A thoroughly schizophrenic Seraglio. It’s well recorded and musically excellent‚ with Zagrosek (known to British audiences from his stint at the BBC Symphony) conducting a fresh‚ theatrically paced performance which emphasises the score’s warm lyricism and favours his singers. An excellent cast they are‚ appropriately young and stylish‚ even to the occasional appoggiatura. Naglestad is an ideal Konstanze‚ clear­voiced yet passionate‚ with tautly controlled coloratura. Klink’s Belmonte is equally fine‚ mellifluous and hardly stressed even by the runs of ‘Ich baue ganz’. Ladner’s Blonde is an archetypal bright­voiced soubrette‚ Göhrig an adequate Pedrillo and Bracht a splendidly bluff Osmin‚ largely free of the unsteadiness which sometimes affects his lower register. So far‚ so good; but producer Hans Neuenfels sets out ‘to turn the naive story into a dramatically credible production’. His method of doing so is to double every role except Pasha Selim – here a flasher and knife­wielding rapist who quotes Mörike – with actor counterparts‚ who interact with‚ even hit or grope their alter egos. As Opernwelt’s critic‚ quoted in the otherwise skimpy sleeve­notes‚ puts it: ‘They dispute with themselves in twos‚ creating many wonderful moments of existential enigma’. To the less enlightened this may appear like confusion‚ especially as Neuenfels also lards the action with obligatory shock effects (a tattooed Osmin crooning ‘Wer ein Liebchen hat gefunden’ to gory female body parts‚ the Janissaries waving impaled babies) and ‘lumpen’ symbolism such as a half­naked child confronting Konstanze with serpent and apple. If you believe Seraglio is enhanced by existential enigmas‚ this may intrigue. Newcomers‚ despite optional subtitles and resumés‚ may be baffled. I doubt whether it will bear repeated viewing.