The first time I saw Figaro was in Vienna on September 1, 1964, the first night of the new season. As Josef Krips made his way to the rostrum, there was – according to a friend sitting nearby – a shout from the auditorium of ‘Hoch Karajan!’ Herbert von Karajan had resigned in May as artistic director of the State Opera after a spectacular falling-out with Egon Hilbert, his administrative co-director. It was a typically Viennese scandal. Karajan vowed never to return. But return he did in May 1977, with three operas including this five-year-old production by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle from the Salzburg Festival.

The expectations and the tension must have been high but, apart from an early entry from Jules Bastin in ‘La vendetta’, there’s no sign of nerves. Karajan inclines to fast tempi but he never drives too hard and he will surprise you now and then by taking a more measured approach, as in Cherubino’s ‘Non so più’ and the Count’s ‘Vedrò, mentr’io sospiro’. He underplays the moment when Figaro outfaces his master in the Act 2 Finale but the mezza voce that follows is spot-on; there’s a similar surefootedness after Figaro has been slapped by Susanna in the sextet. In ‘Aprite, presto aprite’ Karajan gets the merest whisper from the strings while Susanna and Cherubino are paralysed, incapable of action till the final crescendo – brilliant.

José van Dam comes across as a serious Figaro: quick-witted in the early part of the opera but showing real anger as early as ‘Se a casa madama’ and real heartbreak when he thinks that Susanna is deceiving him. Susanna herself, even more resourceful than her husband-to-be, is enchantingly played by Ileana Cotrubas: the smile in her voice as she dresses Cherubino in women’s clothes is irresistible. Frederica von Stade is perfect as the page: a ravishing diminuendo on the held note in ‘Non so più’ and a forthright, confident ‘Voi che sapete’.

Things are not quite as impressive above stairs. Anna Tomowa-Sintow starts ‘Porgi amor’ a little shakily but soon rallies. The reprise of ‘Dove sono’ is delicate but not heart-stopping. Tom Krause, like van Dam a veteran of this production, is formidable in his accompanied recitative and aria but fudges the triplets and the trills. Don Curzio doesn’t stammer; the Raeburn/Moberly reordering of Act 3 is adopted; the arias for Marcellina and Don Basilio are omitted; applause is included. Karajan in the spring, and Karl Böhm returning with Die Frau ohne Schatten in the autumn: Vienna was the place to be that year.