Richard Strauss’s Salome may not be everyone’s idea of a comic opera but, stripped of set and other appurtenances of a fully-stage performance, it becomes clearer just how funny it is.

Basically, Salome is a teenage minx, and Malin Byström plays her to the hilt. She falls for the sound of Jokanaan’s voice in much the same way a girl might obsess over actor, rock or sports star. When she cons Narraboth, who is besotted with her, into letting her see Jokanaan in his dungeon, she spouts infatuated drivel born of an overwrought imagination and half-digested Song of Songs.

Even if he were not a Man of God, a Voice crying in the Wilderness et cetera, Jokanaan would be telling her to get a grip and not talk rot. As it is, Johan Reuter does a good line in outrage, nicely balanced with self-righteousness.

Meanwhile, back with Herod and Herodias, there is a very funny theological dispute amongst the Jews, which begins to bore Herod so, in an effort to change the subject, he asks Salome to dance for him. Her mother Herodias considers Herod’s interest in her daughter deeply inappropriate but, since Herod entreats his step-daughter with offers of whatever she wants, we can see the wheels go round in her mind and she finally agrees. Just as well Narraboth topped himself; it would have been too much anguish for Bror Magnus Tødenes’ sensitive soul.

Dance over, when Salome makes her butter-wouldn’t-melt demand, Katarina Delayman is excellent as a mother TOTALLY misreading her teenage daughter AND being utterly self-centred; you can see where Salome got it from.

The leching, leering, wheedling, hallucinating Herod is smarmily sung by Gerhard Siegel, but he really is not up to dealing with foot-stampingly difficult teenagers and drops himself quite remarkably in the proverbial ‘it’; the daggers look from Herodias when Herod offers  and enumerates to Salome ‘jewels Herodias hasn’t seen’ is a joy to behold.

At last, with the head she desires, Salome can fondle it and kiss it as much as she wants, rejoicing in her power - She said it. She did it. – and the teenage-y put-down, ‘You’ve seen God, but you’ve never seen me.’ Byström fondles, caresses the words as she sings them, relishing the opportunity to kiss him full on the mouth – a word Salome seems particularly fond of.

Despite her ecstatic triumph being undercut by Herod’s vengeful pronouncement ‘Kill that woman’, we reckon she’ll win the soldiers round, and even win round Herod in the end.

Edward Gardner conducts the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra with verve. As well as great washes of sound almost overwhelming our senses, there are touches of sweetness and delicacy and a dance of the seven veils that begins in languorous sensuousness before sweeping us into a vortex where we lose track of time.

This performance gives us a Scandi noir that leaves us wanting to know what happens in the next episode.