Bryn Terfel failed to turn up for the role of Wotan in Wagner’s Ring cycle two years ago but now he is back, all apparently forgiven, tackling a role hardly less taxing, though one he has performed in his native Wales.

Terfel’s Flying Dutchman is not a barnstorming performance, rather an unconventionally subtle one. His opening Monologue ranges from self-communing whisper to a final cry of desperation, delivered front of stage. Above all, he uses his exemplary articulation to express the Dutchman’s existential angst and longing for the redemptive love of a woman.

Anja Kampe admirably fulfils that role, unfolding some expansive legato lines. Even when Senta’s part is cruelly exposed, she cleverly uses the tension to suggest the character’s inspirational nature. Hans-Peter König’s Daland is more genial than venal and in his bumbling way, already dressed for the wedding in his Sunday best, interrupts the one embrace of his daughter and the Dutchman. Torsten Kerl is the satisfactory Erik.

There are just two gripping moments in Tim Albery’s unremarkable production. One is the staging of Senta’s Ballad, for which the spinning girls (here at sewing machines) turn off the factory striplights to hear the story by eerie candlelight. The other is the appearance of the ghostly Dutch crew in spooky green light, through which Senta threads her way in search of her fantasy hero.

Albery is fortunate to have the brilliant designer Michael Levine, for it is his imagination, enhanced by the lighting of David Finn, that provides most that is memorable: the black shadow that envelops the stage at the first appearance of the Dutchman’s ship, the lowering from the flies of the sewing factory, and the raising of the stage to reveal the below-deck quarters of the Norwegian crew.

Or in this case perhaps the Latvian crew (Wagner wrote the work on his way home from Riga). For the carousing sailors and their girlfriends are decked out in a Soviet bloc version of Carnaby Street gear, though the updating fails to suggest much of the contemporary relevance of the story.

There’s some fine solo and choral singing and Marc Albrecht’s handling of the score is impressive but this is a far cry from the thrilling productions seen in Germany in recent decades.
Until 10 March (020 7304 4000, www.roh.org.uk).