Scottish Opera kicks off its concert performance season of lesser-known operas with Puccini’s second composition Edgar, yet another rip-roaring tale of love, jealousy and sword-play. Er, not …

Forget the synopsis. The backstory, as revealed by the supertitles, tells of an abandoned baby girl Tigrana, fostered by the mother of Edgar and Frank. Fifteen years later, it is apparent that the brothers have groomed the sexually precocious teenager. Village girl Fidelia is in love with Edgar who, at the very least, has anger management issues; he torches the family home and runs off with Tigrana.

In time he gets fed up with her and fantasises about Fidelia so, when his brother passes with a platoon, he joins up. The brothers fake his death so he can escape Tigrana, and Edgar, disguised as a friar, far from eulogising at the funeral, fills in the details of Edgar’s inglorious past – hinting at more than one murder and confirming treachery.  He unmasks himself and seems set to be happy ever after with Fidelia, when (the still teenage) Tigrana grabs Frank’s sword and kills her.

In his brief introduction to the work, conductor Gianluca Marciano said that you can already hear the later operas in Edgar, and it is true, right from the first bar. The music is rich and varied, with good choruses – the Scottish Opera Young Company augmenting the Scottish Opera Chorus – as well as the arias. The double act of Frank and Friar/Edgar at Edgar’s graveside, taunting and tempting Tigrana with jewels is cleverly done by Puccini, and well-sung by David Stout and Peter Auty, respectively, with Justina Gringytè eventually giving into the lure of a pearl necklace.

Auty is excellent as Edgar, portraying a man who, seen with twenty-first century eyes, might well have mental health problems, whereas the nineteenth century saw only melodrama. Whether he could ever really have been happy with Fidelia is questionable, but Claire Rutter certainly convinces that she thinks so.  Tigrana is a real meaty mezzo part and Gringytè relishes it. Her mobile face is never in repose, and her eyes are forever darting about. It’s a bit Carmen-ish, and then you remember her troubled past.

Frank is the straight guy – one wonders how he survived his upbringing apparently intact. David Stout plays him with just enough nonchalance to bring out the contrast with the others’ emoting.  Richard Wiegold sings Gualtiero, Fidelia’s father, who completes the powerful quintet towards the end of Act 1.

It is a powerful performance all round and, although the staging by director Roxana Haines is minimal – some roses and almond blossoms twisted round the rostrum, the bright blue of Fidelia’s pashmina matching the ties of Frank and Gualtiero – it is sufficient to raise doubts whether Puccini’s low estimation of his work was entirely fair.