Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta, a 19th-century romance with a tenuous toehold in the repertoire, and Stravinsky’s Mavra, an experimental 20th-century farce rarely ever seen, might appear to have little in common. Not so, says director Axel Ranisch. Cunningly interleaving the two, the folkloric high jinks of Mavra are acted out as a doll’s game by the melancholy princess Iolanta. It’s a bold conceit, and while the two works don’t easily rub up against each other, there are insights to be gained if one has the intellectual nous to ferret them out.

Iolanta was Tchaikovsky’s last opera and it’s blessed with a flowing, lyrical score. A blind princess has been hidden away in a forest by her father the king. Her condition has been kept a secret – even from her. When she falls in love with the ardent Vaudémont and finally learns she is blind, her desire to see is the catalyst for the long-hoped for cure. By contrast, Mavra is a simple folk story in which the resourceful Parasha smuggles...