When this staging was presented in 1992, in various theatres, Gardiner decided to be his own director because he didn’t trust any available alternative to be faithful to Da Ponte’s and Mozart’s original. In the circumstances his was a sensible decision because his deeply discerning stage interpretation perfectly seconds his own musically perceptive reading. His keen understanding of what this endlessly fascinating work is about is made plain in his absorbing essay included in the booklet, which also accompanied the Laserdisc/VHS version in 1994 and its CD equivalent, although the latter derives from a different studio performance employing a different Don Alfonso.

The first advantage of this film of the opera is Carlo Tommasi’s ravishing decor that accords with what the libretto predicates, conjuring before our eyes 18th-century Naples overlooked by Vesuvius. Then Gardiner’s direction makes all-too-clear the emotional turmoil engineered by Don Alfonso’s cynical plans to test the ladies’ constancy. At all times it is responsive to the music, except when members of the cast march through the stalls and when certain scenes are more sexually explicit than would have been contemplated in Mozart’s age. These hardly matter when so much of the score is underlined with such understanding as regards the participants’ thoughts and feelings.

All the principals are roughly the right age for their roles. Amanda Roocroft’s Fiordiligi is intrepidly sung, her tone always firm and gleaming, and she acts expressively. She is partnered, as originally intended, by a soprano Dorabella. Rosa Mannion proves an apt foil for her sister, and is deliciously flighty when falling for her ‘Albanian’ lover. Incidentally, she is naughtily allowed by Gardiner to take over a couple of phrases from Fiordiligi in ‘Come scoglio’ as if to underline sisterly unity in the face of male intrusion into their grief. Her singing is strong and true.

Rainer Trost is the young, fluent, eager Ferrando who makes the most of his taxing music, although his second aria, ‘Ah! lo veggio’, is here excluded; it is there in the CD version. His vulnerable portrayal is a nice contrast to Rodney Gilfry’s macho Guglielmo. The four voices blend well in the many ensembles. Eirian James is a sparky, street-wise Despina, Claudio Nicolai a laid-back, suave Alfonso who obviously knows a thing or two about his friends’ motives. Both are well-integrated into the action.

In the pit, Gardiner’s direct, big-scale yet sensitive conducting is the engine-room of the performance, superbly sustained by his period-instrument band. Peter Mumford’s video direction is faultless; so is the sound picture. All in all, it would be amazing if any successor surpasses this DVD’s achievements on all sides. I recommend it without reservation.