Dido and Aeneas/Bluebeard's Castle: Oper Frankfurt @ Edinburgh Festival Theatre

This is a daring, hugely inventive and emotionally affecting double-bill, conducted by Constantinos Carydis and directed by Barrie Kosky: two short operas 200 years apart, one of the earliest English operas by Purcell paired with a 20th century opera by Bartόk. Opposite ends of the spectrum, which is acknowledged by contrasting settings and costumes. Yet at the heart of both is a doomed relationship.

There will be those who object to the tongue-in cheek, stylised staging of Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, but it overflows with wit and decadence: especially a bare-breasted woman in an enormous hat adorned with peacock feather, in keeping with the spirit of the post-Puritan court (whether Restoration or Jacobean), complemented by a small orchestra playing Baroque instruments, including recorders and theorbos. Moving the chorus around in a block on a white bench the entire length of the stage (the only set throughout) or removing them to join the orchestra is a brilliant way of enlivening what might be otherwise static staging. The Sorceress,  sung by  counter-tenor Martin Wӧlfel, is in keeping with the times when men always played witches on stage, though this production has the other two witches as counter-tenors too: Dmitry Egorov and Roland Schneider; all are superb. These three – long haired, bearded, shaking their heads, while the Sorceress waggles his tongue adds a hilarious but even more sinister layer. If any of this had destroyed the pathos of the lovers, I could see an objection but on the contrary, baritone Sebastian Geyer as Aeneas not only has a rich, wonderful voice but acts with great skill conveying a lively personality, quite a feat, considering how undeveloped Purcell's characterisation of Aeneas is. The acting skills too of Paula Murrihy as Dido are as superb as her singing and the couple bring their relationship to life as they nuzzle and giggle. Murrihy's unaffected rendition of the famous lament is moving, performed with a sad smile giving added poignancy. Her stylised gasps as she dies are an effective way of continuing her drama while the orchestra plays on long after her lament.

Bluebeard's Castle is equally stunning. While pastel colours dominate the first opera, now everyone is in black as we enter a dark and unsettling world. Its folkloric quality is signalled by the prologue's traditional story-opening words and persists throughout. Bluebeard's smooth, pentatonic lines and Judith's more chromatic and angular, fall as a contrast to the opulent, increasingly dark orchestral music which evokes their interior journey.

Mezzo-soprano Tanja Ariane Baumgartner is superb as Judith. Her determination to enter her husband's body to reach his soul is conveyed with an extraordinary range of emotion and bass-baritone Robert Hayward too is mesmerising, with an affecting voice and tortured facial expressions as he continually rubs his side and readjusts his clothing, suggesting an aching wound – in his psyche, not just his body – which leads to an intriguing interpretation of the story, that they are both victims. The staging too is dynamic, again an achievement given that the action is psychological and the reason why this opera is usually performed as a concert piece.

Unlike other productions, there were no doors, nor coloured light effects, no turning of keys. Much is left to the audience's imagination, fitting in a journey into the protagonists' psyches. The set is the back-stage of the theatre itself and a revolving floor (at a slight angle) which literally keeps the singers on the move, cleverly mirroring their deepening circular relationship. The addition of black-suited servants adds yet more physical action plus imaginative visual effects such as their suits pouring water in the Room of the Lake of Tears. Particularly stunning are the white smoke flares suggesting the vastness of the landscapes in room 5. The sombre ending as Judith is forced to join the other three wives (who appear on stage in black) is understated, the stage darkening and all the more effective as Bluebeard's last word is 'night' ending on an unresolved note and outstretched hands, as if the ghastly cycle will start again.