The company’s overstuffed new staging of Bellini’s final work, set during the English Civil War, proves a marvelous vocal showcase for stars Lisette Oropesa and Lawrence Brownlee.
By
Heidi Waleson
Jan. 2, 2026 at 2:40 pm ET
Lisette Oropesa and Lawrence Brownlee KEN HOWARD / MET OPERA
It was fitting that the Metropolitan Opera celebrated New Year’s Eve with a new production of “I Puritani” (1835), as Vincenzo Bellini’s final opera is replete with vocal fireworks and splendid tunes. Like the two other bel canto works presented by the company so far this season—the new production of Bellini’s “La Sonnambula” and a revival of Donizetti’s “La Fille du Régiment”—it was luxuriously cast and conducted. Headlined by conductor Marco Armiliato, soprano Lisette Oropesa as the heroine Elvira and tenor Lawrence Brownlee as her beloved Arturo, this was a musically idiomatic and expressive traversal.
The challenges of those two roles are one reason that the piece is less commonly performed than other bel canto operas. Another is that its saggy plot (the libretto is by Carlo Pepoli, based on a French play) doesn’t make a lot of sense. Charles Edwards, who directed and designed this nominally traditional production, tried to solve that problem by keeping to the story’s original 17th-century period and magnifying its political background. The lovers are on opposing sides of the English Civil War. Elvira is one of Oliver Cromwell’s Puritans and Arturo a Cavalier, a supporter of the Stuart royal family. Remarkably, her family agrees to their marriage, but when Arturo discovers that the mysterious prisoner held by Puritans is Enrichetta, the widow of the executed King Charles I, he helps her escape. Elvira, believing herself betrayed in love, goes mad. Act 2 is about her madness; Act 3 about Arturo’s return and her recovery.
Mr. Edwards’s unit set is a wooden Puritan meeting house with banked pews and a towering pulpit in one corner; Gabrielle Dalton’s sumptuous costumes contrast the classic dour Puritan look—including big white collars and black hats—with the colorful satins of the Cavaliers (Arturo in baby blue, Enrichetta in yellow). So far, so straightforward. Mr. Edwards, however, has made some additions. First, there’s a pantomimed back story: During the overture, actors depicting the lovers as young teens flirt and are discouraged by adults. Then, in the first scene—a soldier’s chorus, a prayer and another chorus anticipating the wedding—he shows Elvira (still played by the actor) refusing to marry the Puritan her father has chosen. Scene 2, a scrim projection informs us, takes place eight years later, moving us back into the time frame of the original libretto.
Eve Gigliotti and Mr. Brownlee KEN HOWARD / MET OPERA
Directorial interpolations keep coming. Elvira is friendly with the prisoner Enrichetta (Eve Gigliotti) and draws the captive’s portrait as her uncle, Giorgio (Christian Van Horn), explains how he persuaded her father to let her marry Arturo; the two women do a happy dance during the cabaletta. When Riccardo (Artur Ruciński), the rejected Puritan suitor, shows up to thwart Arturo’s rescue of Enrichetta (who he thinks is Elvira), he gropes her drunkenly instead of dueling with his rival. In the final moments of Act 1, the now-demented Elvira jumps on the supine Riccardo.
Scrim projections between the acts inform us of the progress of the war. The meeting house grows progressively more dilapidated, and the costumes get shabbier, indicating that things aren’t going well for the Puritans. The opening chorus of Act 2, in which the Puritans grieve over Elvira’s madness, features a woman giving birth to a stillborn baby in full view of the community. Tim Mitchell’s lighting creates dramatic changes in tone, especially during Elvira’s hallucinations.
Some of the additions work. By Act 3, Elvira’s elegant white wedding dress has deteriorated into a filthy shift, her long mane of hair is cropped short, and she has painted numerous pictures of Enrichetta that are slashed with red, an outward manifestation of her grief-driven obsession. This helps give texture to her reunion with Arturo, in which she slips in and out of madness. But many of Mr. Edwards’s ideas feel imposed rather than organic—out of a need to illustrate lengthy vocal sequences or provide context that doesn’t really exist in the opera—and thus end up being distracting rather than illuminating. He also eschews the traditional happy ending. Rolando Villazón, the director of this season’s “La Sonnambula,” did the same, but in that case, the choice was theatrically consistent.
Christian Van Horn and Artur Ruciński KEN HOWARD / MET OPERA
The music, however, was top-notch. Ms. Oropesa’s limpid, flexible soprano brought a heart-tugging vulnerability to Elvira, and her pealing coloratura was both accurate and expressive. She was especially mesmerizing in her extended Act 2 mad scene—“Qui la voce” and “Vien diletto.” Mr. Brownlee’s tenor proved rock-solid in Arturo’s demanding music, from his exquisitely relaxed, almost languid opening aria, “A te, o cara,” to some punishing high Fs. Mr. Van Horn’s handsome bass-baritone made for a sympathetic Giorgio; Mr. Ruciński’s gravelly baritone brought out Riccardo’s macho arrogance. Their militant duet, “Suoni la tromba,” was a musical high point, only slightly marred by some “Braveheart”-style red and white body-painting for them and a phalanx of extra men. Ms. Gigliotti was an eloquent Enrichetta.
All the ensembles were stylishly handled, and the excellent Met chorus was skillfully woven into the texture throughout. The score has a military subtext—trumpets and drums are always interrupting happy scenes, and an ominous horn theme plays a major role. Fortunately, the orchestra, under Mr. Armiliato’s astute leadership, did better than the overstuffed staging in making that point clear.
AndyManshel.nyc 