Beloved since its premiere in Naples in1835, Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor is an opera which centers on the fate of a young Scottish woman in the 17th century who is coerced into an arranged marriage to save her fading aristocratic family. Scorned by her beloved, a rival clan heir, she gives into despair and kills her husband on their wedding night in derangement. Director Simon Stone sees a parallel to Lucia’s story in the economically forgotten rust belt of contemporary America, where middle-class workers feel forsaken and helpless. The men resort to violence and abuse, with women often their victims. Lucia’s madness is foretold here, as she is a drug addict desperate to escape her small town with her boyfriend Edgardo. The premise of the production that Stone hopes will find audiences “exhilarated by how close their own experience, or that of their fellow Americans, can be to grand opera,” is certainly admirable. His production, unfortunately, falls short of expectations.
Lizzie Clachan's set rotates on a turntable, packed full with a dilapidated house, pharmacy, fast food joint, motel and drive-in cinema. A screen high above the stage shows video at crucial times to “provide close-up views and more than one perspective” per the Met’s program. It is distracting at best and dumbing down of the audience to have a videographer and his assistant trailing singers on stage to show Lucia in her room doodling, playing with her phone or changing, or wedding guests stuffing their faces.
As Lucia sings to her friend Alisa, in what appears to be a sewage plant, of her vision of the ghost of a slain woman, the screen shows a mortally wounded woman frantically thrashing about. The Met’s previous production featured a ghost of a young woman as well, but there she moved elegantly with the music. In the current production, the female ghost returns during Lucia’s famous Mad Scene in Act 3, this time in person, to follow Lucia. As the overhead screen shows Lucia happily embracing her beloved Edgardo in her fantasy, in keeping with the libretto, the real Lucia on stage is also besieged by several bloody zombies dressed as her bridegroom, Arturo. This scene, along with the “kitchen sink” of the Act 3 set, with all previous buildings and structures piled onto the turntable, is the nadir of a well-intended but poorly-executed production. Lucia, in her white wedding gown drenched with blood, is reminiscent of the horror film, Carrie.