THIS Royal Opera House production, marking Beethoven’s 250th birthday and with award-winning director Tobias Kratzer making his ROH debut, has been eagerly anticipated.  

Kratzer believes that 18th and 19th-century composers would habitually locate their operas in exotic places in order to comment on contemporary events and, in setting this Fidelio in post-revolutionary France, he returns “what the censorship had abolished.”

An appropriate move, given that current events in France seem largely unreported outside that country.

Like most operas, the plot of Fidelio can’t be accused of hyper-realism. Florestan (Jonas Kaufmann) is widely believed to be dead but his wife Leonore (Lise Davidsen), planning to rescue her husband, disguises herself as a boy and, assuming the name Fidelio, works under Rocco the gaoler (Georg Zeppenfeld).

Rocco’s daughter Marzelline (Amanda Forsythe) falls in love with Fidelio and, to compound matters, the evil Don Pizzaro (Simon Neal) plots to kill Florestan and instructs Rocco to dig his grave. Little does he know of Leonore's plans.

Kratzer’s production takes the period very seriously, with a set by Rainer Sellmaier that is stark and brooding. But the humour and nuance of the piece is lost due to poor story-telling, and it's during the spoken dialogue sequences that the lack of character development becomes evident.

The energy of Forsythe's considered Marzelline is not reciprocated by Zeppenfeld as Rocco or Robin Tischler as Jaquino.  In truth, one struggles to hear the act-one duets over Anthony Pappano’s charged and excitable conducting.

Neal plays a subtle and insecure villain at home in a politically charged post-revolutionary France, but his performance is undercut by an incongruously hackneyed entrance on horseback. Later, for absolutely no reason, he crushes a budgie with his bare hands — pantomime stuff that patronises Beethoven’s opera.

The obnoxious booing that Kratzer received at the curtain call was probably due to the second act, which can best be described as a brave experiment in linking the historic to the contemporary that sadly fails to deliver.

With a clearly agitprop intention, the production seeks to produce a Brechtian effect on the audience without staying true to the piece. Kaufmann’s Florestan is overshadowed by questionable staging, with the hammy reactions of the choristers, in modern dress, projected onscreen throughout.

It's an admirable and inspired move by Kratzer, which brings the production into the present, reminding us that we all acquiesce to political injustice. But it condescends to the audience and fails to keep faith with the opera.

Yet there are some great moments. Kratzer’s use of imagery, echoing Goya, is acutely emotive and the choreography is always thought-provoking.

Above all, Lise Davidsen is an extraordinary Leonore, overshadowing the rest of the cast in a production which, though imperfect, certainly offers food for thought.

And, of course, the score is magnificent.  

Runs until March 17, with the last performance broadcast live in cinemas, box office: roh.org.uk