Here is a deeply impressive account of Verdi’s final tragedy to challenge the authority of the recently released version conducted by Riccardo Muti. That one was recorded at La Scala at the end of 2001. This derives from the Metropolitan in 1995. Both were new stagings in their respective houses; both by British directors, Graham Vick at La Scala, Elijah Moshinsky at the Met.

Moshinsky’s production, not unlike his earlier effort at Covent Garden in 1987, is expertly directed in traditional, decorative sets; those in New York are inevitably more lavish and grander in scale. They work well enough, but Vick’s set is more imaginative and serves the drama more surely. Similarly, Moshinsky encourages his star singers to go beyond what they usually achieve, but Vick improves even on that with some arresting images based on a more psychological approach.

As the Moor, Plácido Domingo is common to both. Much as I admired his richly detailed, mature performance for Vick, in 1995 he was fresher in voice and slimmer in looks, and – superbly dressed by Peter J Hall – he is every inch the Venetian general. Can anyone have matched his heroic delivery, his frightening mien when deluded or his devastation when the truth is revealed? Every part of his face and body seems involved in this arresting portrayal, more searing even than his other Otellos in sound or on film.

Renée Fleming and James Morris, new to their roles at the time, cannot match Domingo’s all-round experience, but in their different ways both do well. Fleming, dressed and coiffured too lavishly, at first seems nervous and unable to find the depths of expression plumbed at La Scala by Barbara Frittoli, but in the Act 3 duet she comes alive and projects all Desdemona’s distress in her eyes and her voice, although she doesn’t equal Frittoli’s personal chemistry with Domingo. Desdemona’s vulnerability and concern in her fourth-act scene is revealed with a poignant directness unusual for this singer.

Morris gives us an interesting, unusual Iago. Here is a plausibly upright, tall courtier and confidant who knows precisely how to manipulate Otello’s simpler personality, and does so with subtlety, albeit without authentically Italianate tone. Morris has taken the trouble to look at Boito’s text and Verdi’s markings in detail and that always pays off, especially in the Dream.

James Levine, who conducted Domingo’s first Otello on record in the 1970s, has lost none of his ability to combine histrionic directness with a keen sensibility for the inner workings of a score he obviously loves, and his orchestra respond with dedicated playing. His choice of singers for lesser roles shows an understandable loyalty to house singers, but frankly Charles Anthony is now too mature and too dry in voice to sing Roderigo. By contrast, Richard Croft is a properly insouciant Cassio.

It is unfortunate that US-produced DVDs are not in widescreen format, and the sound quality is a bit variable. Brian Large’s video direction is skilful, but here I thought there were too many unflattering close-ups. That said, this is a version to recommend alongside the one from La Scala.