Lucia di Lammermoor review – bloody and convincing

Last April, Katie Mitchell was upfront about the “strong feminist agenda” she had for her new staging of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, and that was enough to provoke spluttering. A feminist agenda – for a work named after a character who defies the wishes of her family to choose her husband, commits murder, and finally kills herself rather than wait to die of a broken heart like any right-minded gothic heroine? Whatever next?

In its first revival, its direction honed slightly and with Michele Mariotti conducting with an ear wonderfully sensitive to balance and flow, the production is again striking – chiefly for its intelligence. The only really shocking thing is the amount of stage blood the Royal Opera will be getting through, what with Lucia’s miscarriage and Arturo’s murder.

Miscarriage? In an 1835 opera based on a gothic novel by Walter Scott, Mitchell takes plenty of liberties, it’s true, of which the addition of an extra and overriding reason for Lucia’s desperate state of mind is perhaps the greatest, certainly the most unsettling. On this particular occasion, they are liberties worth taking. That’s not to say they aren’t at times vexing. The split-screen effect of Vicki Mortimer’s dimly lit set, in which we can always see what is going on, in 24-style real time in two places at once, can be hard to negotiate without feeling that one has missed something important happening elsewhere on the busy stage. And yes, it is the men who come off worse from this, as it is usually their scenes that have to compete with something unsung but potentially more interesting concerning Lucia elsewhere.

Anything that can upstage Christopher Maltman as Enrico, Lucia’s unbending brother, begs to be taken seriously; Maltman sings with a baritone that’s a fist in a velvet glove. Charles Castronovo, returning as Edgardo for the first half of the run, brings a touch of the matinee idol and a smooth, bright tenor to Lucia’s lover, and Michele Pertusi’s Bidebent has great, gloomy presence. But all ears as well as eyes are on Lisette Oropesa. Lucia is her first Royal Opera role, and the Cuban American soprano is sensationally good. She makes the stratospheric vocal fireworks of her mad scene – accompanied by flute this time, not glass harmonica – sound easy; indeed, her every note is part of a convincing portrayal of a complex character. It’s a rare Lucia – and a rare production – that manages that.