This new film of Simon Boccanegra captures what’s only Christian Gerhaher’s second Verdi role (after Posa in Don Carlo) and does so in unusual circumstances. Rehearsals were already under way for Andreas Homoki’s new Zurich Opera production when a new Covid lockdown was announced in Switzerland. The first night went ahead, but in front of a minuscule invited audience – not perceptible at all here – and with orchestra, chorus and conductor confined to a rehearsal space 1km away from the soloists performing on the opera house’s stage.

I’d love to have had a making-of included in this release, or at least some behind-the-scenes footage of how this was done, because it’s a stunning technical feat, and one that works seamlessly – the only hint is the fact that the soloists watch the monitors more closely than otherwise. But it’s also a superb achievement on the part of the director and his team: Covid restrictions are simply subsumed into a compelling vision of Verdi’s dark, brooding masterpiece.

Homoki ostensibly updates the action to 1895 (for the Prologue) and 1920 (for the opera), but he focuses on ‘imaginary realms of memory and longing’ rather than on narrative. Christian Schmidt’s single revolving set, expertly lit by Franck Evin, helps create this space – between reality and reminiscence – featuring a series of grand doors around a central opening through which the cast wind their way. The Council Chamber Scene culminates in a thrilling confrontation between Boccanegra and Paolo alone, while moments that call for physical contact are made all the more powerful by the fact that that physical contact is impossible – practical restrictions are, in this production, movingly transmuted into psychological inability.

Gerhaher speaks fascinatingly about his character in a booklet interview and presents Boccanegra as a nervous, self-questioning Doge: ‘The way he holds office seems like a kind of penitence’, he explains. Vocally, it’s a brilliantly managed performance that plays to the baritone’s strengths: the detailed pointing of text, the clarity of expression and the beauty of tone. It’s a superb portrayal, and one that culminates in a deeply moving final scene, as he walks off with two imagined spectres of his distant, hope-filled past.

There are some fine performances around him, too. Nicholas Brownlee brings biting intensity to Paolo – in telling contrast to Gerhaher’s melancholy urbaneness – and Christof Fischesser is a handsome, resonant Fiesco. Jennifer Rowley gives us an urgent, ably sung Amelia, her rich, slightly plummy soprano negotiating the role’s challenges well. Otar Jorjikia does well as Adorno, too, but has some moments of vocal uncertainty and is the least natural actor.

Presiding over proceedings from afar is conductor Fabio Luisi, who shapes the score lovingly and intelligently, capturing its dark colours beautifully. He also secures powerfully dramatic and transparent playing from Philharmonia Zurich. With sensitive camera direction and excellent sound and picture quality, this is a distinguished release. Highly recommended.