SALZBURG, Austria – The hit show at the festival this season is “La Traviata,” with Anna Netrebko in the title role. She is the Russian soprano who has achieved highest operatic stardom, complete with “60 Minutes” profile. With talent and looks to burn, she has the world at her feet. And everyone has been buzzing about her “Traviata”: cab drivers, hotel clerks, and sausage vendors, in addition to well-heeled patrons. Austrian state television broadcast a performance live; German state television showed the same thing three hours later. This “Traviata” is simply a sensation.

The production is by Willy Decker, the German director, but we will get to him and his ideas in a moment. First, some singing (as heard on Wednesday night). Miss Netrebko is not an especially Italianate singer, and this was particularly apparent in Act I of Verdi’s opera. Her voice does not let in much sunlight. And her coloratura in “Sempre libera” was a little labored. Also, she did not sing the high E flat (for those keeping score). Anything else to pick at? Not really.

Miss Netrebko was superb in conversational lines, and such music as “Dite alla giovine” was amazingly controlled. And she is such a singing actress, you thought mainly of Violetta, not of Anna Netrebko. Seldom has this character’s torment been so well portrayed. Miss Netrebko tore your heart out, eschewing anything cheap.

Her tenor, the Alfredo, was Rolando Villazon, a Mexican star. He has a lot going for him, including a beautiful voice, and dashing looks. (Miss Netrebko and Mr. Villazon made a great looking pair, it has to be said. In Act II, Scene 1, Mr. Decker had them rolling around like minks, and he was quite right.) Like Miss Netrebko, Mr. Villazon is not an especially Italianate singer, and he is loath to travel directly to notes: He does a lot of Latin swooning around. And he is apt to roll a single R in a big way, as though it were a double R, or even a triple one. Furthermore, he was frequently sharp. But the audience adored him, and they should not be faulted.

In the role of Germont was one of the great Germonts, the American baritone Thomas Hampson. He was hugely authoritative and persuasive, as usual. His “Di Provenza il mar” was stylish and moving – but it was also unconventional. It had many ritards, and tremendous emotion. I happen to prefer a steady pulse, and I think of this aria as kind of a grim, stoic serenade. But Mr. Hampson has his own conception.

And serving in the pit was Carlo Rizzi, the Italian conductor who heads the Welsh National Opera. Originally scheduled to conduct was the very fine Italian-Swiss maestro Marcello Viotti, who died in February. Mr. Rizzi led the Vienna Philharmonic wisely, and that orchestra was always a beautiful and adept presence. To provide just one detail: Never had I so noticed the accompaniment to the tenor aria “De’ miei bollenti spiriti,” an accompaniment that was amazingly clean, sprightly, and helpful. The Viennese chorus performed ably, too.

Mr. Rizzi’s ending, I could quarrel with: I think it ought to be savage, just like the fate inflicted on Violetta (and the Germonts). From this conductor, it was rather polite, almost pretty. But Mr. Rizzi had earned his bravos.

Mr. Decker is not Franco Zeffirelli, and the Decker “Traviata” is a bit of a weirdfest – but it is intelligent and compelling, too. Before the opera begins, there is already a man onstage – an old man – sitting next to a giant clock. The clock is set at 11:39. During the orchestral prelude, Violetta comes out, in a red party dress and red high heels. She acts all through the prelude – she is pleading with the old man. He seems to be Father Time, or Death. The clock moves closer to midnight (I assume it’s not noon): What is this, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists?

In the first party scene, the partiers are all bunched together, moving as one, grasping at Violetta, for example. In Act II, Scene 1, flowers are everywhere, including on a gay backdrop. (The image seems to be photographic.) But, as Germont makes his terrible demands, the color turns to black and white. Germont and his son, Alfredo, have their confrontation – and the older man slaps Alfredo to the ground. Shades of Othello and Desdemona. On Wednesday night, the audience gasped.

The second party scene bursts in on Germont and Alfredo – that is, Mr. Decker moves immediately into Act II, Scene 2. In this scene, the partiers all wear ugly cardboard masks: for the women, a mask that looks like Betty Boop with a bloom in her hair; for the men, a mask that looks like Senor Wences. In a horrible, almost unwatchable moment, Alfredo stuffs his gambling winnings into Violetta’s mouth, as she writhes within the giant clock.

Then Mr. Decker plays his most astonishing card of all: He begins the prelude to Act III right at the end of the party scene, with no intermission. This final act begins with the party debris still around Violetta, who is prone. Look, if Mr. Decker had omitted the first intermission, we would have been out of there in a cool two hours! (As it was, it was two and a half hours.) But shouldn’t we have an intermission between Acts II and III, to help indicate the passage of time in the story? Not really – the Act III prelude does that well enough. And the old man – Father Time, or Death – turns out to be Dr. Grenvil. Perfect. The doctor is the one who delivers the mortal verdict.

Speaking of perfection: I am reminded, once more, that Verdi has written a perfect opera, in “La Traviata.” And these Salzburg forces have given it its maximum impact. Wednesday night’s was a shattering experience. Before the opera, a friend of mine – a longtime Salzburg-goer – said that a person could scalp his ticket for 2,000 euros. I believe that is right: And it would have been worth it, to the buyer.