Going Mad With Beautiful Singing: Lucia di Lammermoor at Opera in the Heights

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Donizetti had finally reached the heights he had clamored for. The great Rossini had resigned, living the high life in Paris, and Bellini had recently died. That left Donizetti. After Lucia, more clunkers followed, but so too did his final immortal works, (1837), La fille du régiment (1840), (1840) and (1843). He would write four more operas before his premature death from syphilis in 1848. He was Mr. Opera for a brief time but didn't live to see the rise of his successor, Giuseppe Verdi. Donizetti's musical legacy is deep, and Lucia's melodrama is the epitome of "bel canto" style ("beautiful song") – long phrases of lush melody that highlight the singer's vocal technique. But Lucia did something different for its time. There's subtle psychology under the tunes, intrinsic to the characters' thoughts and feelings. It's not just music for music's sake, it leads us inward into motivation and mental state. Bel canto loves mad scenes and damsels in distress, and Lucia is the paragon, the highlight of them all. Adapted by the prolific Italian librettist Saladore Cammarano from Walter Scott's gothic romance, (1819), is flush with ghosts, plaids, and wilting heroine. Virginal Lucia, astonishing soprano Oriana Geis Falla, loves her family's rival Edgardo, equally astonishing tenor Arnold Livingston Geis. (The singers are married and their mutual affection shows up in spades on stage.) Seeking position and political power, her brother Enrico (baritone John Allen Nelson) deceives her into marriage with Arturo (tenor Bernard Kelly). Believing lover Edgardo has betrayed her, she loses it and kills her husband on their wedding night. Going mad in her famous aria, Falla soared lyrically in the preface "Il dolce suono," ("The sweet sound") where she fantasizes about marriage to Edgardo, echoing the haunting glass harmonica obligato – substituted by flute here, beautifully piped by Wendy Bergin – then flew skyward in the fiendishly difficulty coloratura cabaletta, "Spargi d'amaro pianto" ("Sprinkle with bitter tears"), in which each repeat of the music is pushed up to 11, with ornamentation to match. It's a showstopper like none other, a classic of precise technique and ravishing tone; sung, of course, while the character goes bonkers. Falla was exquisite all evening, hypnotizing us with flawless intonation, diction, and emotional wallop. With Hollywood stage presence, she's also quite a beauty. Even dressed in a hideous wedding costume of puffed white sleeves appended to her tartan skirt with a bejeweled cloche hat like a Roaring '20s flapper, she dazzled. For an opera singer, she's the complete package, a star. Then, of course, there's the internationally known finale to Act II, the "Sextet," the opera's hit tune. Once you hear it, you'll know it instantly. The number signifies "opera" in all its grand glory, much like "The Triumphal March" from Verdi's or "The Ride of the Valkyries" from Wagner's Die Walküre. The six principals react differently to Edgardo's surprise appearance at Lucia's wedding to Arturo. The melody builds and builds, until the chorus inevitably comes in to finish the climax. It's one of opera's stunners. But don't overlook Edgardo's anguished yet ravishing aria in the graveyard, "Tombe degli avi miei ... Fra poco a me ricovero," ("Tomb of my ancestors...soon will give me rest"), as he says his goodbyes to his dead love. Then, naturally, he stabs himself. End of opera. Except here in director Alyssa Weathersby's version. Edgardo's final "to life" is sung with Lucia helping him commit suicide and leading him on to paradise. It's a bit supernatural and quite unexpected, but it somehow works in context. We don't mind a little apotheosis when these two singers are just so damn good. Yes, indeed, put them in paradise. Geis, as Edgardo, is a burly Scotsman with Braveheart hair and a plangent tenor that could swing a broadsword. He cuts through Donizetti's lyricism with a robust virile voice that is delicate enough to croon while maneuvering through the treacherous bel canto filigree. When he plants his feet and lets loose a fortissimo passage, you'd swear Birnam Wood was on the march. Baritone Nelson, as villainous brother Enrico, began a bit rusty but he warmed up considerably during his passionate duet with Lucia where he must convince – browbeat – her into marriage. Bass-baritone Aiden Smerud (last heard as a superlatively wicked Sparafucile in Opera in the Heights' 2023 production of ) as chaplain Raimondo, possesses a sonorous deep-dish voice just right for the keeper of the peace in the ruinous Ravenswood Castle. Why he is manhandled by Enrico's goons when he tells the brother of Lucia's love interest is one of director Weathersby's least distinguished choices. Mezzo Samantha Taylor doesn't have that much to sing as Alisa, Lucia's lady-in-waiting, but she sings what Donizetti has given her with polish and superlative diction. A member of Houston Ebony Opera Guild, tenor Bernard Kelly in the abbreviated role of husband-to-be Arturo sang with clarity; as did tenor Jarrett Ward, a stalwart member of OH's chorus, as bad boy Normanno, who forges Edgardo's "Dear Lucia" letter, which sends her over the edge. The chorus was in tip-top shape, although, again, Weathersby directed them in haphazard fashion, giving them too much comedy relief for this opera wreathed in gloom and sadness. Maestro Eiki Isomura whipped his orchestra into luscious frenzies or heated romantic passions. Lucia's mad scene evoked haunting whispers or crazed roulades, all matching Falla's intense and florid rendition. He and his lead singers brought Donizetti's antique warhorse into the present, exactly where it belongs.