The Teatro San Carlo has once again entrusted Gianni Amelio's 2012 production of Lucia di Lammermoor to Michele Mangini Sorrentino for a third revival. The choice by now amounts almost to a house tradition, and a reassuring one: Lucia is, after all, at home here in Naples, where it received its triumphant premiere on 26th September 1835, with Donizetti himself overseeing the Royal Theatres of the city.
The sets by Nicola Rubertelli and the evocative costumes by Maurizio Millenotti retain their neo-Gothic atmospheric conviction. What is less certain, after three revivals in nearly a decade, is whether the staging itself still possesses the freshness it once had. Sorrentino's handling of the material – framing Lucia above all as a passive victim of patriarchal ruthlessness – reads with clarity, but the characterisation of the secondary roles and the overall dramatic momentum seemed in places to fall into routine. The staging serves the music, but it no longer commands the same sense of discovery.
What elevated the evening decisively was the quality of the principals. Rosa Feola traced a Lucia of considerable interpretive depth, sustained by a combination of technical accomplishment and musical intelligence not frequently encountered on the operatic stage. Her instrument, perfectly focused in timbre, possesses a natural sweetness shot through with just enough edge to save it from any risk of monotony. In the more heroically charged moments, one might have wished for a fuller, more opulent sound; in the lyric pages – “Regnava nel silenzio” above all – the voice seemed to float with a quality of poetic luminosity that was entirely its own. The Mad Scene revealed the full measure of her artistic maturity, even if, in a house of the San Carlo's dimensions, the projection did not always prove equal to the demands of the space. Her portrayal grew with a kind of quiet inevitability toward that final scene, where pianissimi of rare purity impressed as much as the more dramatically charged passages: Feola is an artist who knows how to make control a form of intensity.
René Barbera’s Edgardo was no less distinguished. The Mexican-American tenor has earned critical praise for his effortless singing, his warmth and expressive musicality. His phrasing showed a bel canto sensibility that went well beyond technical execution; he shaped his lines with ardour and stylistic conviction, and his account of “Tu che a Dio spiegasti l'ali” was both vocally impressive and genuinely moving. His partnership with Feola nonetheless struck sparks and their duets were among the finest passages of the night.
Mattia Olivieri gave Enrico Ashton a reading of genuine solidity. His baritone is well-focused and carries natural authority, deployed with an actor's intelligence, allowing Enrico's cold calculation and private frustration to coexist in disquieting proximity. The bel canto repertoire increasingly reveals itself as the natural home for his voice, and this Enrico confirmed as much. Alexander Köpeczi brought to Raimondo a presence of genuine distinction: his was the evening’s most naturally gifted voice, warm and poised in equal measure, deployed with an ease and authority that lent the role a gravitas it does not always receive.
In the pit, Francesco Lanzillotta confirmed the qualities that have made him one of the most respected conductors of his generation in the Italian repertoire. One appreciates in particular his subtle taste for dynamic variety and for the way in which he prioritises the cantabile quality of instrumental solos over metronomic precision. The orchestral textures were clean and transparent, while in the more dramatically charged moments – the wedding scene and the finale – he chose not to add extreme urgency and cumulative tension. Lanzillotta offers a Donizetti of refinement rather than fire, an approach that serves much of the score well but occasionally softens its more turbulent impulses.
The Orchestra and Chorus, as usual, gave reliable and well-prepared support, though occasional lapses in ensemble precision between orchestral sections and between the pit and the stage suggested that greater rehearsal time would not have gone amiss. The remaining roles were entrusted to members of the Teatro San Carlo’s Accademia di Canto: former students Sayumi Kaneko (Alisa) and Francesco Domenico Doto (Normanno) acquitted themselves with credit, as did current student Tianxuefei Sun in the role of Arturo.
