SALZBURG, Austria – The festival’s production of Mozart’s “Mitridate” is so odd, it tries to negate the singing and playing. But the singing and playing on Saturday night were so good, the production had no chance.

“Mitridate” is Mozart’s first “opera seria,” composed in 1770, when the composer was 14 years old. It is early Mozart, yes (although there is earlier – much). But given the composer’s absurdly brief life, can we really say there is “late” Mozart? In keeping with its genre, “Mitridate” consists of recitative and aria, recitative and aria, for hours on end. Every character in the drama has his turn at bat. And everyone in Saturday night’s cast stepped up to the plate.

This was the best Mozart singing I had heard since … five days before, when I attended “The Magic Flute.” But before that, it had been a while.

In the title role, as the King of Pontus, was the American tenor Richard Croft, who is the best-kept secret in opera – at least I sometimes think of him that way. The brother of baritone Dwayne Croft, Richard has his fans, but not a wide public. He deserves such a public. His voice is a wonder, his technique astonishing, his musical intelligence keen. He sang splendidly on this occasion, as he almost always does. He put on a kind of clinic – and he did so in trying directorial circumstances (weird costumes, weird positions, weird movements).

The roles of the princes, Sifare and Farnace, have long been sung by women, as they were in Salzburg’s two previous productions of “Mitridate”: Arleen Auger and Helen Watts sang them in 1971; Christiane Oelze and Vesselina Kasarova sang them in 1997. But by now the countertenors have triumphantly returned, so the current production has them – or rather one of them, which is somewhat confusing. Sifare is sung by the Swedish soprano Miah Persson, and Farnace by the American countertenor Bejun Mehta. These are the brothers. Would it not have been better to go with two from one sex or the other?

In any case, Miss Persson sang superbly, despite an announcement made on her behalf that she had been suffering from a throat infection and asked for our indulgence. No indulgence was necessary. Heedless of the gyrations and other indignities she was put through, she sang evenly, gracefully, and skillfully. Seldom do you hear such pure Mozart singing as Miss Persson offered in “Lungi da te.” And there is no break in this voice, from very low to very high – Seamless City.

Never had I heard Mr. Mehta in such good shape: He handled passagework easily; he shaped his arias astutely; he showed a variety of vocal colors. If the orchestra covered his low notes, that has to be laid to the players in the pit (about whom, more in a moment).

The German soprano Netta Or was Aspasia, and she was strong and accurate. It’s a thrill to hear a big, bold voice dancing with precision among notes. Miss Or gave us some hair-raising Cs. And a second Swedish soprano, Ingela Bohlin, revealed a fine instrument and a grooved technique in the role of Ismene.

Presiding over this performance was the French maestro Marc Minkowski, conducting his Musiciens du Louvre-Grenoble. He was on top of Mozart’s score, and he projected fantastic energy. Not just energy for energy’s sake, but a musically useful energy. The orchestra’s playing was sprightly, proud, and gutty – gutty in more ways than one. You have to consider those period strings.

And speaking of “periodicity”: An acquaintance here remarked an amazing dichotomy in the performance of early, or early-ish, operas: In the orchestra pit, absolute originalism is demanded – nothing smacking of the modern; but on the stage, the more outlandish and novel, the better. So, in the pit, you have a guy struggling with the natural horn (as we did on Saturday night); and onstage, a guy can be performing a sex act dressed like Britney Spears. Well, which is it – do you want fidelity to the original or not?

The production of “Mitridate” comes from Gunter Kramer, a German director. He makes extraordinary use of mirrors, allowing us to see people and objects from more than one angle. And what do we see? Initially, goggle-eyed men in fancy, Mozartean garb, sliding downward through a sort of muck. The costumes throughout the evening are a bizarre melange: The princes are in black business suits, but the pants are short, not long. Crowns appear from Burger King. Ismene is dressed in what looks like a Chanel suit. Aspasia is trapped for a minute in what may be a burka. Mitridate, when we first see him, wears a muscly body suit, a robe, and sunglasses.

What else? Well, extras on a level above the principals perform what could be tai-chi exercises. And Sifare executes some hip-hop moves. And Mitridate’s war council looks like a Cub Scouts meeting. And …

In a public forum last week, Thomas Hampson, the baritone star, called himself a “dinosaur” for believing the following: Opera is music in a theatrical context, not theater in a musical context. The music should prevail; the directors should back off. But directors continue to dominate and smother. For how long? For how many more years will the music world permit this? Unto forever, I’m afraid. Look how long the architects have been allowed to mar the landscape.

Oh, and Mozart, at 14? Gosh, could he compose.