Claudio Abbado’s youthful Beatle­cut marks the age of this film‚ still one of the better screen Barbieres if not absolutely the best. Jean­Pierre Ponnelle based it on his Scala stagings‚ but filmed it‚ as he always preferred‚ in studio and in lip­sync – more successfully than most. As a result‚ it looks and sounds very much fresher on DVD than contemp­orary videotapes. The cast reproduces that of Abbado’s 1972 CD recording‚ but with La Scala forces; and a very strong cast it is‚ in which Stefania Malagù’s Berta and even Luigi Roni’s policeman make real impressions. Teresa Berganza‚ often rather unexciting in sound alone‚ reveals a charming presence here‚ only a shade mature for a role she had sung since the 1950s. In the manner of that era (which thought Callas too strident) her Rosina is coquette rather than minx‚ but with her slightly resinous tone and sensuous delivery ‘Contro il cor’ is irresistible. One would never guess Luigi Alva had been singing Almaviva for just as long‚ still youthful­looking‚ honeyed and elegant‚ even if his heavily aspirated ornament – the ‘ha­ha’ effect – would not be acceptable today. Hermann Prey has everything a good Figaro needs‚ but despite his warmly incisive baritone and cheerfully egocentric‚ athletic characterisation (Douglas Fairbanks Snr‚ even to the pencil moustache!) he simply isn’t idiomatic enough. Paolo Montarsolo’s giant gawk of a Basilio is vocally idiomatic‚ but his mugging‚ mowing characterisation is sheer Parma ham‚ faintly rancid. Enzo Dara’s pompous‚ foppish little Bartolo is much more amusingly observed and richly sung‚ but he suffers unduly from the film’s major drawback‚ the direction. Ponnelle feels obliged to reinforce the comedy with a barrage of ingenious but spurious ‘business’‚ such as Basilio’s alchemical explosions‚ and choppy editing‚ often subverting the orchestral detail which Abbado points up with characteristic but lively care. The overall effect is enjoyable but overdone‚ more fun than Hampe’s straight­faced rendering but no substitute for the confidence in Rossini evident in John Cox’s Glyndebourne production – with the sparkling Maria Ewing and John Rawnsley’s oily rogue of a Figaro – now overdue for a DVD appearance.