Coliseum
Peter Grimes – Stuart Skelton
Ellen Oford – Elza van den
Heever
Captain Balstrode – Iain Paterson
Auntie – Rebecca de Pont
Davies
First Niece – Rhian Lois
Second Niece – Mary Bevan
Bob Boles – Michael Colvin
Swallow – Matthew Best
Mrs Sedley – Felicity Palmer
Revd Horace Adams – Timothy Robinson
Ned Keene – Leigh Melrose
Hobson – Matthew Treviño
John – Timothy Kirrage
Dr Crabbe – Ben Craze
David Alden (director)
Ian Rutherford (assistant
director)
Paul Steinberg (set designs)
Brigitte Reiffenstuel
(costumes)
Maxine Braham (movement)
Adam Silverman (lighting)
Chorus, and additional chorus of the English National Opera (chorus master: Martin Fitzpatrick)
Orchestra of the English National Opera
Edward Gardner (conductor).
I am no uncritical Britten
fan; last year, we heard far too much not only of his music but of ludicrous
overrating – not his fault, more that of the English musical parochialism Britten
himself often struggled against. As so often, the sterner test comes when an
anniversary year has been and gone. In the present case, in a work more prone
to overrating than most, largely on account of the dearth of noteworthy English
opera during the nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. It was, however, not
only that test which was passed with flying colours; so too ENO triumphantly
dismissed malevolent – as opposed to constructive – criticism from philistine,
right-wing newspaper critics with no
understanding of opera as drama (nor, for that matter, as music).
This, in short, was far and away
the best staging of Peter Grimes I
have seen. If even these forces could not entirely conceal the weaknesses of
some sections of the score, then the dramatic fervour with which every aspect
of the performance was presented made them count for little. (Even I have to
admit that not every opera can be Wozzeck,
though I still find Britten’s third-act homage to the tavern scene a little too
close for comfort.) It was certainly the best conducting I have yet heard from
Edward Gardner. If he struggles in much of the central Austro-German repertoire,
he was clearly born to conduct Britten. If there were occasional moments of
imprecision, they were so few as to seem touchingly human. For not only was the
broad sweep of the musical drama searingly present; the constructivism of
Britten’s compositional method was lain bare too, not didactically, but with a
keen sense of its dramatically generative method. This held both throughout the
three acts as a whole, but also between them. Perhaps especially impressive was
the sense of material emerging in the first act, blossoming and withering as it
developed. Moreover, the ENO Orchestra and Choruses were on magnificent form
throughout. Weight and clarity were equally present, but so was a lighter touch
where necessary; so too was a plethora of dynamic shadings. Chorus master (and
assistant conductor) clearly merits plaudits of his own.
David Alden’s staging is,
quite simply, brilliant, just as much so as his brother Christopher’s more controversial Midsummer Night’sDream. (Please, ENO, may we see that again?) Post-modernism does not,
as often in Alden’s work, become overt and distracting; rather the tension
between a joyless, ‘austerity’ 1940s setting and moments and episodes of
heightened expressionism almost miraculously coheres. More than once I thought
of Brecht: not in the sense of ‘similarity’, but in the sense that his
dramaturgy seemed both extended and called into question. The hypocrisy of the
Borough almost presents itself, but the spiv-like portrayal of Ned Keene seemed
almost to evoke the world of Mahagonny,
reminding us that this is at least partly an essay in socialism as well as an
exploration of sexual repression. Presentation of Auntie as a Weimar lesbian
Master/Mistress of Ceremonies sounds out of context quite out of place; and
yet, it works, especially in a performance as committed as that offered by
Rebecca de Pont Davies. It also sheds interesting light on her relationship
with her Nieces, both disturbed and disturbing. (Abusive behaviour never lies far
beneath the surface of this vile community, yet it is often as much hinted at as
spelled out.) What leaves perhaps the longest and deepest impression, though,
is the handling of the crowd. When choreographed as expertly as here (Maxine
Braham), its madness as well as its viciousness, its sinister Daily-Mail provincial conformism and its
ready manipulation by those with hidden motives, play with frightening realism –
and surrealism.
Stuart Skelton’s portrayal of
the anti-hero was again, without qualification, the best I have seen and heard.
Skelton suggested that it is no luxury, but even a necessity, to have a Heldentenor in the role. There is no
doubting the strength of his voice – his excellent Seattle Siegmund last summer
offering further testimony to that – but just as impressive were the moments of
hushed arioso (‘Now the Great Bear and Pleiades’) and all manner of colours and
shades in between. The final scene showed just how movingly Skelton can act too
(even if Britten, alas, is no Mussorgsky here). It did no harm, of course to
have a Balstrode as sincere (and yet with quiet toughness) as that of Iain
Paterson, nor an Ellen Orford as compassionate and as silvery-toned (yet again,
though, with steel beneath the surface) as in Elza van Heever’s revelatory
portrayal. Felicity Palmer’s Mrs Sedley was quite beyond compare: Miss Marple
meeting Mary Whitehouse, with a generous dose of laudanum, a portrayal as
intelligently sung as it was acted. Leigh Melrose proved utterly convincing as
this especially sleazy Ned Keene, and Matthew Treviño revealed a dark, focused,
highly attractive bass as Hobson, the carrier. There was not a weak link in the
cast, nor in the performance as a whole. This is a production that absolutely
demands to be seen – and heard.
