Melanie Eskenazi

The playing was absolutely incandescent, Sir Antonio Pappano urging the orchestra on to great heights and tenderly shaping the singers’ lines.

It’s a different story with the Iago and Desdemona, with both Carlos Alvarez and Ermonela Jaho presenting far more striking characters than Marco Vratogna and Maria Agresta.

Why feature the lighting? Because it was one of the few truly memorable aspects of this otherwise very ordinary production which had little or nothing to say beyond some rather tired clichés.

And in this area Deborah Warner’s mostly straightforward production succeeds, greatly assisted by some superb singing and the sympathetic, evocative playing of the ROH orchestra under the sensitive direction of Ivor Bolton.

The ‘stars’ of a pretty stellar line-up are Laurence Cummings, who directs the London Handel Orchestra with his customary true Handelian style, and Jacquelyn Stucker, whose Alessandro was so convincing that someone asked if that character was being sung by a boy.

In the pit, Stefano Montanari drove the orchestra on at a whizzing pace during the faster numbers, and slowed things down to positively languid whenever the opportunity arose. His fortepiano continuo was witty and well-timed, and he clearly loves the work with a passion.

Musically, this was a generally high-level evening, with the playing of the orchestra and the singing of the protagonist the outstanding features.

Sir Antonio Pappano conducted a wonderful performance of the score, the orchestra playing for him as if their lives depended upon it, and bringing out every nuance of despair and drama in the music.

Overall, it’s not a ground-breaking production but it is enjoyable, well sung and very beautiful – just what you need in the run-up to Christmas.

The cast is superb, all responding with absolute sincerity to the director’s vision of dramatic strength and convincing interaction.

Curmudge over. There are some great vocal performances here, and it’s worth going just for them.

Michael Volle seems born to play Jokanaan, his singing as magisterial as the words he utters and his characterization absolutely convincing.

The real star of the show however was the stage set designed by Michael Levine. It was a white box made of paper. Various images, ranging from 18th century pastoral scenes, to a modern city harsh executive skyline, London black cabs, Instagram-inspired compositions, a crashing stock exchange, or Baba the Turk’s gilded boudoir are projected against its starkness to effectively convey the drastically changing atmosphere.

William Christie’s tiny orchestra was as always the epitome of what this kind of music needs.