Il viaggio a Reims was the Théâtre Italien’s offering to the celebrations surrounding the coronation of Charles X in the summer of 1825, a showcase for Italian music-making in Paris. Since the Russians later supplanted the Italians as purveyors of high-class art to the French, there is something apt about this Russian revival of Il viaggio in Paris’s Théâtre du Châtelet. A stylishly designed concert in costume, it is a latter-day showcase for the rising stars of the Academy of St Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theatre.

The orchestral players are seated at the rear of the stage. Decked out in cream-coloured evening attire, they make an effective backdrop to the primary colours of Mireille Dessingy’s haute couture costumes. Events, such as they are, are mainly played out along the front of the stage and on a T-shaped catwalk that extends into the auditorium. Since this is not a full-blown theatre staging, there is no grand visual display in the closing scene.

The opening sequence is unpromising. The staging is aimless and the words of the hotel housekeeper, delivered from a stage box, are inaudible because the sound engineer has omitted to provide her with a microphone. Things improve as the cast warms to its task and individual singers begin to catch the eye and the ear. The staging, however, continues to be variable. Don Profondo’s catalogue aria manages to be both messy and dull, yet the duet between Count Libenskof and Belfiore is a delight. Corinna and her harp are awkwardly separated but the idea of having the solo flautist playing alongside the diffident Lord Sidney dressed as a silver-clad Rosenkavalier is an inspired one. Gergiev conducts in a brown racing trilby. The reading is exquisitely paced, the ensemble work often stunningly good, remarkably so given the fact that conductor and orchestra are behind the singers.

There is no attempt here to adapt the tributes to Charles X to latter-day political concerns, let alone rewrite the end as Dario Fo did – cruelly, wittily, timelessly – in his famous Helsinki production. The Russians play the score as written, a number of small cuts notwithstanding.