‘World Premiere on Video’, proclaims the cover, which is I suppose strictly true, but one shouldn’t get too excited. What we have here is Un ballo in maschera as we largely know it, but with text for the original Gustavo III (which fell foul of the censors first in Naples and then in Rome) superimposed on to the final score. As Roberto Abbado notes in a booklet interview, others have performed the opera with the original names and location (the 18th-century Royal Swedish court as opposed to Boston) and with only minor textual alterations, but not with the whole of the original libretto.

Only the most alert Verdians are likely to catch all the differences between original and revision – a few more obvious instances notwithstanding – but it’s fascinating to have an opportunity to do so. And the production, credited to Jacopi Spirei based ‘on a project by [the late] Graham Vick’, is also tailored to the original text, not only in the predominantly black period costumes but in the fact that a series of male extras adds an atmosphere of sexual ambiguity; as the booklet also tells us, Gustavus III was likely homosexual, despite having been forced into an arranged marriage.

These extras serve largely to distract – not always a welcome distraction, it must be said – from what’s essentially a straightforward telling of the story within Richard Hudson’s single set: a black-marble tomb with winged male figure dominates on a revolve surrounded by a semicircular wall with various doors, the chorus arrayed along a gallery above. It is strikingly lit by Giuseppe di Iorio and I found myself enjoying it more than I initially expected.

But what really makes this release so recommendable is a cast that would grace the stage of any major opera house. Piero Pretti is ideal as Gustavo, the voice on the light side but beautifully focused and employed with oodles of elegance and charm – a lovely performance. Anna Pirozzi’s Amelia is superb, too. Dramatically she might seem like a hangover from an earlier age (witness the melodramatic hanky-waving in Act 2), but there’s no denying the honesty of the performance or the quality of the singing: beautifully elegant and stylish, and with a voice that, though less generous than other Amelias on disc, has a welcome old-school Italianate timbre and character.

The Mongolian baritone Amartuvshin Enkhbat – the name might ring a bell from the 2015 Cardiff Singer of the World final – is a revelation as Anckarstroem, bringing beautifully smooth, oaky timbre and impeccable style to Verdi’s lines. Anna Maria Chiuri clearly enjoys herself as Ulrica, and Giuliana Gianfaldoni is a sparky, eminently watchable Oscar.

There are times when Abbado could allow a bit more time but generally he paces the score beautifully, and while the Filarmonica Arturo Toscanini have moments of thinness, they play with real spirit and verve. All in all, a fine performance that can be heartily recommended.