Tannhaüser, Royal Opera House review ★★★★★

When they rolled into the opera house just in time for the second act, they were well fed and tipsy. It didn't take much for them to become rowdy, and, deprived of the traditional dancing girls, they were quickly out of control.

This graceless audience was not, of course, at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, but at the first night in Paris in 1861 of Richard Wagner's Tannhaüser. The opera had been a success some years earlier in Dresden, but a new version for the demanding Parisian crowd failed after three performances. Wagner had inserted the requisite ballet: but in Act One, too early for the late-arriving Bullingdon-like boors of the Jockey Club.

In Tim Albery's stylish production at the Royal Opera House, this high-octane, orgiastic dance gets Tannhaüser off to a ripping start, dancers flying over a banqueting table and clothes flying to the ground as Wagner's driving music powers out of the pit. But despite the composer's reputation for scale, his operas longer and louder than others', an impressive quality in the first performance of this revival was its capacity for near-silence.

Lise Davidsen sings patient Elisabeth. Photo: Clive Barda

Yes, there are fine big voices aplenty, with lots and lots to do, but just as striking is the male chorus singing in a whisper that is a moving as any heartfelt belter. Such contrasts add to the many layers of this production, which peels back curtains within curtains in Michael Levine's theatrical design.

In the second act (sorry, no dancing, messieurs) the theatre has crumbled, like the heart of Elisabeth. She is the true love forsaken when rakish singer Heinrich Tannhaüser slipped away on a gap year to Venusberg – 'mound of Venus' (or Sextown, if you like). Tiring of sensuality he returns to drab, pious Wartburg in time for a singing contest. But his newfound taste for physical pleasure rings through his song, crushing poor Elisabeth still further.

Stefan Vinke as Tannhaüser answers to Hermann (Mika Kares). Photo: Clive Barda

As Tannhäuser, German tenor Stefan Vinke was unable to sing, and walked the part on first night with Austrian tenor Norbert Ernst singing the role from the side of the stage. Always tough on the opposite number, this arrangement, but as Elisabeth, the tremendous Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen related to her silent lover with all the long-suffering steadfastness of her character. Elisabeth bears more than most, and ultimately sacrifices herself.

Does sensual Tannhaüser have a case? Is there no great art until the artist's passions are unleashed? Certainly plenty of shocking men have taken refuge behind that defence. Usually better not to know what happens in the home, I find. And Davidsen's voice, gleaming with virtue and sincerity, knocks her lover's specious argument out of the water.

Upright Wolfram, another competitor in the singing contest, has no truck with licentiousness. His song may be considered dull by his rival, but the rest of his music in the opera is glorious. It is all the more so as sung by bass-baritone Gerald Finley, who brings warmth, meaning and character to every note, making Tannhaüser look like a spineless chancer.

Gerald Finley is song contestant and sage Wolfram. Photo: Clive Barda

As Elisabeth's uncle, town elder Hermann, Finnish bass Mika Kares dominates Wartburg physically and vocally, a towering performance in every way.

Sebastian Weigle conducting the orchestra and chorus of the Royal Opera has a secret weapon in chorus director William Spaulding, who will have micro-engineered that amazing male voice pianissimo. If there were times when the playing seemed a little detached from the drama, there were treats aplenty: wonderful woodwind playing and harps, visible in a side box, underpinning the song contest at this upmarket eisteddfod.

If you want to dip your toes into Wagner, Tannhaüser is a great place to start. This opera is packed with good tunes. It's as simple as that.

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Tannhaüser is sung in German with English surtitles. Further performances are on 1, 4, 7, 12, and 16 February