Ronald Duncan's libretto is based on Livy's history, Shakespeare's poem "The Rape of Lucrece," and the 20th century French play by Andre Obey, Le Viol de Lucrèce. Bracketed, strangely, by the introductory information that the story takes place 500 years before the birth of Christ and an epilogue of devotion to Christianity, the story is about the Etruscan prince Tarquinius Sextus and his violation of the virtuous Lucretia, devoted wife of the Roman general Collatinus.

In the vortex of material, there are historic references to the Etruscans' role in Roman history; hideous verbal debasement of women; and an overarching, incongruous Christian context; but the rape of the title is the central story. The first act leads up to it, the second act begins with the scene itself, and the finale and epilogue deal with its consequences, which, in fact, included the Romans' successful overthrow of Etruscan rule. Poor Etruscans are really getting it in the neck from Britten's librettist, the alternative to their evil deeds posed as "the only virtue that has Christ on its side." A greater historical-ethical-religious concoction may be difficult to find in the (already convoluted) annals of operatic epistemology.

None of this matters against the overwhelming impact of the music: the robust music of Tarquinius' ride to Rome; the beautiful night music of the Act I finale; the motetlike quartet commenting on the rape scene; the gloriously complex music of contradictory and conjoining motifs throughout the work of angular, brutal sounds, intricate figures, and melting beauty — contrasts similar to those of Strauss' Electra. Devices such as Lucretia's six-note theme (an ingenious quintuplet-plus-upbeat on the piano, played as an elegant, wistful ostinato by Hadley McCarroll) drive the music home powerfully.

Played against period costumes, the two narrators/interpreters/commentators — the Male Chorus and Female Chorus — appear in modern dress, which works well except for quirky touches, such as the use of earphones at one point (symbolism difficult to fathom). Trey Costerisan and Melody Moore turned in affecting, dramatically outstanding performances. Costerisan measured up to the demanding role, which requires the singer to hold our attention through the entire work — at least in this production. Moore, a current Adler Fellow, is an exceptional singer with a powerful voice and an uncanny ability to be not only on key, but on the note, on the money; her singing blends with instruments more effectively than most singers I know. With her musicality and intelligence, Moore should find that the sky is the limit.

Darla Wigginton, in the title role, built her performance steadily, using her powerful but rather raw voice successfully, peaking just right in Act II. Daniel Cilli's Tarquinius impressed with a big, vigorous, and (appropriately) virile voice, which has a great and flexible range from bass to effortless high baritone. Meagan Todd's Lucia introduced a high soprano which, with more training, is likely to become a factor on the local music scene.

A general statement of praise for the orchestra is insufficient; they must be recognized individually for their selfless and first-class ensemble playing under Palmer's baton. Besides McCarroll (who played both the transcribed harp parts and piano accompaniment for recitatives), the roster: violinists Claude Halter and Rita Lee, violist Charith Premawardhana, cellist Vanessa Ruotolo, David Aaron (bass), Michelle Caimotto (flute), Ann Lavin (clarinet), Erin Irvine (bassoon), Peter Lemberg (oboe), Diane Ryan (horn), and Michael Passaris (percussion). Bravi!

Diction was good all around, but the inconsistent supertitles — varying between summaries, partial text, and blank screens — were distracting rather than helpful. Hard as it may be to project all the text of a talky work like this, that must be the way (that or sticking with scene-setting descriptions), because hearing one thing and reading another is confusing. What works for Italian or German operas does not in the case of English-language works.