My viewing completed, I thought to myself: this has to be the greatest religious work of them all. The ultimate accolade, you might say: the performance has done its job, and I am duly uplifted. As the conductor John Nelson suggests in a frank and engaging interview with Stephen Wright, the Missa solemnis is the work of a man who truly believed, though the precise manner of that belief is of secondary importance. Right from the first bars of the Kyrie you can tell that interpretational fervour is a high priority, a hunch that is magnificently borne out by the fiery Gloria, where the incisive cut and thrust of the Gulbenkian Choir’s singing is matched by an equally intense contribution from the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. Tempi throughout are, where appropriate, swift but never reckless (the latter part of the Gloria is a fair case in point), and the ominous premonitions of war that cast blood-edged clouds over parts of the Agnus Dei are darkly thrilling, the timps in particular (Robert Kendell) battling away as if rallying the dead.

John Nelson understands the paradoxes and contradictions that sit at the heart of this piece: like so much late Beethoven, questions are posed but rarely answered, and those that are invariably have a further question buried somewhere within them. There are one or two minor editorial changes, always undertaken with due care over the relevant textual context; Nelson uses horns with valves but (natural) trumpets without them. The soloists are all excellent: soprano Tamara Wilson is on especially good form and in addition to the interview with Nelson there’s another with Peter Readman, chairman of the COE, which is in effect an oral potted history of the orchestra. Camera shots are informative but never intrusive and the sound gets its message across without strain. So, if you’re after a fine Missa on screen, look no further.