Though the emotional temperature of this Marriage of Figaro video runs high, warming up to it may take a while. From the first notes of the overture, Jesús López Cobos isn’t my first choice for navigating the nimble dramaturgy of Mozart’s intricate comedy about 18th-century servants and masters. His approach is that of a generalist that, to these ears, can come off as being neither here nor there. Yet, as the performance unfolds with medium-weight voices that sometimes have pitch-intrusive vibratos, one slowly realises that this performance doesn’t play by the same rules as its elegant Glyndebourne counterparts or its stylish Salzburg cousins.

This is Mediterranean Mozart, bigger in sound, more emotionally extravagant in manner and somewhat less refined on nearly every level. Wigs are tall and puffy; female cleavage is ample. The traditional 18th-century period sets have expansive 40-foot ceilings, natural light sources and a physical depth that allows director Emilio Sagi to have non-singing characters (mostly servants) gambolling in the background. They provide an extra degree of realistic atmosphere to the opera’s world and, in the less dramatically integrated arias, give the characters somebody to sing to.

In the best moments, all of these elements conspire in ways that allow you to enter the looking glass, so to speak, with an extra level of involvement. You’re not witnessing an opera performance but a mutation of real life. The loneliness of the Countess, so powerfully projected by Barbara Frittoli, becomes so contagious that you feel how torn she must be when resisting Cherubino – particularly in Act 2 when Cherubino brazenly presents his physical self before being disguised as a woman. Thus, the Count/Countess confrontation during the Act 2 finale has particularly intense underpinning with a nascent brutality projected by Ludovic Tézier: the contrast with Cherubino’s romantic naivety shows what a wreck their marriage has become and sets up a powerful resolution in Act 4. In other moments, though, director Sagi enjoys reminding you that this is indeed theatre, such as in the last act, when Figaro ducks a descending scrim so that he can address the audience directly.

Vocally, Pisaroni is the most Mozartian of the cast, though it’s hard to recommend this set on his account since he is in at least two other Figaro DVDs. And his performance here shows why his Figaro is getting around: he vividly projects the character’s inner life, both vocally and theatrically, without any musical distortion. On that front, one might initially rebel against a Verdian such as Frittoli as the Countess, and perhaps more so with Susanna played by Isabel Rey, who looks and sounds a bit older than the Countess. However, both singers have such a warm presence and are so theatrically genuine, I was won over. Though Marina Comparato is a theatrically winning Cherubino, she’s the one singer whose vocal line just isn’t clean enough for the character’s open-hearted music. One surprising accomplishment, though, is Jeannette Fischer’s Marcellina: it’s hard for this character to be anything but ridiculous and, with her frizzy wig here, this one shouldn’t be any exception. Yet, time and again, you want Fischer to get what she wants. How often does that happen?