Here we go again. Sven-Eric Bechtolf is another theatre director who doesn’t understand Così fan tutte. Correction: he understands it all right, but prefers to ignore both the premise and the conclusion of the opera. It’s a comedy, for heaven’s sake! Don Alfonso sets out to strip the two officers of their illusions; the girls fall in love with the disguised boys, but not vice versa; the status quo is restored, and all sing in praise of reason. The diamond-hard scepticism of da Ponte’s libretto is transmuted into gold by the music: as Bechtolf writes in the booklet-note, Mozart ‘identifies with all the emotions aroused within his protagonists’. But in his production, Fiordiligi pairs off with Ferrando, Guglielmo rejects Dorabella, and Alfonso accidentally – and fatally – drinks poison.

That said, this is well worth seeing. Rolf Glittenberg’s set is a conservatory, full of potted trees. The two girls are tellingly dressed by Marianne Glittenberg in near-identical costumes, as are their lovers. There is much snooping: the men observe the sisters soaping each other in the bath, the officers eavesdrop on Alfonso breaking the news of their imminent departure. Alfonso and Despina witness the stilted conversation about the weather. If we are to infer that Fiordiligi – more eavesdropping – recognises Guglielmo at the end of ‘Il core vi dono’, the idea is not taken any further.

It is all beautifully performed by a convincingly young-looking cast. Malin Hartelius sings a ravishing ‘Per pietà’, complemented by a heart-stopping pianissimo at the third iteration of the clarinet’s B major phrase. Martin Mitterrutzner’s free, easy tenor is just right for the high-lying part of Ferrando. Despina’s ‘In uomini’ and Guglielmo’s ‘Donne mie’ are angry and serious respectively: misconceived, but done well by Martina Jankovà and Luca Pisaroni. Gerald Finley is a wryly humorous Alfonso. Under Christoph Eschenbach, the Vienna Philharmonic is admirably light on its feet.

Pisaroni turns up again as a first-rate Leporello in Don Giovanni, produced last year with the same conductor, director and designers. The setting is a hotel lobby, with a bar to one side. Leporello is lounging, cigar and wine at hand, while Giovanni is with Donna Anna upstairs. When the Commendatore appears, it’s actually Anna who stabs him – Giovanni’s hand on hers – with the kitchen knife with which she had defended herself. (This is easy to miss, but play it in slow motion.) Bechtolf is very good at bringing out Anna’s obsession with her father. In ‘Non mi dir’ she cradles the Commendatore’s bust (which does duty for the statue) before kissing it at the end. Lenneke Ruiten sings it well, the coloratura not taken too fast; as so often, one does wonder why Don Ottavio puts up with such a pain in the neck.

Donna Elvira is equally obsessed, but with Giovanni: she hugs and kisses him even while storming at him for abandoning her. At the end she is already dressed in a nun’s habit, ready for the convent. Eschenbach takes ‘Mi tradì’ fast, enabling Anett Fritsch to sing the long phrases with perfect control. Valentina Naforni¬a is a charming Zerlina, stripping off for Masetto in ‘Vedrai, carino’. The standard composite version is performed: Andrew Staples sings Ottavio’s arias with fluency and grace. Ildebrando D’Arcangelo is Don Giovanni to the life: romantic, insouciant, courageous. During the final sextet he rises, touches or kisses all the others except Masetto, and pursues a maid into the wings. Excellent support, as in Così, from conductor and orchestra.

Don Giovanni is given twice, the second version intercut with offstage activity and not terribly illuminating interviews. I enjoyed both of these productions; but for more traditional versions, try Nicholas Hytner’s Così from Glyndebourne (Opus Arte) and Francesca Zambello’s Don Giovanni from Covent Garden (Opus Arte, 7/09).