David McVicar’s spellbinding production of Le nozze di Figaro is set in 1830s post-revolution France, where the inexorable unravelling of an old order has produced acute feelings of loss. In the relationship between Finley’s suave, dashingly self-absorbed Count and Röschmann’s passionately dignified Countess, which lies at the tragic heart of the opera, the sexy ease between a feisty Figaro (Erwin Schrott) and a sassy Susanna (Miah Persson) is starkly absent, the tenacious spark between Marcellina (Graciela Araya) and Bartolo (Jonathan Veira) suggesting what might be rekindled.

King David, soldier and poet, was for centuries a figure as attractive to musicians as to artists like the one who sculpted the big unclothed guy in Florence's Uffizi galleries. Benedetto Marcello's settings of the Psalms of David, part of a large collection called the Estro poetico-armonico, were famous during his own lifetime (1686-1739) and beyond, but have been strangely neglected in recent years even as more obscure Baroque repertories have flourished. When they are heard, it is usually because of their exotic Jewish component.

Did the world need to hear Gershwin played by a viol consort, with an occasional recorder tootling along? If so, then why not Purcell accompanied by a jazz piano? The idea of combining the two composers in one performance is an attractive one, and the mix of vocal and instrumental pieces by each composer here is intelligently grouped. Arranger and leader Jay Bernfeld offers several parallels. Both composers were, in the broadest sense, urban sensations and musical-theater composers with bigger things on their minds; both managed to complete one towering opera before dying young. He might have added more items to his list: the ground basses of Purcell's time are elaborated by their melody lines in a manner akin to, if not precisely comparable to, the structure of Gershwin's songs.

In a time when operas are often set to different contexts from the ones they were intended for, a philological production has its merits, representing both a rediscovery and a provocation. This Barbiere di Siviglia, which at first sight might appear old-fashioned, restores, in fact, to perfection the setting of an early 19th-centrury Italian theatre. It was a time when the glorious tradition of popular comedy, a direct descendant of the 16th-century “commedia dell’arte”, was very much alive, and the singers entertained the audience with humor that was direct and catchy.

Carmen, a tempestuous opera written by Georges Bizet, is set in the city of Seville, Spain. Carmen is sexy and capricious, and freely taunts the soldiers around her saying she will love or discard whom she chooses just as she pleases. But, after attacking another woman at the cigarette factory with a knife Carmen has to use her seductive skills on her guard, Don Jose, to escape going to prison. Passion between Don Jose and Carmen, and Escamillo, a celebrated toreador who is infatuated with her, leads to jealousy, violence and death. Rinat Shaham with her sublime singing dominates the bull-fighting arena as the provocative and alluring Carmen, while Dmytro Popov portrays Don Jose with a perfect mix of naivety and mad desire, his rich tenor rolling out across the bay.