Expectations can’t run too high in what appears to be the DVD debut of Manuel de Falla’s infrequently performed opera La vida breve. Written in 1904, the two-act, 80-minute piece is what the conductor/composer Ernesto Halffter called the composer’s ‘Opus 1’. Thanks partly to later revisions, the opera shows what was to come from this great nationalist composer, though without the confidence, consistency and, most of all, pacing of later works such as El Amor brujo.

The non-dimensional plot is almost too simple to be viable. A beautiful gypsy girl, romanced and abandoned by a man above her in social station, disrupts his wedding by dropping dead from a broken heart. Victoria de los Angeles recorded it twice with Spanish collaborators and, for years, that seemed to be all that the world needed from La vida breve. Other recordings have arrived and orchestral excerpts are reasonably popular; but now this highly sympathetic video reveals the piece’s strengths without trying to convince you that it’s something more than it is.

The production consists mainly of a series of massive panels that contain the stage rather than portraying anything specific, although the red-and-black marble patterns reference the offstage chorus of foundry workers in this working-class milieu. Shadows suggest ceiling fans in a sultry Spanish climate. In grief from the first scene, the hapless Salud is shot looking quite dwarfed by the towering panels, which open from the rear to allow entrances of other characters, including the entire wedding party of her duplicitous lover, Paco. The style of movement often has a dream-like deliberation that justifies the opera’s sometimes sluggish progression of events.

It’s a compliment to say that a number of moments are hard to watch because the emotion is so undiluted, especially since we’re aware from the first scene that the heroine is doomed. Cristina Gallardo-Domâs is the polar opposite of de los Angeles’s emotional dignity: she literally clings to her faithless lover, Paco, from the waist down as he slowly withdraws backwards. Her theatrical savvy is such that she can sustain her emotional torment during long non-singing passages. Vocally, the role fits her like a glove; her pitch problems in heavier repertoire are nowhere to be heard here. Other voices are all excellent verismo-weight singers, though I miss the quirkier, ethnic-specific vocalism in the 1954 de los Angeles recording (available to download).

Specific directorial touches from Giancarlo del Monaco are well chosen and restrained. At one point, Salud’s grandmother lights a candle and performs some sort of sympathetic magic. The wedding singer, often sung by a baritone, is portrayed here by female flamenco singer Esperanza Fernández, costumed to resemble Gallardo-Domâs. A doppelgänger? An angel of death? Goyo Montero’s choreography deftly melds traditional ballet and flamenco. Much as I’d love to report some minor miracle from the orchestral forces under Lorin Maazel, the conductor is attentive but brings nothing special to the score.