Cincinnati.

The American premiere of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor was sung in French, not Italian. Lucie de Lammermoor, created for Paris in 1839, was performed in New Orleans in 1841, but this French version subsequently fell out of favor. Recently, though, a production of Glimmerglass Opera and Boston Lyric Opera put Lucie back on the American stage, and in June it travelled to Cincinnati Opera.

Today, the French version seems more a curiosity than anything, although it is potentially a more sparkling vehicle for its star since its key is a step higher. The problem lies in stylistic decisions when one is singing French words to unabashedly Italian music. The text was unintelligible most of time on opening night (June 26), and the singers had varied success in communicating this Italian-French hybrid.

Compared to Lucia, Lucia is more streamlined. Alisa, Lucia's maid, is gone, the chaplain has a lesser role and Normanno (now Gilbert) has increased importance as the double agent who lays the ground-work for Lucie's betrayal. There are also musical changes, but the one that disappointed Cincinnati's traditionalists was the absence of the harp solo in Scene Two.

Various elements in the production staged by Mark Streshinsky and conducted by Jean-Marie Zeitouni alternately pleased or puzzled. Luckily, the title role went to the 30-year-old American soprano, Sarah Coburn, whose performance was riveting. Her effortless high notes, beautiful line and bell-like, agile coloratura were evident from her entrance aria, as she irresistibly navigated the difficult "Que n'avons-nous des ailes" from Donizetti's Rosmouda d'Inghilterra (apparently the preference of Fanny Tacchinardi-Persiani, who sang the French premiere). The Mad Scene, sung as she rolled and staggered while strewing an armful of red petals, was a tour-de-force sung with a voice of liquid gold and touching emotion. She tossed off impossibly high vocal fireworks in the cadenza, performed with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra's principal flutist, Randolph Bowman, and topped off with a prolonged and fearless high F.

If only her leading men had been as fearless. As Edgard, Mark Panuccio's usually impassioned tenor failed to project convincingly until his farewell scene at the Ravenswood family tomb. Gaetan Laperriere, too, was uneven--dramatically capturing the oppressive character of Lucie's brother, Henri, but sounding blustery, unclear and behind the beat. His ensembles were a success, particularly with Coburn and with Jeremy Cady, who, as the scheming Gilbert, exuded malevolence.

The bright light among the men was Alain Coulombe, whose vocal power and sympathetic presence delivered a compelling portrayal of the chaplain. John McVeigh's pure, attractive tenor was an asset in the expanded role of Arthur, the hapless groom.

To a Midwesterner, John Conklin's set might recall a steel mill rather than the Scottish Highlands. A forest of tilted panels, which reflected clouds, surrounded the characters. Thomas C. Hase's imaginative lighting did wonders amid this bleakness.

Streshinsky's staging of the principals was effective, but the chorus could do little more than stand frozen on the set's multi-levels. A ballet of two dancers as a doe and stag was a charming addition that echoed the story in orchestral interludes, though leaving Henri holding a pair of antlers in the final scene was symbolism gone awry.

The chorus sang wonderfully, despite their curious attire: Dutch Masters outfits for the men and voluminous red gowns with headgear for the women. In the pit, Zeitouni's conducting was surprisingly heavy-handed, given his magical touch in Chabrier's L'etoile here in 2006. Nevertheless, the Cincinnati Symphony musicians contributed some fine moments. This was, after all, Donizetti and somehow the sum of the parts added up to a compelling evening.