La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi directed by Liat Kaplan and Joel Bard starring Laurie Ann McGowan, Frank Ragdsale and Michael Morizio at the Lowell House dining hall March 16, 18, and 19

A glance at the lift off previous Lowell House Opera productions shows that the company's repertoire is as varies as its history is long.

Since 1938, Lowell has brought to Harvard audiences baroque chamber opera one year, atonal and little-known modern works the next; effervescent Offenbach operetta is found alongside heavy Strauss works.

Thus, in keeping with this tradition of exploration, the company's superb production of La Traviata reaffirms the reasons for the work's immense popularity, as well as reminding audiences of today that there is as much enjoyment to be had in reviving the greats of yesterday as in testing those of tomorrow.

Verdi's 1853 musical adaptation of a play by Alexandre Dumas is the first of many works based on the timeless story of the two star-crossed lovers, the most well-known of which is the film version "Camille" with Greta Garbo. The story's adaptability to the opera stage, the ballet stage, and even the silver screen is remarkable, and perhaps is owed to the simplicity of the heroine's tragic plight. Called Violetta in Verdi's opera, she is a consumptive courtesan in the decadent world of mid-19th century Paris, older and more worldly than her counterpart Dumas' play.

In fleeing her hedonistic world with the one true love of her life, the young and adoring Alfredo Germont, she hopes to escape her "lurid' past and begin anew.

Her reputation follows close at her heels, however, and bring about her ultimate unhappiness and death. The nobility of spirit and purity of emotion with which Verdi infuses her character amplifies the tragedy of her situation and taps into the universal sympathy of the human beast.

At the time of the premiere, Verdi was himself living 'in sin" with his mistress, and this opera is fierce attestation to the moral confines of mid-19th century Europe.

Audience members today, living in a world that doesn't value marriage and feminine purity to such an extent in relationships, may not get such a message from the plot; however, Violetta's struggle against fate and the scars of her past continues to have widespread appeal.

This simple plot, combined with some of Verdi's most beautiful and expressive music, makes it one of the most operatic of operas, one of the most eloquent magnifications of human emotion through the use of music.

The setting of the work is one of its many attractive features, a world of fragile, superficial brilliance and frenetic epicureanism combined with the postured mannerisms and etiquette of decadent Parisian aristocracy. Lucy Deakins' simple set consists of two beige curtains through which the characters enter and just enough realistic furniture to convey a sense of luxury without presenting obstacles to the cast.

The noticeable lack of curtain makes tech antics part of the intermission attractions.

The chandelier of the dining room adds a serendipitous touch, though its potential brilliance is noticeably ignored in the lighting scheme. To the set Emily Baehr and Rosetta Lee add an eye-catching array of elegant gowns and tails for the cast, though leave your modern sensibilities about hairdos at the door--no woman's head is left untouched in the quest for historical accuracy.

Liat Kaplan's direction creates a slick synchronicity between characters, keeping the emotion at a dramatic rather than melodramatic level. In places, this results in woodenness, but it is kept to a minimum even in the potentially static second and third acts. Even in the most turgid moments of the plot the emphasis on appropriateness and refinement does not give way to the hackneyed and postured acting that has labeled opera in the minds of many as a dramatic dead end.

Instead, scenes such as those between Violetta and Alfredo's moral-minded father are characterized by the dignity with which Violetta conveys her grief at being forced to leave Alfredo and the sympathy she receives from his father. Certain stage directions are perplexing, such as Violetta's unexpected entrance onstage during the overture, but overall the plot unwinds with style and economy.

Perhaps one reason for the dramatic effectiveness of the production is its use of an English translation of the libretto. The clear diction of the cast ensures that no word is lost, even in the larger ensembles. The translation itself lacks any particular spice, and at times seems to support the argument that there really just is more room for redundancy in languages we don't understand than in English.

Fortunately, however, most of the time the words don't need to be poetry, but vehicles for the music. And the vocal and musical quality of the cast is consistently high. Laurie Anne McGowan as Violetta shows remarkable control of a powerful and expressive soprano voice.

She agilely soars through florid lines and shows great stamina in a work that demands her presence onstage almost constantly. Frank Ragsdale as her lover Alfredo possesses a lyric tenor voice that fills the hall effortlessly even in his quietest moments. They blend almost instinctively in their duets.

Michael Morizio as Alfredo's father Georges Germont contributes his warm, paternal baritone voice to complete the trio of main characters. These are supported strongly by Joel Derfner as the man-about-town Gaston, Emily Baehr as Violetta's friend and rival hostess Flora, and Benjamin Siris as Violetta's jilted "client" the Baron Douphol.

A very musical and handsome chorus completes the cast, whose loud denunciation of Alfredo's public shaming of Violetta in the second act is particularly powerful. Joel Bard's musical direction keeps the pace from dragging while making the most of expressive opportunities for the able and tightly synchronized orchestra. Of note is the delicate balance achieved of players and singers in the large ensembles.

The two party scenes are particular highlights of the production. The entire cast makes an elegant picture in which some of the tensest dramatic moments of the plot are framed.

The second of the scenes also contains two smooth dance numbers with undulating gypsy maidens and simulated bullfights. Joel Derfner's acrobatic performance as the riotously poker-faced bullfighter Piquillo is executed without missing a beat (or a breath) in the midst of his vocal performance as Gaston.

This year's Lowell House production wins its audience over with its simplicity and ability to convey the force of larger-than-life passions against the backdrop of decadent, aristocratic elegance. La Traviata sets musical gems in a sterling dramatic setting; the Lowell House Opera makes the opera's instrinsic worth the star of the show.