Gaetano Donizetti's opera, "Lucie de Lammermoor," takes the concept of "stag hunt" past international relations class and into "interpersonal relations" territory. With a jealous lover, an unwanted arranged marriage and a manically manipulative brother, who wouldn't feel hunted?
In Boston Lyric Opera's (BLO) production of the 1839 adaptation of the Italian original, the hunt takes center stage - and Lucie (Tracy Dahl), the beautiful coloratura, is the stag.
Her lover, Edgard Ravenswood (Yasu Nakajima) wants to kill her brother, Henri Ashton (Gaetan Laperriere); Henri likewise loathes Edgard, and arranges to have Lucie married to Arthur (Joshua Kohl) for political gain. Driven by passion for Edgar but tattered by obligation to her brother, Lucie begs for both men to cool their conflict, but to no avail.
Instead, Henri tricks Lucie into thinking that her lover has been unfaithful, so she goes through with the wedding to Arthur despite her unhappiness. Ultimately (and expectedly), Lucie goes mad and kills her new husband on their wedding night. Not a very uplifting show by any means, but one that's not afraid to tap the most primal muscles of human emotion.
BLO amps the hunting image through the murky multi-level set and the costumes, schemed in gray, black and red. The opera opens with a dark stage covered by smoky-colored panels and paints an image of the hunting ground with a white, innocent stag drinking from a pool of water in the woods.
Then come the hunters: dark, armed and heavy. We meet Henri, a powerful, malicious presence, and Gilbert (Alan Schneider), the wily servant. He's a double-agent type, vacillating between Henri and Edgard.
The diva and the hunted stag all at once, soprano Tracy Dahl is a fascinating Lucie, with unbelievable vocal range and coloratura skill. The score is difficult: intricate and precise to the audience's ears, but dubbed "the Olympics of singing" by BLO's General Director Janice Mancini Del Sesto in the program notes.
With piercing coloratura precision and escalating melismas, instantaneous jumps from lows to highs to really, really highs, Lucie must embody precise control and leverage. Every note is crisp and soaked with emotion from beginning to end, from joy to torment, from passivity to ardent loves to full-on madness.
The madness scene is wild, but it's a controlled madness, a blood-chilling one as Lucie sees her lover in everything and everyone. Her vocal stamina transcends lunacy with its bursts through the difficult melodies. Though she's the victim of this tale, Lucie also carries it; Dahl takes center stage from her initial fantastic appearance to her demise and gladly accepts her well-deserved standing ovation.
The performances, overall, are excellent, aside from some minor overpowering of the vocals by the orchestra in the opening exchange between Gilbert and Henri. In particular, baritone Gaeten Laperriere is fantastic as the conniving brother, and his duet with Dahl is one of the highlights of the show. Their interaction is guilty and avid, a forceful, believable agony.
Also to note is David M. Cushing's Raymond, the priest. Though a smaller role, he handles it with authority and influence, and his voice resonates throughout the hall with a rich, impressive bass. Tenors Kohl and Nakajima are also solid. Yet Lucie and Henri are the center of this production, and their scenes are the most memorable.
Unfortunately, in this genre events often happen behind the scenes. "Lucie" is no exception; a few of the more climatic moments take place offstage. Several scenes could have been expanded to better catch the music's powerful suicide aria. Still, the last scene is visually striking, magnificently wrapping the show up.
In the end, Lucie is a victim among manipulative men; the dominance of masculinity is an ironic theme of the performance. Even during the wedding scene, the choir stands on two sides of the stage: men on one, toasting, and singing to each other, and women motionless, rigid, and dutiful on the other. Lucie, forced to concede by familial devotion and a scorched burning passion, is between a rock and a hard place.
"Judge for yourself," Edgard tells Lucie at one point. Ironically, Lucie has been denied the resources necessary to do so - it's only natural that her mind, her most important tool, flees her. But for viewers, her story is one of emotional, brilliant vocals that are most certainly worth hearing.
