It is good to see Death in Venice making its way around Europe after a lengthy period of neglect following Britten’s death. This production by the German director Willy Decker comes live from the Teatro Real in Madrid, though it had already been seen a few years earlier in Barcelona.

As his previous productions of Peter Grimes and Billy Budd had shown, Decker sees Britten’s operas in stylised terms. This suits Death in Venice better than some of the others, not least thanks to the symbolism written into the libretto by Myfanwy Piper, from the multiple nemesis characters played by the baritone to Venice itself, alluring in its beauty, deadly with the threat of cholera.

The staging is intelligent, spare, rather dark. A few scenes capture Venice’s fatally sweet mystery, notably the lagoon ride in a gondola like a giant coffin, but for the most part Decker’s imagery is focused on probing symbolic figures of death and sexuality. He suggests that Aschenbach and his sevenfold nemesis are different sides of one person, which is not a new idea, but does break new ground in how far he is ready to bring the story’s sexual undercurrent to the surface. At one point Aschenbach imagines himself kissing Tadzio and later dancing with him naked. This does not leave much to the imagination and Britten would surely have been horrified by it.

John Daszak comes to the role of Aschenbach with more voice than most of his predecessors. He is dignified and unexaggerated in his portrayal, perhaps even a touch over-formal, and he cannot equal Peter Pears’s liquid legato in the lyrical passages. Leigh Melrose, given the look of a satyr, offers vivid characterisations in the nemesis roles, though he has been encouraged to overplay the fop and, en travesti, the leader of the players. Anthony Roth Costanzo sings a suitably ethereal Apollo and Tomasz Borczyk, sporting a scallywag’s scarecrow haircut, is a native Polish Tadzio.

Unfortunately, the musical performance under conductor Alejo Pérez sometimes holds fire and the Orchestra of the Teatro Real, at least as recorded here, sound rather wan and grey. There is also some trimming of the Evangelist-like recitatives.

There is some strong competition. Either of the DVDs from La Fenice or English National Opera is preferable. Both offer high levels of visual beauty, with Italian style in the first case and exceptional lighting in the latter. Throw in Edward Gardner’s compelling musical grip at ENO and the Opus Arte disc is a clear winner.