Washington, DC. (North America).(Opera Review)

If you're going to spend another couple of doom-and-gloom hours with a bunch of vengeful, wrong-conclusion-jumping, murderous, suicidal Scots, it helps to have the kind of engaging vocalism, conducting and direction that Washington Opera served up in a new production of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor (seen Sept. 14 at the Kennedy Center).

It was possible to quibble about some of the staging, which updated the plot to a vague place in the early-nineteenth century (even the projected titles downplayed Scottish references), and an aspect or two of the singing. But, in the end, the essential nature of the drama in the opera was faithfully respected, even enhanced in some ways, while the force of Donizetti's score came through intensely.

Elizabeth Futral offered nearly everything as Lucia. She negotiated coloratura lines unflinchingly and put a telling spin on each phrase. Her acting bore into the character's heart and soul, illuminating the sad progression from girlish, lovesick maiden to a deranged creature who wandered through her wedding guests in a daze and planted a kiss on her horrified brother's lips, mistaking him for Edgardo. Though a steely edge in the upper register took some of the bloom off her otherwise eloquent, subtly embellished accounts of "Regnava nel silenzio" and "Quando rapito in estasi," the mad scene was delivered with exceptional vocal solidity, beauty and, above all, imagination. Futral's cadenza was a knockout, containing lots of individualistic touches, capped by a wonderfully strange countermelody to the solo flute's reprise of the love duet--a perfect musical illustration of Lucia's unraveled mental state.

Alfredo Portilla, as Edgardo, used his fairly robust tenor with sensitivity and, aside from a few intonation slips, control. This was elegant singing with considerable emotional depth. Jorge Lagunes blustered his way through the role of Enrico; more finesse and tonal variety (and less ham-handed acting) would have been welcome. As Raimondo, Stephen Morscheck lacked volume ...