Few familiar names are found among the singers and creative team that brought about this distinctive, modern-dress Jen≤fa at Malmö Opera. Yet this tale of the tragically pregnant Jen≤fa – abandoned by her fiancé, scarred by his rival and condemned by her foster mother – is sung with musical and dramatic precision by the kind of tight ensemble not often seen in world-class opera. Voice, theatre and orchestra are all of a piece, revealing powerful undercurrents of sexual shame and religious devotion borne out of fear – a reminder that Jen≤fa is far more than melodrama.

In the spirit of Olivier Tambosi’s production starring Nina Stemme on ArtHaus/TDK – a pruned, contained observation of rural life rather than a depiction of it – Orpha Phelan’s production looks purposely two-dimensional yet remains atmospheric enough that one is never kept at an objective distance. Yet the performance does leave room for the listener to stand back and appreciate how the opera accomplishes what it does, partly because the performance makes its points on details, both psychological and musical. Erika Sunnegårdh is markedly less youthful than Števa (Joachim Bäckström, a pretty boy in a black leather jacket), suggesting that he’d leave even without a scarred cheek. But she is indeed scarred. Amanda Roocroft on Opus Arte gets off with a mild scratch compared to Sunnegårdh’s long, wide wound that leads right up to her eye – a constant reminder of her humiliation.

The fact that Sunnegårdh doesn’t sacrifice vocal accuracy for visceral drama (as does Roocroft) makes you feel her tragedy more strongly because you don’t lose yourself in operatic heat. In contrast to the ageing Wagnerites that usually sing Kostelni∂ka, Gitta-Maria Sjöberg has a clean, mid-weight voice, revealing characterisation details in ways that take you, step by step, through the failed options that lead her to infanticide – the opposite of chilly, remote Deborah Polaski on Opus Arte.

The opera’s problematically tidy ending works beautifully. Almost until the final moment, you’re not sure Jen≤fa will wed Laca, sung with an edge by Daniel Frank in ways that tell you he isn’t entirely reformed. Then, she simply puts her hand on his. I wouldn’t want to be without Stéphane Braunschweig’s spare, stylish Opus Arte DVD. But for an unflinching Jen≤fa, I’ll choose Malmö.