Lucia de Lammermoor

Lucia de Lammermoor – I was once told that no Albert Lea wedding could be counted as memorable unless at least three squad cars had to be dispatched to the wedding dance to break up the riot between the in-laws. Lucia de Lammermoor, a bel canto opera by Donizetti, illustrates this theme with swift and lyric efficiency. Indeed, the theme of the opera, which is, in effect, honor-killing gone awry – the potential victim of the honor killing, the eponymous Lucia, manages to murder the man she is being forced to wed – probably resonates more strongly today than a couple decades ago: we know about contemporary honor killings in Pakistan and, even, within the green and leafy suburbs of London. Throw a ruined Soviet tank into the mise-en-scene and arm the supernumeraries with Kalishinakov automatic rifles and the tale could be taking place in present-day Afghanistan. Donizetti’s music is effective in illustrating the lurid libretto which is congested with ejaculations such as My heart is convulsed with rage! or Only blood will wash away this shame! Characteristic of classical pre-Wagnerian opera, the music is only tangentially related to the text – Donizetti’s chirpy melodies soften the text and illumine it in peculiar ways. A trio seems to represent a soliloquy or three soliloquies – it is just a little distant from how people might plausibly speak, but signifies internal discourse. Some arias seem constructed on the notion that in certain public settings and under stress, people speak “operatically” – the texture of the music seems to represent that kind of declamatory speech. In a couple instances, Donizetti takes a banal, but eminently hummable tune, lets the singers present it a couple times, and, then, ornaments the kitschy melody with various contortions, hiccups, and sobs to show how strong emotion disfigures ordinary communication. At the climax, the famous mad scene, Lucia’s passion drives the ordinary preening display of the coloratura soprano into wordless, staccato, fragments of melody – it is a justly famous device and one that is intensely dramatic. But opera is so inherently stylized and anti-naturalistic that the interaction between the audience and the players takes on a curious flavor – Lucia burbles out her melodious madness, three octaves above ordinary speech, and, then, slashes her throat, producing a picturesque flare of blood. The audience responds with enthusiastic ovations, ostensibly applauding her suicide – although, in fact, the clapping isintended to salute the soprano’s artistry. The minimalist scenery deployed in this production is exceedingly effective – corrugated buttes of moor reflect light into curious aurora borealis effects looming over the singers and vivid slashes of deeply saturated red signify the bloody events occurring on-stage. Susana Phillips navigated the title role with effortless aplomb; her voice is extraordinarily warm and rich – one of the greatest instruments that I have ever had the privilege of hearing. She’s also an accomplished actress and the few lapses in her performance – for instance, too much lying down on her back to sing and a scene in which she makes snow angels in the dusty blizzard simulated on stage – were the fault of the direction and not the player.