Barrie Kosky's phantasmagorical Fledermaus from Munich

It’s exactly a year since Barrie Kosky’s phantasmagorical staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus swooped into life at the Bayerische Staatsoper - and as it takes flight again in Amsterdam this month, we thought it was high time to revisit the DVD/Blu-ray release (which recently won a Presto Award) as a festive treat.

When the show was about to open last Christmas, a distinctly Gothic trailer featuring creepy animated bats invited us to question what Fledermaus is really about: a champagne-fuelled party, or a society in crisis and the psychology of revenge? Previous experience with the maverick Australian director’s work led me to expect that he would lean hard into the second option, but in fact Kosky plays the work relatively straight (in one sense of the word, at least). Prominent signage in Act One informs us that the Eisensteins live on Vienna’s Judenplatz, which had me wondering if Falke’s humiliation of Gabriel would be rooted in anti-Semitism…but Kosky is master of subverting expectations, and it turns out to be nothing more sinister than a tit-for-tat prank between friends who share a dark sense of humour.

Otto Pichler’s choreography is one of the glories of this show, and it hits the ground running: the Overture becomes an extended ballet, in which a worse-for-wear Eisenstein pieces together the events of the night before whilst Vienna spins around him and dancing bats dog his every wobbly step. Compelling before he even opens his mouth, Georg Nigl is an unexpected but inspired choice for the role. Best known as a marvellously nuanced Lieder-singer and keen exponent of contemporary music, the Austrian baritone’s old-school elegance only adds to the comedy as Eisenstein is dragged wildly beyond his comfort-zone in Acts Two and Three.

In her role-debut as his wife Rosalinde, Diana Damrau brings an ideal mix of bourgeois hauteur, sensuality and theatrical chops - Kosky reminds us that this desperate hausfrau is a former operetta-star herself, so that her show-stopping appearance as the ‘Hungarian’ diva at Orlofsky’s party is not so much a hastily-executed prank as a well-rehearsed comeback-gig. The lower reaches of the voice have filled out of late, although a couple of top notes do go off-piste (to be fair, the high D at the end of the Csárdás is no picnic when being hoisted aloft by a troupe of 'Romani' dancers).

No such issues with Katharina Konradi’s triple-threat Adele, who hits every bullseye going regardless of choreographic demands and brings the house down with her Laughing Song. Sean Panikkar has a ball as the narcissistic tenor Alfred (Rosalinde’s former co-star and lover), belting out snatches of Cavaradossi and Calaf with such aplomb that I longed to hear him in the full roles, whilst Markus Brück is a sonorous Falke with superb comic timing.

Orlofsky’s Act Two bacchanale is the beating heart of Fledermaus, and Kosky is absolutely in his element here: the curtain rises on a dazzling tableau which rivals the opening of his Glyndebourne Saul, with glamour, glitz and gender-fluidity the order of the day. Andrew Watts, resplendent in turquoise maribou and diamante beard, is a wonderful drag-queen Orlofsky, having no trouble with the high tessitura of a role usually assigned to mezzos, and exuding geniality. (The threats in his drinking-song are played tongue-in-cheek, with freedom of choice rather than enforced hedonism the abiding rule here).

There’s no extended gala-scene, but Strauss’s ‘Thunder and Lightning’ polka (thrillingly executed by a corps de ballet in glittery nude body-suits) stops the show, and Falke’s tired-and-emotional hymn to ‘brotherhood’ blossoms into a genuinely moving paean to tolerance and inclusivity which brought a lump to my throat. Heavy on dialogue and short on tunes, the third act of Fledermaus (which sees the principals banged up in prison) can sag: not so here, thanks to Max Pollak’s extraordinary tap-dance-and-body-percussion routine as the jailer Frosch, and Martin Winkler’s grotesque antics as prison governor Frank.

Vladimir Jurowski conducts with the surest of hands, bringing plenty of fizz with the occasional welcome dash of darkness, and stretching the waltz-rhythms to appropriately off-kilter effect in the party-scene. All in all, it’s a triumph – treat yourself.