Some operatic heroines receive more sympathy than others and, while it may be a stretch to think kindly of Lucrezia Borgia, in Donizetti’s version she does deserve some in the end.

This version begins when she is already on her fourth husband, Don Alfonso, and has tracked down her son, Gennaro, who has been brought up by foster parents without knowing his parentage. When he first meets her, he is drawn to her, although once his pals have pointed out who she is, he despises her for a Borgia, and defaces her palace. Don Alfonso has the vandal arrested and Lucrezia, not knowing the identity, seeks his death. Only the worst can happen now.

Gennaro (Thomas Elwin) and his five friends form a strong musical ensemble, with Katie Coventry a charming Orsini, devoted to Gennaro and determined to live and die by his side.

Much of the second act is taken up with the somewhat tense and heated relations between Alfonso and Lucrezia. Aidan Edwards as Alfonso is implacable, assuming that Gennaro is Lucrezia’s lover, and forcing her to pour the poisonous wine to kill him. Sides’ portrayal is both locked in her emotions and barely in control of them; all her life, Lucrezia has lived surrounded by danger, so often a pawn in others’ power games and this is just one more.

Alfonso having stalked off once the poison was administered, Lucrezia urges Gennaro to take the antidote and leave town. Elwin is anguished – how can he believe her, maybe it’s the antidote that’s poisoned – and Sides is ever more distraught.

Boys being boys, he is talked by Orsini into staying on for a party. Director Eloise Lally sets the scene in a bath-house, where the young men lounge around, drink wine, and indulge in badinage – only, the wine is poisoned and, when Lucrezia arrives to gloat over the men who mocked her in Act 1, she discovers her son still with them, and refusing to take the antidote. Elwin’s death is beautifully controlled, his voice quieter and quieter till there is nothing. Sides’ grief is palpable; she discloses she is his mother, and divests herself of her heavy brocade gown. The slim white underdress accentuates her vulnerability and helplessness as she cradles the head of her dying son.

Designer Adam Wilshire and lighting designer Ric Mountjoy create a sense of foreboding in the darkness of the wrought iron set within Cordelia Chisholm’s box frame. It reflects the feel of Donizetti’s music – soaring lines in lilting, waltz-time melodies with an element of menace in the underlying harmonies. The menace is amplified by Alfonso’s servant Rustighello, who sees Gennaro and his mates into the trap. Matthew McKinney never stops, always alert, watching, observing, his actions clearly reactions to what he sees, hears, senses, his singing conversational.

The Old Street Band, conducted by Gerry Cornelius, is on fine form, supporting those lilting melodies, ensembles, adding to the pervading atmosphere of peril. There are so many fine things in this performance to make it memorable.