The Mad Scene in Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor has an iconic status. The descent down a grand staircase of the deranged bride in her bloodstained white gown, the long, distracted duet with flute, the elaborate cadenza with the flute still in attendance: this is the way Lucia was conventionally done until recently.

All credit, then, to director David Alden and conductor Paul Daniel for sweeping the stereotypes and accretions aside from their dark, revisionist new production of the work for ENO.

Here, Lucia is revealed on the floor but she then enters a theatrical space containing the bridegroom she has murdered. The wedding guests, seated at an oblique angle, observe the aftermath of the scene of butchery, as though it were a stage spectacle.

It's a brilliantly telling comment on the callous indifference of Lucia's family and friends, on the 19th century genre of gothic horror and on the showcase aspect of the Mad Scene itself.

But with the use of a new critical edition, the flute's gone too, replaced by the glass harmonica desired by Donizetti, which makes a sound of unearthly beauty perfect for the "celestial music" that Lucia in her delirium thinks she hears.

Gone, too, is the cadenza, which almost certainly came in much later anyway with Melba.

Here Lucia is sung by the American soprano Anna Christy, dressed not as a glamorous diva but as a helpless young woman corseted and repressed by a patriarchal society.

With her pure, well-schooled tone, Christy is in any case at the opposite end of the spectrum from a full-throated proponent of the role such as Callas.

Sinister castle-ruin sets (designer Charles Edwards), menacing, deep shadows (excellent lighting by Adam Silverman) and top-hatted figures (costumes Brigitte Reiffenstuel) appearing at and through windows all contribute to an overwhelming build-up of sexually charged, patriarchal oppression.

The climax to Act 2, where Lucia is forced to sign the marriage contract, only to find her lover, Edgardo, makes his melodramatic appearance, is a terrific coup de theatre, with a final tableau resembling one of the family photographs that symbolise the forces ranged against Lucia.

As Enrico Ashton, the grasping, groping brother who causes Lucia's misery, Mark Stone, who has emerged as one of Britain's finest young baritones, is quite outstanding.

Barry Banks's scruffy Edgardo (he has his own political agenda) injects a fine sense of desperation into the role.

Arturo, Lucia's short-lived bridegroom, is played as a whitesuitedcad by Dwayne Jones, while the chaplain Raimondo, having lost his voice early on, hammed his part from the stage with his understudy, the excellent Paul Whelan, singing from the wings.

Paul Daniels's expansive phrasing and taut control of rhythm underpinned a compelling musico-dramatic presentation.