That this is the third outing for David McVicar’s Giulio Cesare at Glyndebourne in just five seasons is emphatic testimony to the charm of this all-singing all-dancing fantasy of a production, proving once and for all that it is oh so much more than the sparkling sum of its novelty parts – its energy and irreverence more than balanced by a technical sophistication and intelligence that would satisfy the sternest of purists.

Trading the Roman Empire for the last years of the British Empire, McVicar’s production plays an extended visual game with stereotypes of Englishness and exoticism – the opulent hangings and diaphanous draperies of Cleopatra’s boudoir set against the rigidly upright formality of western drawing-room and military culture.

From the opening bars of Presti Omai the Orchestra of The Age of Enlightenment were a delight, driving the music forward with stylish technique that lost none of the energy or joy of Handel’s orchestral writing in its polished accuracy.

Sarah Connolly (pictured above) was predictably the musical star of a strong ensemble cast, bringing her flawless technique and control to the role of Caesar that is as challenging dramatically as it is vocally. The coloratura tour de force that is Al lampo dell’armi was performed with supreme control and nuance, but it was gentler arias such as the beautifully lilting Aure, deh, per pieta that really commanded new attention.

Much has been written of Danielle De Niese’s Cleopatra. With McVicar’s take on the character conceived specifically with her in mind, it exploits to the fullest extent her physical affinity with the role, and her Cleopatra is a kittenish minx of a seductress who sits somewhere between Scarlett O’Hara and Blanche Dubois.

It is very easy to get swept up in the De Niese magic which pulses through the pacier arias, but I found myself unconvinced by the stiller, contemplative moments of Piangero and V’adoro Pupille. Neither truly settled into that shimmering inward stillness that Stephanie D’Oustrac (Sesto) achieved so magically in her Cara Speme.

Patricia Bardon, the cast’s other Handelian, presented a Cornelia straight from Greek tragedy. Her depth of tone and extraordinary range came into their own in this brooding character, and she and D’Oustrac worked well together to bring out the genuinely disturbing psychological element of the piece.

For intelligence, wit and all-out opulence McVicar’s Giulio Cesare cannot be bettered. Beg, borrow or steal a ticket to this, the operatic event of the summer.