HGO: A mostly unerring Turn of the Screw eerily haunts the Wortham - Amanda Roocroft (HGO debut), Andrew Kennedy - Neil Armfield production

Benjamin Britten’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, to paraphrase Neil Armfield, represents (stasis of) being in a most utopian sense caught in a state of childhood (purity and) innocence. Armfield very successfully produced Midsummer Night's Dream here a year ago. Both enclosed within, handed out openly is ideal of being free of the corruption by adult world all about – Dream construed as oasis or Eden amidst a very dry or arid land.

After catharsis like Turn of the Screw, it should be. Houston Grand Opera scheduled the appearance of these two pieces, a year apart, in flip order, leaving so to speak (paraphrasing Peter Quint) 'ceremony of innocence all drowned' at last. Midsummer Night’s Dream exquisitely blossoms out within the oeuvre of Benjamin Britten, and vice versa, became the flip side of this setting of Henry James. The simplicity with which Neil Armfield approaches the operas of Britten remains paramount here. Such remains a virtue for what is the shortest of three taken on so far here but also the most complex of them in numerous ways. In it is quite a challenge, and if not met here in all aesthetic ways possible, still a very strong attempt at it. Numerous elements to this Turn of the Screw made it very well worth going to see it.

HGO music director Patrick Summers was at the helm. With orchestra involving fourteen musicians, he at times could be found only as strong as his weakest link. Weak links - every participant in this a soloist - out of HGO orchestra ranks, were not too numerous - just sufficient to be distracting. Even though the magic of Screw is of a very dark and sinister quality, none of this element should be rendered neutral at all, there also being those episodes composed to sound innocuous instead.

As cited in Phyllis Howard’s commentary on Turn of the Screw (Cambridge), the work came under a little drubbing by the composer Malipiero for leaving all the scoring for this opera precariously exposed. Strongest in this ensemble were the playing of Elisabeth Priestley (oboe), Dennis Whitaker (double-bass), Barrett Sills (cello), Sarah Cranston (horn) and also Bethany Self (keyboards). Weakest were first, second violins, including HGO concertmaster Denise Tarrant, flute, and percussion (two players).

Gian Francesco Malipiero mentioned acute need for each part to havee to register at or near height of its expressive potential for (the) chamber music scoring to work; he construed this unable to match realistic expectations. Such became true when command of one’s instrument with Britten’s purposefully awkward writing became tentative.

Even though Britten uses tone rows, here the central row based on ascending perfect fourths in whole tone spelling for his theme and variations structure, his adaptation of such is not serial. This is so, even while manipulating tone centers half-tones apart. Even so, his development of his material is interwoven, complex laced with much symbolism. There is even some of what is called a hard kernel to some of the musical symbolism that must be heard, even if subconsciously, for this music to fire off on all cylinders. Enough of what element was here to make the HGO Turn of the Screw effective; still more on part of Summers and his players one would hope could have been possible. Acute ear for balances and interaction between varied activities going on was lacking, especially with gaps in playing quality from a handful of soloists therein.

Patrick Summers, when not hamstrung by limitations listed above, has come a good part of the way in coming to grips with Britten’s complex vision here. He made mostly good choice of tempos, moving the action forward well, and drew out of Britten’s music many of its numerous colors and implications. However, there were a number of moments that sounded pushed – some of for instance Peter Quint’s melismatic sextuplet lines, when doubled by orchestral players – played in rhythmic space at times for what might fit five sextuplets instead of six – during finale to Act One but not there alone. Due in part to dull flute playing, contrast in color between opposing sonorities of a pristine nocturnal D Major and encroaching sinister A-Flat tritone below (or from below) was compromised in scene (‘The Tower’) during which Peter Quint is first sighted. Duet for horn and celesta was introspectively very effective for one of the opera's more expansive interludes (called variations). Extended mostly unaccompanied solo for oboe (Priestley) with sinister insinuations from double-bass also fully made its impact.

Some high raising of arms in the air in what Summers turned into a somewhat scherzo-esque close to the scene immediately preceding variation and closing scene - passacaglia for final scene closing out the theme and variations design to the whole opera - exacerbated instead of effectively raising dramatic tension to anticipate the finale. All fortunately did cumulatively come together as building toward what resulted in the harrowing final moments of this opera. That Summers indeed has at least some ear for what goes on here became evident during the playing of very icy sonorities from string harmonics toward end of Act One and incisive staccato for ‘atonal’ leaning fugato interlude midway through Act Two.

Neil Armfield was most deft at finding just the proper amount of space between rear mirror laden casements for ghosts to appear and then often descend out of view, often walking backwards. Not just as path of least resistance, Armfield deftly chose to leave it up to the viewer how to halfway correctly interpret what is going on. With such there was certailnly neither ambiguity betrayed nor explanation added, solution found that perhaps not even Britten or his librettist may have intended for us to have. Costuming was period, most effective with the billowing dress in which one found Miss Jessel and that for boy Miles - with how light from rear would hit him as covered in long white nightshirt and also in making procession in front of mirrors costumed in purple robe with Flora in white.

Moving of casements around on stage between scenes - even as tightly encroaching on quartet of singing actors at one point - was unerringly effective. Some subtle emphasis could perhaps have been found however, for early scenes of nursery rhymes for Miles and Flora, with for comic relief just the playfulness of these scenes emphasized, that music here was left alone to provide. It is perhaps churlish to mention since better perhaps to do nothing instead of too much some other ways in handling such passages.

A long crumpled sheet of iridescent fabric supplied river or symbolism thereof for the set in an uncannily effective way. Especially the dramatic rolling back of it at end of scene where Flora, while being taken away by Mrs Grose, claims to be able to see nothing of any ghosts haunting the Governess was quite a coup de theatre. A flaring purplish red with which it showed up once or twice, as opposed to a dull gray as it first appeared made for great contrast in both what one would expect and to dark coloration all about. Contrast between sets for the first two scenes of Act Two was also very effective. For colloquy between the two ghosts - the tall mirror casements are quite oppressively to front of the stage, light smoke billowing forth from behind. ‘The Bells’ featured ample semblance of normalcy with fine wide-angle view of most of the stage and clear lighting.

In terms of interaction between characters, most of this was also effective – with what challenge it might pose to make the children appear possessed. Both Andrew Kennedy (Peter Quint) and Tamara Wilson (Miss Jessel) looked malevolent – with it being left subjective how much of such malevolence, if any at all, should be perceived by anybody else, either on or off stage – Neil Armfield’s way of showing complete respect.

Amanda Roocroft made probably the most important HGO debut for 2009-2010 here thus far as the Governess. Her command of musical idiom was absolutely complete. Her revealed a woman certainly rattled, slightly unnerved by presence of evil at Bly (country house at which most of this takes place), but a bit blandly to make some of the neurosis of the Governess subdued; this may have been on purpose. With warm tone, she encompassed the vocal range of this part with ease, Roocroft made count the doting, overweening characteristics of the Governess toward Miles especially. During ‘The Tower”, so evocative of night, she floated what are on the surface her calm lines over crest of high B-Flat with fine ease, while expressively giving hint of inner agitation - obvious why moments later with first sighting of Peter Quint.

Accompaniment for the Governess’s musings (just past start of Act 2), “Lost in my labyrinth,” sounded a little more like a scramble from especially upper strings than it should. Roocroft made quasi-heroic, with clearly suggesting absence of stable basis for it, the Governess's confidence in rescuing Miles. She then moments later made so distraught her quoting his mysterious song, ‘Malo’, right before last curtain fell.

Judith Forst was the dramatically involved Mrs Grose, as character ineffective, passive toward hope of curbing the Governess’s neuroses, but singing a part lying slightly high for her at this stage of her career. Her “Dear God, is there no end,” refrain starting and re-starting arioso during fifth scene (“The Window”), carried sufficient force, but with percussion underneath (so often unvaried in dynamics) too much louder than doubling violins of her lines for good support to them here.

The last role for HGO studio alumna Tamara Wilson at the Wortham was Amelia in Verdi’s Bsllo in maschera; it obviously stressed her beyond vocal capacity to sustain it. For Roocroft being also lyric - the Ballo Amelia not quite being suitable for her either - Roocroft projected more loudly than Wilson singing together with her - Wilson the brighter on top. The intelligence of Wilson in having avoided doing much damage by engaging in such previous misadventure became obvious in her fine limning of Miss Jessel here. Standing next to Andrew Kennedy, a definitive Peter Quint, Wilson was undaunted here in having to cover a wide range - with need to project well throughout. She elicited too a decent ear for the odd intervals and spacing in her part while making the menace of her text so elaborately set to music count also. With Kennedy having to opt for something more subtle, Wilson’s Miss Jessel was the more obviously menacing figure on stage for this. Wilson’s tone for low notes had the right covered, dark quality in contrast with much brighter sound on top. With decent legato at last she capitalized fully on making all her lines count here, each of them with what punch she could give them.

Matching Wilson vigorously was Joelle Harvey as Flora. Harvey conveyed the manner of a young girl with her petite appearance on stage, but vocally revealed some real carrying power that at times betrayed vocal maturity to extent one practically had to suspend disbelief. Her gangly acting and countenance went much distance in making up for such lapse – conveying some hope too of Flora being able to stand up to situation all about.

By way of contrast was the obviously more passive Miles of Michael Kepler Meo. One saw through Meo definitely the more brooding, introverted child from among the two - and appearing the more possessed throughout. In spectral manner, tone was often covered to the point of being slightly too reserved. A few notes failed to quite adequately speak beyond the footlights. He had to have on purpose projected a somewhat resinous, hollow tone, almost as to resemble wooden (alto) flute in low register; his doing so conveyed much mystery. With Miles eventually put on the defensive, he made his lines take on all clarity and incisive attack necessary.

Guiding many of his steps through this was the chilling Peter Quint of Andrew Kennedy, much of which played as simply though deceptively innocuous at least up until near - at least while in company of others - point he goads Miles to steal the letter. From starting as Prologue, Kennedy’s clarity of line and with text, making all speak most effectively, was absolutely first-rate. He sounds like a high baritone at times, but with free extension up fairly high – never going excessively so here – projecting with fine ease and subtle variety some very artful writing in so many melismas, chains of sextuplets. He disallowed being rushed too much through this, as to otherwise deny himself full shape to such passages. He was heard acoustically placed on stage and off in subtle variety of ways engaging such – considering the varied multicultural allotment of sources upon which Britten drew for writing Peter Quint. His timbre and artistry would suit his ideally being cast here as Pelleas for Debussy HGO has never yet staged before. We would do well to attempt bringing Kennedy here for a full evening of recital as well.

With several changes to orchestral personnel and a little more rehearsal, familiarity with this work, it would be interesting to hear what better stab Summers might make at Turn of the Screw, toward making it a more complete experience. One would ideally seek something still more specifically eerie out of this than felt already at Wortham Center this week – so much that Britten acutely points out in his scoring in manifold subtle ways.

Guiding hands and voices of especially the malevolent Peter Quint (Andrew Kennedy) and of the Governess (Amanda Roocroft), in addition to the fine staging excellently compensated toward leading this where it should go. I surmise too their influence abetted Tamara Wilson toward making Miss Jessel so sinister as she accomplished here. It was such, should be that Turn of the Screw, Neil Armfield and his cast of his players all leave us, via intended psychological murk throughout, asking more questions than finding answers.

ENO Peter Grimes: Alden and Britten's dark night of the soul

Long expected by now that perhaps the socially correct way to approach Britten’s Peter Grimes is to stress more the poetic side of both the character and work, with sea still forming the dark orchestral backdrop. Tragedy at hand should then just simply play itself out against so much. Some of us got to see wherever Jon Vickers do Grimes; within his very individual approach there still remained much poetry. The affectation of Grimes being sophisticated either socially or culturally went by the wayside – apart from poetic knack to respond as Grimes does to sea, sky above surrounding him. Lyric of Chicago almost ten years ago featured Ben Heppner as Peter. His interpretation halfway effectively emulated that of Vickers.

In the thirty-two years since Vickers did Grimes in Houston – not to discredit Pears – I do not recall running across a performance of this anywhere (more recent than that of Vickers at Convent Garden) quite like what transmitted last week from BBC. No other performance of Grimes has felt led so much by who played Peter Grimes, as happened with Vickers. Here it was instead as led by conductor, producer, excellent Grimes, and strong supporting cast all working very closely together – for English National Opera’s very new David Alden production, with Edward Gardner conducting and Stuart Skelton strongly leading a fine cast. If such could be achieved merely by much loud playing and singing - with wall close to prompter's box against which voices and orchestra can ping - the Met’s Peter Grimes (also in HD) last year represented a high standard. Had ENO settled for this though, you would read something different here.

Benjamin Britten, when he wrote Peter Grimes, had not yet made the advances in his musical language evident in his Cello Symphony, Owen Wingrave, and Death in Venice. While still in his thirties, he had yet to establish himself, while already a very socially controversial figure. Edward Gardner set out, in very close tandem with David Alden to take a fresh look at Peter Grimes, just partly from perspective of what would follow later on from Britten. In assessing Gardner, supported by excellent orchestral playing throughout, I had to rethink a few criticisms I wrote down during Act One. Whereas there may have been some extra pushing and underlining of things, Gardner had really indeed the full and genuine impetus to do so in most instances.

Gardner, instead of guaranteeing us the cleanest or smoothest interaction between solo or choral and orchestral lines, made sure instead to point out, even irritatingly, the incongruity of interacting or confronting lines, for instance during Grimes telling Balstrode of day his first apprentice died. Motion of the waves in play with the steady, oblivious slow sea shanty of village folk at dawn Gardner also clearly delineated as musically incongruious, musically, but also in essence depicting the fragmented, tense state of village affairs. Britten said that he saw the townspeople in Grimes, as to their character and lives, as not so much shaped by the sea openly in their midst; they would indeed be the same anywhere one might put them. There was a claustrophobic feel to this performance, but observing parameters within which this work can still live and breathe – to readily be able to open out for moments of real pause for reflection on either what is happening or even well beyond what we see onstage.

Has there ever been a keener ear for clash of tonal centers in Peter Grimes between those one associates with the vision of Grimes and manner of the Borough than this? There was constantly here a full sense of the overtones infusing much Britten, of those pitches not written out, almost crying out to have been anyway. Gardner used such insight to enhance both the visceral quality of the drama and of Britten's music, as opposed to taking instead a heavy breathing method of doing so, rendering Grimes product of much tired cliché. Gardner very adeptly maintained wax and wane, natural ebb and flow all the way through. As opposed however to moment of repose that Runnicles found for Act Two, Scene 1 at the Met last year, Gardner ratcheted up the musical, dramatic tension of what indeed is the central scene here dramatically; action during this scene strongly helps catapult this tragedy forward.

The six sea interludes took on a dignity, nobility most unaffectedly almost unsurpasssably. Where there was the second or third mile to take to secure this, Gardner went there. Harmonic semi-tone clash at very end of Act 2 - with traces of Passacaglia still lingering most prominently in solo viola - extended out music we heard fifteen minutes earlier to the very end of the last phrase - sound still hovering all about to end of Act Two. Duet of French horns starting Act Two was emulated precisely expected bells ringing forth on a Sunday morning. The passacaglia, even with hard push made through its second and/or third variations, maintained fine poise and dignity. Gardner sprung rhythms very tight during Storm; contrastingly, the very peaceful yet simultaneously and insinuatingly ominous ‘Midnight’ starting Act Three Gardner characterized very well – with simplicity of an unable to be spoken meditative quality. Gardner also gave the sixth, unnamed Grimes interlude -incidence of fragmentation therein - a searing intensity – entirely up until very moment ball the orchestra drops out for final scene Grimes opens alone.

Stuart Skelton, with the intensity he brought to the title role, reminded one of Jon Vickers. He played Grimes alternatively as servile, deferential to his community, and very frightened. One might have asked for just slightly more space between lines during the mad scene. All both from looking deep within and intently at Peter Grimes score throughout Skelton made clearly heard. His voice, like Vickers, might not be ideally lyrical, from composer’s point of view, but he held what rough edge inherent to it in check. He thus fully evoked reverie within ‘the Great Bear and the Pleiades’ and then ‘dreams aria’ in Act Two, without employing quite as elaborate a range of nuance Vickers had commanded before. A greater simplicity of attack and with delivering numerous lines here, keeping Grimes still the rough fisherman, was very affecting.

Moments of violence in front of Balstrode during Act One – Grimes’ insistence on staying outdoors - and to close Act Two scene with Ellen Orford became nearly as terrifying as had it been Vickers. Heavy voice such as that of Skelton became entirely at service of both music and drama at hand. Skelton saw, slightly more than Vickers, feeling of extra need, even desire to conform to borough expectations – need to abnormally obsess over practical matters - in how he infused numerous lines. His dragging the beat emulating a distracted mind during ‘Old Joe has gone fishing’ indicated how immersed Skelton had by then become.

Amanda Roocroft made a very affecting Ellen Orford, even if occasionally slightly tremulous up high. Brokenness over predominantly the plight of Peter Grimes and of the new boy became forefront. Roocroft also made entreaty to a stubborn and resistant Grimes most imploring right before tragedy would strike yet again. Her standing up early on to the borough conveyed equally strong resolve, indicating woman not yet unmoored from hope of fixing what is at hand.

Gerald Finley, at behest of David Alden, played Captain Balstrode somewhat unconventionally as a young man. Doing so paid off interesting dividends. Balstrode’s gravitas as such, but by now a cliché and often somewhat tired one at that, may have been diminished slightly, but Balstrode’s empathy for Grimes Finley made complete at about every juncture. Balstrode's sense of humor, light of the character having been through some real experience himself, Finley made vigorously emerge - as episodically that of Ned Keene. Keene’s dealing, as in good voice, with Mrs Sedley, Auntie and the Nieces, was a natural to Leigh Melrose and very witty indeed. Balstrode’s closing lines, while confronting situation well beyond what he can fully assess or comprehend - in the questioning tone and character Finley provided for moment to speak them - were torture to the listener. Balstrode ended up here near as much victim therein as anybody.

The whiney, androgynous sounding Bob Boles of Michael Colvin was very insipidly funny, whereas so easy to mistake for Mrs. Sedley. The hectoring, church style intoned Swallow of Matthew Best, alongside sonorous Hobson of Darren Jeffrey and banal friendly Rector of Stuart Kale, was equally humorous - with Swallow showing up in the first scene of Act 3 for barn dance in pink tutu over greasy suit. The two nieces, fine otherwise, became shrill during Act Two quartet with Ellen and Auntie. Rebecca dePont Davies, with great knack, took Auntie a little over the top, in sounding terribly inebriated while engaged in some pontificating. She then very adeptly took on the very experienced, incisive Mrs. Sedley of Felicity Palmer. Choral work was not quite ideal, but paragon of stability next to recent outings for Royal Opera choral forces.

Begging pardon for overlooking much fine work from ENO orchestral principals, there is one last musician to mention - David Alden. He was nearly as responsible for this having been the musical success this was as much as a dramatic one. He spoke interviewed, in manner however mildly misunderstood; I am sure David will not take umbrage. For David, Britten’s Peter Grimes speaks to the gay consciousness of the time; David then briefly related the difference between how things were while growing up and how they are now.

There should likely be no issue with how David speaks on this. I however find, fully acknowledging David, and his professionalism, something mildly disingenuous. One listened in vain on BBC for common mannerisms with choral outburst of ‘Home’ at the end of Act One and ‘Him who despises us’ in Act Three - instead all played straight. Alden could, by numerous means have insisted otherwise; so secure he is however in getting what he really wants, he did not. Alden also spoke in metaphor of Peter and the sea, as of tempest on boil within both. He helped choreograph ‘Old Joe’ during Act One abstractly along lines of what one might see from ‘Grandma’ (Ruth Berghaus) several decades ago - with healthy dose of American vernacularism thrown right in. It so effectively made something stiff, even geometric out of this, while maintaining very imaginatively much heightened musical and dramatic tension. Acoustical spacing of the apprentice boy’s scream right before Act Two ended also had to be very exact.

David Alden so successfully universalized the message of Peter Grimes, conforming well - clarified in Claire Seymour’s Britten’s operas survey - with what Peter Pears has notably said numerous times – of the supposed homosexuality of Grimes not being an issue; Pears said he did not consider it there in the first place. At issue here was not so much sexual preference per se, or oppression against such, but the issue of self-expression, the ability to see and live unencumbered in a visionary way. On the flip side, there is the compulsion to conform to equally codified, arbitrary standards in any society, including that of our very own.

Britten, as Seymour has also implied, in including a level of sexual overtone in his writing for the part of Grimes, may have behaved self-incriminatingly with including such into portrayal of originally the character out of George Crabbe. Take for instance even Grimes’s manic insistence on need to conform to Borough expectations and to be accepted. David fortunately in full intellectual acumen, great confidence and experience at his disposal, seems to have abstained somewhat. Not having yet seen this production, it is tricky to comment on the claustrophobia of the stage design as presented at ENO.

I may have come down a little hard on the Met’s new Doyle production last season. Difference between these two, from just hearing both, was that one settled for mere formula of stagecraft. David though was content only with being able to take all of Peter Grimes head-on - with strong yet subtle knack at it - much as he would have us face it. The failure, expressed here the best I have ever heard it in many years, of all ending in a combination of utter hopelessness, oblivion for, yes, deranged but simply noble a character as Grimes - with continuum to issue forth from following daybreak - was heartrending. The truth of what is still a problem, must rear its ugly head most likely numerous times again, before we may ever ‘get it.’

May we see this on dvd, also Jenufa from ENO, starring Roocroft, which may have first been presented by Houston Grand Opera. This goes down, as even taking one back a good thirty year, in still a new way a most meaningful encounter. Anything comparable recently may only include very recent revival of Messiaen's St. Francois - and Il Trittico last year from Milan.