Mad props to il maestrino Daniel Harding, who worked that baby-faced mojo of his to pump life and wit and music back into the corpse of last year's Harnoncourt Nozze, showing that the lifelessness of that production wasn't really the fault of the director, Claus "Yes, I Like Strindberg An Awful Lot, Yes" Guth and his monochrome, desaturated staging.
And Harding did it all without la Netrebka.