It’s taken 320 years for Charpentier’s take on the bloodthirsty Greek myth of Medea (she who slaughtered her own children) to make its way to the British stage – French Baroque opera has long been a poor relation. But that’s beginning to change. Two years ago English National Opera staged its first Rameau – a much-lauded production of Castor and Pollux – and this summer’s pièce de résistance at Glyndebourne will be a production by Jonathan Kent of the same composer’s Hippolyte et Aricie, with William Christie and a stellar cast including Sarah Connolly in the pivotal role of Phèdre. That will be something to savour if Connolly’s stunning portrayal of Medea, in another fascinating ENO exploration into the genre, is anything to go by.

The Medea myth comes in various versions: Charpentier’s opera, first performed in Paris in 1693 and widely neglected since, uses a libretto by Thomas Corneille which centres on a traditional love-triangle scenario. Jason (he of Argonaut fame, searching for the Golden Fleece), father of Medea’s two children, deserts the sorceress for Creusa, beautiful daughter of the Corinthian King Creon, who, making her leave her children behind, banishes Medea from Corinth, thereby facilitating Jason’s affair with Creusa, who is, in turn, being pursued by Orontes, Prince of Argos.

Widely neglected, I say (the opera was not even revived after its initial run at the Paris Opéra), but unjustly so, witness a remarkable complete recording by William Christie in Paris in 1994, with Mark Padmore as Jason and the late Lorraine Hunt fabulous as Médée (Erato 4509-96558-2), and now David McVicar’s engrossing (although incomplete – the Prologue is omitted) staging in English for ENO.

If you’re familiar with his Glyndebourne production of Giulio Cesare from 2005 – you may have caught it in the cinema as part of the recent Glyndebourne touring season – you would recognise some of the dance moves. For all its chilling denouement, McVicar’s Medea has glamour and glitz, models and dancing girls –and a lot more humour than you might anticipate. And, in the central role, a towering performance which succeeds in evoking remarkable sympathy for one who, as part of her revenge, will slaughter her own terrified children before the night is out.

McVicar has repositioned Greek legend in World War II. When Orontes (a Biggles lookalike) stages a cabaret to illustrate the sincerity of his passion for Creusa, his Cupid’s chariot is a World War II Spitfire, replete with leggy models. McVicar has a field day.

His cast is a strong one, and there are memorable exchanges – an intense duet between Connolly and Brindley Sherratt as the Corinthian King Creon, then the gorgeous duet between Jason (American tenor Jeffrey Francis, making his ENO debut) and the lovely Creusa (Katherine Manley) – and scenes that will live long in the memory. When Connolly’s Medea cuts her arms in six incisions with a knife, the blood flowing freely, I found myself instinctively looking away. Connolly never flinched. Again, when she summons Medea’s powers to unleash the spirits of Jealousy and Vengeance – war-weary soldiers and the essence of evil – the impact is overwhelming.

This is Connolly’s show, but the whole is lovingly directed from the pit by Christian Curnyn, whose deep affection for Charpentier’s remarkably inventive score is self-evident (he proved the point by bringing the score itself on stage with him when he took his bow). Charpentier was way ahead of his time, using rich dissonant harmonies a world away from the music of Lully, who had held sway in France for much of the 17th century. When Rameau died in 1764, the Mercure de France wrote of him, ‘Here lies the God of Harmony’. But Charpentier got there first!

English National Opera's Medea runs until March 16, 2013. For full details visit the ENO website.