What do we want in historical romance? Should it reflect its time or provide an escape from it? Fact and fiction often collide in opera, but balancing these ideas proves both interesting and difficult in Charles Edwards’ new production. I’m a Puritanthe first at the Metropolitan Opera in more than four decades. The star-crossed couple—puritan Elvira and staunch royalist Arturo—are torn apart first by Arturo’s differing loyalties and, more disturbingly, by Elvira’s growing madness. And while the 17th Century is a historical background, I’m a Puritan shows more 19th-century Italian opera than the English Civil War: scenes of madness and cries of “la patria!”
Edwards’ production combines both historical context and adds another psychological touch to your usual horror; maps of Plymouth under siege are revealed, and chyrons appear to bring glimpses of the English Civil War timeline. There’s more than one crazy green sequence where our ghostly characters float across the scene. Elvira paints a series of outrageous portraits that recall more AP Art portfolios than Robert Walker, and in the climactic scene, she throws herself across the room and slams her arm into one of them. There’s a lot going on here, in other words.
For opera music that holds fast to its historical context, this approach can be instructive and compelling, however I’m a Puritan The English Civil War is used primarily to provide obstacles for lovers. More history, instead of heightening the drama, takes it away. Everyone seems too smart to care about these stars when the audience is constantly reminded that the Scots are besieging the city. I’m a Puritaneven more than similar books, he insists that the difficulties of love take precedence over the horrific events of the time. Edwards’s drive to develop a dark mood simply exposes the myopia of Bellini’s opera.
It’s no surprise that the director is primarily a set designer, what works well on sets. The first act places the audience in a brutal and dramatic Puritan meetinghouse, without sacrificing visual interest or demeaning its setting. Paved seats and a raised pulpit gave Edwards many levels on which to place his musicians, lending all the music—especially the first act—a variety of reception. Newcomer Tim Mitchell’s lighting is stunning, with a painted sensibility that sees large shafts of light thrown down on the characters’ faces from rear windows or out of fiery darkness, half-shadowed but still recognizable as a Caravaggio painting. Later, the Puritan meeting house splits, the light shining on the stage as if to show us the frame of Elvira on the walls. The collaboration between Edwards and Mitchell makes this production one of the best looking things of the last few years.
Edwards’ ability to create arresting tableaux is a great strength, as is his commitment to moving artists; a common criticism of mine is that the directors don’t always know how to manipulate the Metropolitan Opera’s main stage to have a big enough impact, leaving the singers parked below the stage or walking aimlessly on the floor with nothing to interact with. But often, productivity allows for busyness or adds confusion to an already complex structure. The background characters draw the principals’ attention during arias, the difficult drawings increase the space, and the use of the double children of Arturo and Elvira in scenes of madness and dream sequences is not particularly expressive or emotionally compelling. This is Claus Guth’s place Salome may have succeeded with this strategy earlier this year, but let’s not go overboard. There are a few other missteps that hurt this product. Gabrielle Dalton’s costumes are versatile and beautiful, and she can make even Puritan characters look sophisticated and expensive, but her choice to style Elvira in Act III as a pixie-cut-sporting waif recalls Anne Hathaway as Fantine Les Misérables too close to my taste.
Lisette Oropesa, a soprano I always admire, was brilliant and sultry as the brooding Elvira, singing what sounded like a record number of crazy scenes. The slow cavatinas showed Oropesa at his best—rich rivers of mixed, lively sound—but the vocal fireworks expected from the cabalettas didn’t have enough sparkle, with moments of active coloratura and a few breathy, subdued notes. Laurence Brownlee, who recently became charming as Tonio in La Fille du Régimentit was an unusually strong Arturo, with a balanced sound, a bright front that was well balanced with depth. He is well suited for this role; although he did not take advantage of Brownlee’s charm, his Arturo was almost irresistible and gained momentum as the opera drew to a close.
As the couple’s main rival Riccardo, Artur Ruciński was another standout. He has a dimensional, sweet baritone that relies on the bass for its richness; the Act I aria “Ah, per semper” was a wonderful emotional high point, as was her scene with Christian Van Horn’s Giorgio. Van Horn, with a soothing steel bass, was convincing and heartfelt as Elvira’s lovable uncle and lawyer. Eve Gigliotti has little to do as the secret queen Enrichetta, but she delivers a lot of buzz in her brief time on stage.
All the musicians are supported by veteran guest conductor Marco Armiliato, a generous and sensitive interpreter of Bellini, able to bring out both the beauty and the occasional military percussion with grace.
Although Edward’s production enters a dangerous focus in the third act—his decision to arrange the final moments of the opera with Arturo embracing his father’s ghost was strange and absurd—there is still much to be admired for his bold visual style, even if his ideas struggle with the delivery of his material. Arturo and Elvira’s love affair ends with surprising relief; Cromwell’s strength saves the day and, madness forgotten, the lovers can meet again. I’m a Puritan it’s a tragedy with a happy ending, which always feels forced and silly no matter what. At its best, it shows that part of romance that always offers hope—that love can temporarily conquer history.
On another note, you won’t be seeing much of me in the pages of the Observer moving forward, and to everyone reading this, I want to thank you. As a scholar and artist, writing these reviews means a lot to me, as does the work of the Observer editorial team who have polished and published my writings. It has been a deep honor and an incredible pleasure to write on this forum, although this is not goodbye. If you’d like to continue reading my articles and updates, including a preview of the 2026 season with all the things I’m looking forward to hearing this year, use this link to sign up for my email list. Happy New Year to all—may yours be filled with opera. With that, exit Madam Ferrari. Continue to the next section!
