425-881-6777, secondstoryrep.org.

A Little Night Music

SecondStory Repertory, 16587 N.E. 74th St. (Redmond), 425-881-6777, secondstoryrep.org. $27. 8 p.m. Thurs.–Sat. Ends March 9.

One thing that made me extra-cranky about Seattle Opera’s production of

The Consul was that the previous evening I’d seen SecondStory’s production of Stephen Sondheim’s 1973 A Little Night Music —superior in every conceivable way a work of art can be, but one Seattle Opera will never stage because, God forbid, it’s a “musical.” (If I’m ever proven wrong, my apology will be loud, eager, and grateful.) Affectionate warmth; wit instead of shtick; lyrics that are nonpareil in their sparkling erudition and intricacy; two dozen memorable tunes; emotion that’s earned rather than cattle-prodded out of you; and above all, a stage full of actual human beings: All this is what Sondheim (music and lyrics) and Hugh Wheeler (book) provided that Menotti couldn’t.

Everyone in SecondStory’s winning cast finds in his or her role some inflection, some tilt that brings it to life: Becca Orts’ effervescent giggles as young bride Anne Egerman; Micheal O’Hara’s smooth urbanity as her older husband Fredrik; the crispness of Sharry O’Hare’s bons mots as ex-courtesan Leonora Armfeldt. At the top is Jennifer Littlefield as the latter’s actress daughter Desiree. Where Menotti gives his heroine a mid-suicide dance number, Sondheim gives his his greatest hit, “Send in the Clowns,” a lusciously affecting what-if elegy sung to Fredrik, her lover of years past. (My only casting quibble is that Josh Krupke seems awfully young for the belligerent Carl-Magnus, Desiree’s current amour, though he blusters gamely and amusingly nevertheless.) If the approach as a whole could be drier—this production’s a floral Asti rather than a snappy cava—it’s still got loads of charm deepened with bittersweet notes, fully in tune with Sondheim and Wheeler’s wry insights into the human heart and genuine regard for their characters.

gborchert@seattleweekly.com