Bizet might have been a talented tunesmith, but he unaccountably left several crucial elements out of Carmen.

Where is the music for the dancing horses, or the march for 20-piece brass band, or the interludes of flamenco dancing? And shouldn’t an opera involving a bullfighter be acted out in a gigantic bullring? All this was remedied in a huge tent beside lovely Leeds Castle, when the impresario Ellen Kent introduced the latest of her intrepid operatic imports from Eastern Europe. The singers and orchestra for this one came mostly from Moldova, but the staging was very much Kent’s conception. And if it was closer at times to Billy Smart’s Circus than the Opéra Comique in Paris, why not?

For those who seek dark, deep insights into the psychology of free-spirited women and their jealous lovers, there are umpteen “meaningful” productions of Carmen doing the rounds. However, as the 6,000 punters who rolled up for these two performances will attest, there are plenty of people who are happy to enjoy a lustily sung, bone-shakingly amplified Carmen that’s jam-packed with spectacle but blissfully free of any convoluted “subtext” (as well as about half an hour of Bizet’s music, cut to make way for all the extra livestock).

My only regret? Although we had a bullring, prancing horses (plus doughty ladies who ran round with giant dustpans and brushes, attempting to clear up all the droppings the horses left behind) and endless processions of torch-bearing matadors, toreadors and whatnotadors, there were no bulls. But there was an interesting extra Spanish touch at the end. Instead of the opera finishing, as Bizet intended, with Don José howling his remorse over the lifeless body of the stabbed Carmen, this production added an entire funeral procession for the ill-fated Gypsy girl, accompanied by a wailing lament from an unaccompanied flamenco singer. It was the most striking singing of the night.

Not that this accolade says a great deal. I liked the lyrically sung Micaela of Irina Vinogradova, and Zarui Vardanean’s feisty Carmen was fine after a clumsy, clunky Habanera. But Irakli Grigali sang much of Don José’s part at a pitch that bore only a passing resemblance to the one favoured by the Chisinau National Philharmonic. And the Escamillo, Petru Racovita, never gave one the impression that he could stop a raging bull with one deft thrust of his espada.

Still, this extraordinary show is held together with remarkable deftness by the conductor Gheorghe Stanciu.

In tandem with Moldovan productions of La Bohème and Tosca, this Carmen now tours 43 towns in Britain and Ireland over the next three months – though sadly without the dancing horses.

Tour details: www.ellenkent.com

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