L.A. Opera’s ‘Lucia’: A Canary in a None-Too-Gilded Cage

For the past half century, musicologists, opera commentators, dramatically committed sopranos, determined conductors, alert stage directors and even the occasional tasteful tenor have labored to wrest “Lucia di Lammermoor” from the grip of canary fanciers. These bel-canto reformers point to history, since Donizetti’s most famous tragic opera was turned into a popular showpiece for singers after the composer’s death. But they also have society on their side, since modern audiences realize that it is the world around Lucia--the Scottish Highlands in the time of William and Mary being as deranged with tribal hatreds as the Balkans are today--and not the victimized young bride that is really out of control.

Now, with L.A. Opera’s new production of “Lucia di Lammermoor” unveiled at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion Wednesday night, the opera house has become safe aviary once more for the canary fancier. No one interested in opera as an intelligent art form that expresses original ideas should bother with this production. Anyone who marvels at just what an angelic instrument the human voice can be, and the irrational power it can hold over a listener, will want to hear Sumi Jo sing Lucia.

Drama, of course, never completely won out in postwar “Lucias.” Maria Callas may have gotten to the depth of Lucia’s intense emotional roller coaster, but a theatrically inert stage personality such as Joan Sutherland could also garner sympathy through the radiant beauty of their voices.

Jo, who grew up in a household besotted with Sutherland’s recordings, has many of the Australian soprano’s qualities. Her tone is pure and lustrous. Also like Sutherland, she has no talent for enunciation--one doesn’t hear words in her singing but rather a meaningless succession of exquisitely shaded vowels. But unlike Sutherland, she is petite and moves with agility. She is an eager, if unconvincing, actress.

Seen from a seat quite close to the stage, Jo makes the curious impression of being two different presences, one a singer and one an actress. When not singing, her facial expressions are carefully worked out reactions to the dramatic situation. When singing, she leaves the role and concentrates on the voice. Her mouth exaggerates the shape of each vowel, each pitch. All opera singers have to contend with these two different sides to their art, but usually a compromise is arrived at: Either dramatic considerations or vocal ones win out. Jo simply splits her personality.

The effect is ultimately surreal. Neither in her ardent duet with Edgardo, whom she loves, nor in her rebellious scenes with her brother, Enrico, who forces her into a political marriage with Arturo, is there any real sense of characters connecting. Tenor Frank Lopardo seems a gruff and distracted lover in the duet with Lucia, but he finds his ardor later, after Lucia’s death, and he dies wonderfully, ending the opera with rapt singing. Baritone Gino Quilico is far too elegant a singer to be the pushy Enrico.

There is little chemistry animating this cast, whatever the relationships. During the Wolf’s Crag scene, in which Edgardo and Enrico confront each other, neither did a very good job of expressing murderous hatred. At one point when they sing together, standing side by side, facing the audience, each in the same position holding his sword laid flat in outstretched palms, one almost expected them to break into a two-step.

The livelier characterizations were, ironically, the less stellar ones. Moved into the limelight from L.A. Opera’s admirable Resident Artist Program, Jamie Offenbach was a warmly human and caring Raimondo, Lucia’s chaplain and confidant; and Charles Castronovo used his little time on stage to exactly identify the foppish Arturo and properly underscore Lucia’s distress. Megan Dey-Toth as Lucia’s maid and Gabriel Gonzalez as the soldier Normanno also provided small details of drama that proved helpful beyond the limited scope of their roles.

Richard Bonynge, who may know this opera as well as any living conductor, led a flexible performance, his attention always more drawn to the singers and their support than to creating a theatrical atmosphere. The score was uncut. The orchestra sounded underrehearsed, the chorus enthusiastic.

The nondescript production, which comes from Opera New Zealand and was staged by Jonathan Alver, has but one compelling scene, the final one, in a snowy landscape. John Verryt’s set, dominated by a large painting and some bits of castle architecture, is mostly gloomy, most of the color coming from illuminated cutouts of stormy sky.

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* “Lucia di Lammermoor” continues Saturday, 1 p.m., and June 2, 5, 8, 11 and 13 at 7:30 p.m., $25-$137, Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. (213) 365-3500.