The filmmaker Werner Herzog, who has staged operas periodically over his long career, has mentioned two things that appealed to him about directing Parsifal in Valencia: the presence there of a relic with a plausible claim to be the Holy Grail and the remarkable Santiago Calatrava-designed opera house, now two years old. One detects elements of the opera house in the solid white walls of Maurizio Balò's set for the opera's outer acts and in the disc that descends during the Grail scenes, a kind of rose window composed of translucent stones possibly suggestive of the house's jet blue tile work. But the clincher comes at the end when, in lieu of Wagner's descending dove, a projected image resembling the opera house's exterior appears, wiggles around a bit and then flies off into outer space.

It lends an almost comic touch, provoking audience murmuring at a sublime moment. Earlier, the Grail, housed in an aluminium box, proves to be a replica of the Valencia Grail; once unveiled it remains stationary, an object of veneration by the Grail knights, who touch it individually as they file out of the Grail hall. The treatment is representative of Herzog's simple, unaffected approach; a young director trying this might be accused of lacking imagination. But Herzog's movement of the characters, helpfully lit by Guido Levi, never lacks authority and draws one toward the music. You feel closer to the essence of this complex work than a more interpretive reading might allow. Herzog also reminds us that Parsifal has a Spanish setting.