This Salzburg Tito is a very mixed bag, but happily the 
                  good is very good. The production uses the vast spaces of the 
                  Felsenreitschule in a way that almost mirrors the arcades which 
                  have been dug out of the original rock. The set consists of 
                  a vast open series of rooms. To call it a doll’s-house 
                  effect is to cheapen it, but that’s the closest idea. 
                  The characters move around the various rooms and different scenes 
                  are enacted in each, the largest and most important being the 
                  central one on the ground floor. This is both a blessing and 
                  a curse, though: it allows the action to unfold in distinct 
                  spaces for each scene, but a TV screen doesn’t give the 
                  freedom of the eye that the original audience would have had 
                  and so the sense of the intimate occurring within a vast scale 
                  is almost always lost. The best scenes are the finales of both 
                  acts which require a good deal of action taking place in various 
                  places at once, however the more intimate scenes are sometimes 
                  lost by characters interacting with each other between two different 
                  rooms. Martin Kušej is good at directing his actors and 
                  the interaction between the characters is nearly always interesting 
                  to watch, even though there are various occasions when they 
                  seem to be acting bizarrely to no obvious purpose. Most puzzling 
                  is his treatment of Tito himself who, for most of the opera, 
                  acts with the convulsions of a lunatic, suggesting the madness 
                  of Nero rather than the godly clemency of Titus. The crowd scenes 
                  also involve extraneous props and actions which were lost on 
                  me. 
                    
                  Happily, however, the musical values are what really make this 
                  set work. Harnoncourt conducts without the contrary wilfulness 
                  that can sometimes mar his performances - and which get somewhat 
                  in the way of his Zurich recording of Tito on Teldec. 
                  Here he is content to wallow in his own way but he never becomes 
                  self-indulgent and he is helped by knock-out-fantastic orchestral 
                  playing from the Vienna Philharmonic. Their always excellent 
                  musicianship sounds fantastic in this acoustic and the solo 
                  clarinet in Parto, parto is perhaps the finest I have 
                  ever heard - you can forgive the occasional hootiness of the 
                  basset-horn in Non piu di fiori. The team work together 
                  most brilliantly in the finale to Act 1, paced like a psychological 
                  thriller and played with hair-raising dramatic instincts. 
                    
                  Furthermore, Harnoncourt’s singers are outstanding. Michael 
                  Schade’s Tito is good: vulnerable and sensitive rather 
                  than noble and heroic. However, the real standout is Dorothea 
                  Röschmann’s Vitellia which is quite the finest assumption 
                  of this role I have heard. She treads the line between ice-cold 
                  manipulator and sexy vamp to perfection, using her voice to 
                  colour every phrase with outstanding beauty. She shows her iron-clad 
                  control over Sesto in the opening scene but gives way to abject 
                  panic by the end of the act. Furthermore she creates a sound 
                  of heart-stopping beauty in her Act 2 Rondo - it’s just 
                  a shame that she is given such daft things to do while she sings 
                  it! Vesselina Kassarova’s is not a voice I love: too often, 
                  for me, she sounds forced and recently she has taken to swallowing 
                  her notes in coloratura in a way that sounds like ghastly yodelling. 
                  With these prejudices I was not expecting to like her here, 
                  but happily my expectations were (mostly) confounded. In fact 
                  she sings with a surprising degree of beauty throughout - her 
                  Act 2 Rondo is outstanding - but it is her characterisation 
                  of Sesto that works best, vulnerable and damaged, always conflicted 
                  and never certain of what to do. The colour of her voice works 
                  well for the male role too, as does the excellent Elina Garanča 
                  as Annio, boyish and energetic as well as singing beautifully. 
                  The Act 1 duet with Servilia is wonderful, but Barbara Bonney 
                  was, frankly too old to be singing this role: she both looks 
                  and sounds too mature. It is all but impossible to turn Publio 
                  into a genuinely sympathetic character, but Luca Pisaroni makes 
                  a better stab at it than many others I’ve seen. 
                    
                  For me, the most obvious competition for this opera on DVD is 
                  Jonathan Miller’s production from Zurich starring Jonas 
                  Kaufmann, Eva Mei and, again, Vesselina Kassarova, conducted 
                  by Franz Welser-Möst on EMI. Singer-for-singer Harnoncourt's 
                  version is finer, but the messy staging means it doesn’t 
                  hold together as well. Miller’s simpler, more rigorous 
                  production works better and he has a great cast who sing with 
                  commitment and often great beauty. The EMI is also significantly 
                  cheaper on one mid-price DVD: for an opera of this length I 
                  seriously question Arthaus’s decision to split it over 
                  two DVDs, especially when there are no extras.   
                  
                  Simon Thompson