HGO: Rape of Lucretia (debut). Striking, elusive finale to Britten series. Michelle De Young. Rory McDonald. Arin Arbus.

Houston Grand Opera has just opened its first formal staging of Benjamin Britten’s first chamber opera, Rape of Lucretia - written shortly after first real lyric stage success, Peter Grimes. The image of Lucretia, all ramifications of heroism, sacrifice implied, captured the imagination of many artists, painters - also inspiring earlier musical settings. Britten and his librettist, Ronald Duncan, looked to Andre Obey’s play, Le Viol de Lucrece, as their source. Partly due to toll war took on resources, Britten decided to write here then for smaller forces. His ear, already adept toward making sonorities of chamber music delicacy come to life, meant that choice this way contributed only little to his operating at somewhat of a strain here. His having to deal with dramaturgically difficult subject matter, static character thereof, plus difficult and verbose librettist contributed more this way. Toward keeping Rape of Lucretia viable work of art, Britten made psychological use of growing tonal palette ultimately toward making something elusive, distanced thus his setting of this story to music.

Michelle DeYoung, very successful Brangane at both Met and La Scala quite recently, played the title role. Anthony Dean Griffey, after successful rendition of Peter Grimes here last season, provided Male Chorus. Rory McDonald, apprenticing recently under Antonio Pappano (Royal Opera), made with Rape of Lucretia, his HGO debut, replacing Patrick Summers on relatively short notice, due one guesses apparently to administrative backlog pressing upon Summers nowadays. Arin Arbus, in her HGO debut, though little experienced in opera thus far, revealed good theatrical and aesthetic sense, all in part product of making healthy inquiry regarding this art form. Far better is this than conceit of producers too self-assured not to regard as first and foremost repertoire they will stage - instead of contribution they reckon primarily important.

Andre Obey relates Lucretia’s suicide as instrumental toward cleansing what corruption which prince Tarquinus’s wanton act has inflicted upon Rome. Loss to the Etruscans of tyrannical hegemony over Rome five centuries before Christ quickly became inevitable. For message Britten seeks to convey, political considerations get relegated well to the background. Duncan, Britten’s librettist, hardly compelling advocate for brevity, saw Lucretia’s suicide sufficient with which to end the piece. Britten however, not for musical purposes alone, perceived the need to less abruptly, thinly frame such incident. Inclusion of Christian symbolism, most of all dealing with the death of Christ, served for Britten clear purpose – universalized figure thus thereof superior at personifying atonement, sacrifice central to natural internalization of guilt, then on behalf of excusing the actions of others.

Breaking things down more, Britten as Clare Seymour has explaied, was not primarily interested in gender relations near as much as issue to do with the act of seduction itself, and division between pure beauty or chastity and desire or lust. In perceiving happenings among heterosexuals, some homosexual ideation certainly comes into play - eventually toward linking Lucretia with Billy Budd, Aschenbach in Death in Venice – considerable task to fully decode, elucidate. Otherness about Lucretia does not much emerge on the surface such as with antihero Peter Grimes. She is already viable leader in her community, blending in well, clearly unlike Grimes. Suicide in the Britten becomes her means to absorb some of the guilt involved for action in which she is truly innocent. Lucretia subconsciously, half consciously to us, significantly draws Tarquinius in, ultimately toward compromising, threatening her still worse. Tarquinius, less intriguing to Britten than Lucretia, has an undeniable passivity, also as depicted musically, even while turning violent. Junius, practical sidekick of his early on in Act One, is practically Tarquinius wannabe, and experiences similar drives but conscience restrained from ever (ideally) fulfilling them. All men, especially while at drink, are equally liable to getting drawn in thus, similar to Tarquinius. Unblemished feminine beauty, purity is, interpreted here, further incitement to lust. Quintuplet figures, representing Lucretia, litter the score, abundantly fill out extended vocal lines.

Mirroring between agent(s) and recipients of seduction became impetus, engine behind how Bob Carsen staged Mozart’s Don Giovanni at La Scala two months ago – some of which blocked by excessive infusion of additives - device, obsessing over such. Such device thus often became front and center, obstructing attention from action on stage and music to portray such, drive action forward, fill out either normally expected or surprised emotional reaction. What can obstruct maintaining healthy focus with Lucretia is the excessively verbose libretto of Ronald Duncan, deleteriously empowered thus, should one opt for an excessively purist or pristine either musical or dramatic approach.

Decision by Ariin Arbus and Rory McDonald, working in fine tandem was, if to err, to err then on the side of simplicity. Musical rewards, with taking such an approach, became abundant, in drawing out Britten’s rich, even if chamber forces subdued tonal palette. One can not draw out of twelve players, regardless how fine, what atmospheric compass, sweep Peter Grimes almost automatically provides.

Michelle DeYoung, enjoying first HGO visit since playing Venus in Tannhauser ten years ago, made a healthily voluptuous Lucretia, physically and vocally. She, though, for spinning scene first entrance, showed prudence to restrain opening out too much, thus revealing how internally aware Lucretia is of her station in life. Arioso, ‘How cruel men are” incisively evinced firm moral reproach, anticipating well taut response to Tarquinius’s assault - latter with defining moment, expressed darkly, incisively, ‘You, In the forest of my dreams.’ Anxiety, urgency expressed during garden scene was firm, distraught – but also while evoking hysteria for production to turn mildly blowsy, putting Lucretia’s value upon pure marital bliss slightly subject to doubt. The more pristine Brit approach might convey more authority – though leaving behind doubt of Lucretia’s ability to draw Tarquinius in. Two ringing acuti comfortably above the break distinguished one or two tense passages. Fine poise, dignity characterized much DeYoung contributed, even if perhaps quasi-verismo in approach at times.

Character contrast between Lucretia’s maidservants was abundant, between Lauren Snouffer’s pert, gracefully charming Lucia with alternatively light and clarion ringing top and Judith Forst’s earthily conscientious Bianca. A little fraying at the edges vocally became evident here from Forst. After stellar appearances in Turn of the Screw and Pique-Dame here two seasons ago. Gutsy urgency toward delaying, preventing Collatinus’s arrival in Act Two was telling. Forst, still conveying much ring of authority with text and all-knowing look on stage seldom seemed seriously encumbered by any vocal considerations. Leah Crocetto, with voice seemingly hybrid between mezzo and soprano, well conveyed look of moral authority, strong witness as Female Chorus, but toward higher reaches in the part mildly squally in tone and diction. Crocetto matched Griffey mostly well in unisons together and strutted forth in firm chest voice, with taut chutzpah marcia of ‘So here the grumbling Romans’ - memorably so. Additional lines within similarly confident reach also well got message across.

Contrast between sparring trio of in effect frat boys Collatinus, Junius, and Tarquinius, all quite similarly voiced here was at first, perhaps on purpose, hard to pick out. Ryan McKinny provided fine swagger, suave line, and in final scene with Lucretia, well attenuated empathy as Collatinus, if slightly lacking full tonal depth toward limning general’s lines more authoritatively. Guileless sense, naivete regarding what Lucretia might become up against elucidated well where perhaps some of Lucretia’s vulnerability may lie. Joshua Hopkins made ideal match vocally for Junius, capturing identifiably well the lad’s conscience stricken frustration restraining him from Tarquinius like conquest of Lucretia himself - almost always otherwise one seemingly merry, guileless lad. Jacques Imbralio, 2007 Cardiff finalist for auspicious HGO debut, with finest diction and phrasing of this lot, made earlier taunting, then suavely lascivious, ultimately consumed Tarquinius – with almost unrivalled fun and aplomb from amidst gang of three.

Thoroughly splendid was Male Chorus of Anthony Dean Griffey, providing illusion of this part being as dramatically engaged as, played eloquently here by Griffey before, Lennie and Peter Grimes. Diction - equally fine Imbrailo’s - was so distinctive, suavely conveyed that if not warned beforehand, hardly would it be credible that Griffey isn’t British. He made perfectly musical, astutely alert all spoken line anticipating Tarquinius’s approach to Lucretia’s inner chambers. Enveloping honeyed melos for stretching out lyricism was always at the ready to make point as specific as with furious reproach – nothing ever cloying. Some mystery remains how none of this conspicuously verbose part never seemed one line too long. If only Wagner could have made Gurnemanz a lyric tenor! Bravura for vocalized ‘ride to Rome’ interlude (Act One) was salaciously complete. Solo framing line (to unison of both choruses) such as ‘Christ, heal our blindness we mistake for sight’ hovered far beyond the footlights toward conveying universally extended balm, sublime bliss.

Arin Arbus, upon relatively simple set framed by Roman columns and steps, discreetly adorned by brick, stone, and garment (Jean-Guy Lecat), with named characters in traditional garb, Choruses in modern, displayed fine discretion and flexibility in drawing out fine, well nuanced realism from all cast members on stage. Interaction from Choruses with characters, first situated in-between, reckoned entirely well when to lend climactic stations during narrative in progress good, meaningful emphasis. Lighting (Michael James Clark) through dark chiaroscuro for night scenes, bright sunlight to enhance pastel colors on stage, pastels as well from the orchestra pit, fine half-lit silhouetting of Roman characters anathematizing the Etruscans was of very high quality toward providing both sonic and visual picture fuller body.

Rory McDonald provided fine leadership, making all overlap of contrasting, frequently suggestive sonorities flow well, rhythmic life and emphasis pulsating within. Lightly harp adorned muted strings provided night scenes fine patina thus. Duet of alto flute and clarinet helped provide warm down into which to sink, while making intimate distinction of Crocetto’s poetic lullaby for Lucretia asleep on stage. More stringent accents characterized spiky, steadily ‘Chorus’ led chorale prelude interlude framing traumatic action on stage having just transpired, then firmly held in check, magisterial passacaglia finale to entire work. Bach Passion inspired obbligato by Elisabeth Priestly Knight on English horn to elaborate simply intoned lament between Lucretia and Collatinus was highly expressive.

While evoking fine scale for this work’s elusive proportions, McDonald made enfold contrasting pastels and darker sharp keys – latter especially evoking knowledge Britten likely picked up from Verdi. Flow between contrasting passages - consoling solace for sleeping Lucretia, encroaching, seemingly ubiquitous menace occurred seamlessly, unimpeded – all as though peeling back contrasting, revealing layers of consciousness. McDonald only trusted slightly too much stewardship provided percussion - some tendency toward over-emphasis, helping clot several nodal points - lines to tightly rein all in becoming cramped instead. Insightful though, McDonald’s attitude well manifest toward modernism here was unflinching. McDonald should return here soon - eventually for well-varied repertoire.

Sadly then and quite elusively, HGO’s Britten cycle has drawn slightly early to a close. It opened with Billy Budd in 2008, providing single installment all four seasons since. Gloriana was next season to provide grandiose finale to this always superbly probing illuminating series. Audience response to this shorter piece – arguably most elusive and difficult thus far - was highly favorable, suggesting perhaps that HGO soon take on still more challenging progressive repertoire from this past century – with hope for improvement to orchestral forces toward achieving worthiness for such assignment.

BBC: BBC SO, Ilan Volkov. Nicolas Hodges. Exposition balancing heroic and abstract ideals. Clarke Untitled 2. Beethoven Third. 29.04.11

Balance between attaining heroism with abstraction eloquently informed thirty-four year old conductor Ilan Volkov – recently music director of the BBC Scottish SO – making guest appearance with the more prestigious BBC Symphony Orchestra of London. He scored a triumph, doing so. Both ideals explored found blithe consummation in a deceptively light, but fully absorbing, vigorous rendition of Beethoven’s Third Symphony.

Near same time as his only piano and violin concerti got written arrived Benjamin Britten’s tribute - 'Ballad of Heroes' set to W.H. Auden text - to the anti-fascist heroes of the Spanish Civil War. Auden ventured to Spain himself to offer his help, eventually helping inspire Britten to write this piece. Layout is similar to the maturely realized Sinfonia da Requiem, both opening with a dirge, continuing with danse macabre, and closing with chorale of sorts – finale to ‘Ballad of Heroes’ limned by lengthy melisma enhanced tenor solo looking ahead over two decades to his ‘War Requiem.’

Volkov found more interesting to bring to the forefront than how Britten’s scoring accommodates British choral tradition. Beat seemed slightly unclear for trumpet fanfares emerging - as though from the mist - starting this - more wonky had they played at a well demarcated mezzo-forte. Volkov had line fill out gradually, in place of broadly stating what was facing him instead. Approach of establishing choral parts obbligato to the orchestral line was such, as from which the sung text emerged refined with fully achieved profile – better than the expected norm. Volkov brought out harp gilding of still full sonorities achieved here to just partially relieve the austerity of opening dirge.

Rhythm for Scherzo was bracing, calibrated through Shostakovich like cascade of chromatically descending flute trio, rustle in bassoons – then arch to choral writing fully anticipating ‘Look, the storm come – Now the floodtide and seahorses’ Balstrode starts during Act One of Peter Grimes. Volkov’s excellent proportioning guaranteed throbbing middle section, with violins’ fully anguished descant, its fine profile intact. Tenor Toby Spence eschewed gilding his lines during the finale, eloquently appreciating with firm line the simplicity of how text and music merge, making any belabored affectation obtrusive by comparison. Choral work was very fine.

James Clarke’s Untitled No. 2 formed dark oasis between comparatively simplistic Britten and the ‘Eroica.’ It seemed to ask most of all what defines music. Inspiration derives from equally non-specific titled abstract expressionist works by Clifford Still - museum dedicated to his memory having recently opened in Denver, Colorado. Comparable to Still’s intent is that this music not be illustrative, pictorial, representational in any way – also forfeiting suggestion this could be a concerto.

In terms of exploring resonances, overtones as sustained, manipulated, extended out thereof Wolfgang Rihm’s music also comes to mind toward redefining tonality or tonal specificity as devoid of traditional meaning – all as reckoned for how sonorities, including how those of single pitches will get articulated. Feldman, in opus like Music for Violin and Orchestra, makes his bias just a manipulation of sound, as perhaps just evoking Nature completely abstractly, putting aside all suggestion of tonality, but free too from the strict ordering of Schoenberg and Webern.

Untitled #2 implies some ensuing agon, but avoids it occurring between soloist and orchestra – having it between chords, contrasting aggregates instead. Influence of Morton Feldman on this enterprise is certainly plausible. Clarke, interviewed, suggested thinking about this music as one might rock strata. Episodes during which most all motion, sense of where things may go becomes very static – opportunity for chords, resonances to grind against each other - at layer seemingly beneath this music’s surface – to suggest much depth. Brass slowly shifting between highly attenuated eleventh chords - decorated by quasi-(igneous) percolation of single pitches widely distributed about – grandiosely displayed how static this music can become.

Development, illusion thereof of coalescing buildup of sonorities may loan out hunch that relative stasis to ensue for a good six minutes ending soon before halfway through this 25 minute work might also be illusory. Given how elusive this music seems, certainly also hope for anything representational to emerge, one must choose one’s words carefully toward describing this. Ability to carry on logically though is good, not to make circular logic out of all this - as might the neurotic captain from Buchner’s Woyzeck.

Placement of major seventh chords perfect intervals and semitones apart - how much of Untitled #2 is mapped out - clearly reveals that by no means has order, regarding compositional processes got abandoned here. Likewise this music, as frequently focused, transfixed at times on resonances - reflection and refraction alternating between them - contains some linear aspects, even suggested lyricism by such means. A most elaborate moment or event occurs during introduction to the soloist’s centrally located accompanied cadenza, with brass having set up decent minor ninth pedal point on E and F natural out of which is built tonal environment suggesting E Minor (with major seventh of G-F# layered above). Steeply arched upward leaps from soloist’s right hand then emerge – perhaps with nothing moving in any specific direction, but all suggestive of linear activity possibly internally being integral to all at stake.

Soloist Nicolas Hodges – heard for Elliott Carter together with Volkov at the 2008 Proms - commented that there exist virtuoso things that occur in this piece; his mastery of such was imaginatively complete. Compelling here was mention of passages in which the orchestra can be fearsomely loud to cover up the soloist, value predominantly being what resonance might linger on, once the orchestra has cut off, more than anything (overtly) powerful or virtuosic. The very opening of this work immediately provided deep sense of how ingrained together the orchestral and soloist parts in this piece should be; initial orchestral sonorities organically form out of soloist arpeggios, intentionally so.

Intermittently developing moments of relaxation from predominant oppressive air provided welcome relief, such as right before midway through, a freely moving exchange of sonorities between soloist and strings, brass both anchoring and continuing motion through elaborate disjunctive lines, to comment perhaps on tension or stress still dissembling. Arabesque, as intimated by opening soloist arpeggios also provided fine elaboration on sonorities, wide range thereof and overtones to fully register or suggest.

Impetus Ilan Volkov supplied – going so far as to voice out numerous resonances toward elaborately revealing developed overtones - seemed mostly lyrical, understating orchestra going full out – for instance right up to cut offs from which lingering keyboard resonances distinctively emerge. Within deeper overlapping of hinted, developing motif through stream of harmonic dissonance infusing coda to this piece, light perhaps appeared to issue forth. Much psychologically engrossed density could then more convincingly, freely dissemble. Dedication, focus, invested therein from soloist and orchestral forces alike helped poetically, comprehensively lay out picture in abstract lines and sonorities. All sounded complete, yet supple, plastic. Dip(s) into tonal recesses deep below constant at almost all times, mercurial space above unfurled effortlessly before all.

Out of elaborate runs and figuration emerged good stretto between upper, lower brass and piano aggregating into well sustained pedal in the strings. Pulsation extending out of ringing dissonant chord to follow extended into sustaining stream of dissonance in the strings, portion thereof playing in harmonics. Illusion that some of the writing toward the end could be vocalized became enhanced by interjected recitative for piano, framing thoroughly pervasive shimmer to carry all beyond minimally perceptible horizons.

Human dimensions invoked by quasi-vocalized qualities to finish the Clarke Volkov dragged kicking and screaming back in to render very satisfactorily the Beethoven Third Symphony – more tentatively encountered on one outing by the BBC Scottish before. Spring to opening chords, bracing pace to follow, on merits of Beethoven’s music alone, putting aside excessive ‘period’ tendencies or ‘period chic’ with which to clutter things up, sounded immediately ready to challenge anything obstructing their way, wrest all free from court (and modern) conventionalities. Lean textures generally prevailed, but integrated with full sense of voice-leading, presence of overtones from the big bad Romantic past. Purpose in how Volkov elucidated form and expression, in place of acting beholden to anything else, was abundantly clear throughout.

Sinuous, flowing line coursed unimpeded through opening tutti of the first movement, space supplied to gently mark laendler accenting during second theme, elsewhere and also to designate wistful, momentary rumination upon where the argument has taken us thus far. Such fully prepared terracing, grand scaling thereof into closing section of alternatively cleanly robust and supple shaping of all its lines.

Good sonorous bedrock underpinned start to the Development, saving cellos on forebodingly restated first theme from coming across too lean. Internal complexity through cross motion between first theme in lower strings and downward figuration above got reckoned with full ear for harmonic change through fully, but lightly engaged sturm und drang. Bucolic accenting thus became available in full, especially through insistently interjecting violas – without loss of perspective. Keeping all breathing flexibly in interest of sustaining line optimally well, a little flaccidity threatened to creep in at outset of dissonant stretto to prepare, contrast with more feminine accented re-transition to follow. Volkov however tightened his grip on proceedings through the stretto before too late – notion being to keep things again within human dimensions as opposed to attempting blowing things up to metaphysical proportions.

Sturm und drang continued to course through first theme re-transition, all tensions remaining febrile, rife through all contrasts, buildup, plus regretful tone from retreating woodwinds to prepare flexibly molded recapitulatory statement. Through harmonic transitions, quality of the music-making turned intermittently weightless, but with deeply infused lyricism making all still more specifically profiled, felt than during the Exposition. BBC principal trumpet very briefly broke the spell by overplaying right before the coda, subtonic (D-Flat Major) opening of which Volkov made emerge very rich, as opposed to conventionally docking it. All emerged vernal and fresh through final sublime reprise of ‘inversion theme’ toward lovely legato French horns’ buildup to a very fulfilling close.

Taken at very moderate pace, highly attentive proportioning maintained solemnity of the Marcia funebre – all just slightly comparable to how one often finds Allegretto of the Seventh interpreted. Winds infused restated first theme, following lean stoically profiled strings for the latter, with optimum cantabile. Unison lines in cellos preparing first theme subdominant restatement sounded at once lean and darkly expressive. Stark profile well maintained throughout, a little incipient weeping crept into oboe restating the same – most sublime. Maggiore interlude opened lean, rugged - for contrast very supple open-air infusion of what develops therein, principal trumpet this time spot-on in preparing last rolling cadence to wrap it up. Fugue emerged lean on surface, fully weighted beneath.

Fully Italianate cantabile descant from BBC violins - all rock-solid beneath – alone completely filled out dimensions of approaching crest to the fugue. Simplicity reigned unimpeded into the recapitulation, all then fully sung, starkly proportioned. Volkov filled out trailing off lines, harmonization through the coda very expressively – one slightly imprecise cut-off tiny price to pay for fully vocalized appoggiatura from the winds. Closing lingering off cadence in winds off distraught, fading away strings, without conventional Romantic docking, was sublime, even recalling example of Karel Ancerl.

Headlong rustle with subtly worked therein lightly pointed harmonic shifts strongly characterized an uninhibitedly joyous romp through the scherzo. Tutti immediately upon arrival gave off full rustic frolic. Trio, started by French horns, got off to a hearty start, with fine yielding on lingering phrases extending out.

Finale, strings racing down, began dangerously fast, but clean, infused with the simple joy of taking it on, in place of grand-standing. Variations spinning out from skeleton of a theme got breezily paced, achieving cumulation through opening out of the ‘Prometheus’ theme lithe as is its wont. At continuing bracing pace, fugato to follow maintained internal terraced voicing with excellent finesse; cadenza-like principal flute solo spoke lightly, rapidly - fine space provided him. ‘Country dance’ very joyously to follow hardly could have been better, more freely accented. After sobering ‘Prometheus’ reprise, second fugato emerged supple, precisely calibrated its voicing, through unusually pointed out intro theme descant in violins to fully prepare the brass getting the same – incredible to behold. Lacking such preparation, this passage often comes across detached.

The Andante epitomized nobility sublime, forefront clarinet accompanying concertato in the winds fully enhancing its rusticity followed by strings eschewing common working of violins descending into brass ‘Prometheus’ theme. Segue into anguished violins’ crest to line was followed by antiphonal muttering in strings and winds suffused, distraught, but light. Brass, while restating central ‘Prometheus’ idea here achieved doing so completely, stopping far short of portentousness. It was, as prefaced by simply forward thrust on the symphony’s opening two chords, to singularly depict the heroism of the common man. Open swagger through presto coda, full of life as was the rest of the finale to risk Volkov being again mistaken for Ancerl, simply expressed the joy of being alive.

For ‘Eroica’, without first-movement repeat, lasting forty-four minutes, profundity, proper weight to formally, aesthetically articulate such hardly ever got missed. No other name comes to mind, among thirty-something’s or younger for what could as clearly promise to be a great interpretation of this work.

HGO Peter Grimes - starkly retold tale of mad fisherman, starring Anthony D. Griffey 31.10.10

Fourth in a series of the operas of Benjamin Britten, conducted by Patrick Summers and produced thus far by Neil Armfield, this is also the first chance to have seen Peter Grimes at the Wortham Center - Grimes, Britten's second opera, first success at writing one - the earliest composed of collection presented here thus far. Armfield has enjoyed practically unqualified success with both Midsummer Night's Dream and Turn of the Screw and close to as much with Billy Budd, that opened the series in April of 2008.

Peter Grimes however posed a few problems, given concept with which Armfield and designer Ralph Myers commenced. Costuming and acting, updated to time of the work's composition, near end of World War Two, were as realistic and nearly fully believable as before in his work here. Acoustically, this production worked better than recent Grimes from the Met in which Anthony Dean Griffey also played the lead - for not going with wall to place all the way across, near very front of the stage, against which for orchestra and voices to project and ping too much. Where Armfield fell slightly short of the mark here was in treating Peter Grimes as near as much of an abstraction as characterizes Britten’s mid-to-late 1950's Turn of the Screw and Midsummer Night's Dream.

The idea here, though communicated vaguely, of playing Peter Grimes as play within a play - or of approximating such a concept - was not bad – but still one that has been tried before - to varying degrees of success and failure. One had subconsciously to react i to how the people appearing to be playing the real characters on stage were perhaps instead to an extent reacting to doing so as just real people. According to what Everett Evans cited from program notes, there was perhaps a little firsson in catching a group of such players assessing for 'final run-through' of sorts what is each of their best feet forward in getting the audience to react to story being presented as well as possible.

One spent the opening courtroom scene, trying to assess as best as possible, with most of the cast, including Grimes in the front row all arranged in straight rows for seating area, with nobody else so prominently seated as that. Hobson and Swallow, conducting proceedings, got stationed right at front, apart from the seating area. Most chairs during the first interlude were then moved off to have just a few positioned on bare wooden floor of town hall auditorium as one might position them out on a deck.

The set design only became oppressively monotonous for Act Two, Scene One, where perhaps at an angle, some perspective could be allowed to inculcate church facade - perhaps diagonally across one corner extra prop or two to indicate (plan for) town square. Conventionally set, the church facade, combined with voices emerging from behind it create a complete frisson between what is going on inside and then privately roadside. Once set design for the second scene of Act Two, with profile for Peter Grimes's drab hut pulled forward, Armfield's intent then became clear in remaining so abstract for scene previous; the idea still wearied the eye.

Together with Summers more concise and relaxed with this score's often elaborate demands, the opera’s last three scenes worked consistently better than, as all taken together the first four. Just one further allowance that could have been made was to open things up - toward sense of wider space to better indicate some sense of outdoors into which for boy to make his tragic exit - and through which for Grimes to make his final exit too. Long tables brought on and offstage, arranged in various ways, over which got laid out fishing gear, served as metaphorically abstract construct of sorts. Talk, as led by Anthony Freud and Patrick Summers after the show, discussed 'a breaking down of the fourth wall' a la Brecht, yet Armfield’s engagement with the audience seemed timid. Having mysterious silent figure, to represent the original author George Crabbe, eventually making it seem he was directing some of the action onstage, still left whatever concept being played out slightly vague. Not successful was having group of children run pell-mell back and forth across the stage for 'Sunday Morning' - evocative interlude starting Act Two and also to contrast with both the darkness of both preceding storm and dramatic situation to follow. Such gesture only communicated expectation that the audience will be bored, without something to constantly engage the eye.

Even with various problems pointed out here, the acting of both principals and supporting cast on stage, seldom held back, was both realistic and often lively - with costuming (Tess Schofield) very capably complementing expected action on stage. Lighting (Damien Cooper), if conventional, slightly gimmick laced, worked, except for having to cover excessive empty space for first scene of Act Two.

That this was Patrick Summers's first attempt at conducting Peter Grimes was certainly remarkable. And yet revealed again was his way of relying upon as a crutch certain affectation toward especially drumming up what will feed back contrived excitement instead of real. Good color from the brass enhanced atmosphere for 'Dawn.’

What might have made one’ look askance toward orchestra pit was mishandled rhythm at quartet started by Balstrode ('I'll give a hand’ - Act One, Scene One); Summers started clipping it. The lean quality of orchestral forces for this downtown is likely influence toward such perception here. Indication is here - fine here that rope merely got pulled manually across stage – of winding out of rope meeting resistance against a rotating capstan - with Britten marking strings and lower winds with slightly awkward accenting to depict the mechanical resistance.

What could have led Summers slightly astray here was Peter’s light calling out for helping hand right before. I sought out – suggesting Glyndebourne, thus perhaps idea close to mindset of Summers - the EMI Haitink recording. There is a subtle push forward toward end of this passage,, but Haitink slightly more gets marked indication there exactly right. Poise reinstated itself here well before Ellen's 'Let her among you without fault;’ - of which Katie van Kooten made firm entreaty; there are many others with similar bad habits on many prominent podiums today.

Jagged writing for’Storm’ i took on two-dimensional perspective – after exaggeratedly hectic ‘Look! The storm cone’ ensemble, with internal proportions to both passages tentatively profiled. ‘Old Joe has gone fishing’ got pushed excessively - as to apologize for its unbuttoned jauntiness. Most glaring however was hurried coasting through climactic moment right before Grimes enters Auntie’s pub from storm outside – that all got deflated here. Sustaining some integrity through everything was still some grasp of atmosphere and of dramatic situation at hand. All then comfortably fell into place for Summers for the final two acts of Peter Grimes; such issues almost never arose again.

The Passacaglia - opened nobly by viola solo (Eliseo Salazar) - had fine shape. Mystery, solemnity, of ‘Midnight’ to open Act Three was complete, as was the weirdness of the sixth interlude – excusing questionable intonation from violin first stands – and distraught, measured feeling for choral postlude for return to work immediately following the tragedy that has just transpired. Chorus, as prepared by Richard Bado, was consistently excellent, as was also the decision to place the pub band music in first scene of Act Three backstage. Movement about by the chorus for especially the gathering about for confrontations in Acts Two and Three proved the professionalism of also their stage direction evening long.

Anthony Dean Griffey began the role of Peter Grimes as practically just face from among the crowd, betraying on purpose slight nervous unease and struggle to maintain poise on the stand. His early unaccompanied duet with Ellen Orford had the requisite long-breathed legato - making fine shape of this haunting passage. There was here poignantly desire felt to retain some civility in interaction with community at large and good anxiety expressed with recall to Balstrode of the day one earlier tragedy struck.

The only thing that really misfired for Griffey here – moment as cited above prepared weakly by Summers – was ‘Now the Great Bear and the Pleiades’ (monologue), that for dressing it up a bit much with nuance, it then missed the focus, moreover eerie calm it must convey to make its impact. Exits off-stage with the boy - boy running off behind Grimes both into the storm and halfway through Act Two, rang somewhat false. Vocally most of all, the welling up of anger in this Grimes Griffey made something with which to contend during tense scene with Ellen in Act Two. Griffey was conscientious about humanizing Grimes, even while scolding, blaming the apprentice for his own woes; he then found his métier in freely expanding out vocally for berceuse to follow – intimate picture of Grimes from dreams he softly recalls, assessing what should lie ahead.

Groffey’s technique is quite individual –in his broad formation of vowels to help expand out sound below the break – a mild telltale hint of juddery vibrato only slightly intrusive thus far. Above the break, he lightens things just right, even often incisively, as proved very effectively, flexibly true for interpretively triumphant mad scene near the end. His long-breathed legato for both long melisma toward end and reprise of ‘What harbor shelters peace’ during moments of relative lucidity contrasted strongly with intimately detailed picture Griffey painted of imbalance and hysteria - the derangement that has usurped the mind of the lone and troubled fisherman by this point. Sense of helplessness was complete with Griffey’s dazed appearing, almost robotic final exit to sink his boat as ordered by Balstrode. Memories of seeing Jon Vickers in the part thirty-three years ago are not effaced or erased. Griffey however has nobly and very effectively found his own way for both acting and singing this most taxing part.

Katie Van Kooten, Hermia (Midsummer Night’s Dream) here before, portrayed a most sympathetic Ellen, making one feel this near as much Ellen’s tragedy as it is for Peter. She always made a beneficially striking lyrical vocal and stage presence. A little shrillness on top distracted only slightly from nuanced molding of the legato line – including for the ‘Embroidery’ aria. Her acting was most believable – attempt at firm resolve for Ellen to hold her ground mixed with vulnerability in Ellen’s inability to really comprehend what both Peter and she are up against, Among female leads, Meredith Arwady stood out as a blowsy, chesty toned Auntie, with direct, dour, all-knowing humor - at for instance ‘A joke’s a joke’, etc. Catherine Wyn-Rogers, good casting too, had the right look and menace as Mrs. Sedley, but while avoiding going over the top, vocally sounded reticent, held back, perhaps one cut too light for the part. The nieces, Kiri Deomarine, Brittany Wheeler (Houston Opera Studio artists) sang in tune with Ellen and Auntie for their very tricky quartet in Act Two, and made cheeky wit out of all the rest.

Christopher Purves, in his HGO debut, led supporting cast of men with a conventional Balstrode, with keenly observed sense of having been around – sufficient for ability to come up with clearly felt sympathy for Grimes and his plight – and with firm tone seasoned well with bluster or gruffness to entirely fill out the part. Liam Bonner looked dapper as Ned Keene, sang reasonably, physically acted the part well, without giving the apothecary as distinctive a vocal profile as have others. His droll alternating of interaction with Mrs. Sedley and scorn behind her back was spot-on.

Joseph Evans capably served as reticent and polite Rector. Beau Gibson refreshingly sang Bob Boles straight, giving the mugging and blithering that tends to follow Boles around the sick leave it deserves. Armfield and Gibson both found solutions as to how to depict the ridiculous hypocrisy of Boles without making it camp. Camp was a little unavoidable by halfway through Act Three for lawyer Swallow (Patrick Carfizzi), but with plummy tone and right lilt for dance step accompanying him, he effectively pulled off avoiding taking caricature to excess. He sounded stern, firm in interaction with Grimes, right past time the curtain opens. With sonorous tone laced with irony – alongside dependable Hobson (Robert Pomakov) – Carfizzi authoritatively pulled this off.

All in all, even if this drama having been prepared to surreptitiously creep up on one, then later to overwhelm us, this was an honest, forthright interpretation of Britten’s Peter Grimes from just abut all involved – several cut corners aside. Minor carping, criticism aside, Houston Grand Opera proved still quite worthy here of the challenge of having before hosted Jon Vickers, gracing the stage of neighboring Jones Hall for two runs both approximately thirty years ago.

HGO: Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream. A restoration of all innocence and mirth. 23.1.2009 (repost from listserv)

This was Houston Grand Opera's second go at Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream, one of only three full length Britten operas that I know the company to have produced thus far. It was last seen here sixteen years ago. A gently aqua tinted green color pervaded the entire set for very much of the entire evening. Rear and side drops with drawings in black etched on them gave the set design somewhat of a Japanese feel, as did also perhaps a wide swath of green vellum, crossing stage from left to right. Quite brilliant touch, just somewhat opaque trapping as this was, it got physically dragged down to cover Tytania and Bottom-as-ass in their slumber together in Act Two.

The first several characters to enter the stage were Puck (Jon M. Hill in an only speaking part), Oberon, king of the fairies and Tytania, his somewhat sparring wife. Houston favorite Laura Claycomb played Tytania, with close to ideally clear, agile line and vocalism, excusing just a little uncertainty around the break and several not quite fully supported high notes. The only thing that may have held up Claycomb from having more than mildly qualified success with Tytania was perhaps a mild or perceived lack of warmth. As more relevant further down, she was also working in atmosphere more cerebrally achieved than not or otherwise. She was costumed very attractively in luminous blue and white, embellished with much fluff and frills, with locks of her naturally red curly hair flowing down her back. Claycomb was ideally witty with again Bottom as ass, in their central absurd love scene together.

Welsh countertenor Iestyn Davies (HGO debut) vocally enjoyed one of just a short string of unqualified successes with casting here. Less ostentatiously costumed than is James Bowman on dvd of the Peter Hall production, he gave his part the air of mystery, contemplation, and aloofness in a way much of his part calls for. His vocal production was about the entirely most even of the entire cast and could have been identified by a few of us with that of Alfred Deller. I hope it not heresy to say either that I found his more subdued, thus more introspective, mysterious interpretation of Oberon, in acting also, to be mildly preferable to the blowsier James Bowman on the wonderful Haitink/Peter Hall dvd.. This was altogether a very fine piece of work from Davies.

The quartet then later sextet of lovers or couples was half successful. Best of all was the lyrical and ardent, always musical and most often in tune Lysander of Norman Reinhardt, heard earlier this season as Benedict in Berlioz. He also looked and sounded the most convincingly animated during the difficult quarrel scene of Act Two. This was overall a part that suited him a little better than did Benedict.

Least satisfactory was the blustery and pitch-insecure Demetrius of Liam Bonner, who sounded attractive enough when singing lyrically, but otherwise was really pushing it and for too much of his part. Ryan McKinny as the Duke of Athens Theseus, almost noble enough in appearance, was lacking in enough authority for the part, with insubstantial legato and weak low notes.

Among the women, I was probably happiest with the Hermia of Kate Van Kooten (HGO debut). Very charming in appearance and most convincingly in love of the two women among the first two couples, her voice and singing, perhaps just slightly rich for what expectations are for the part, had lovely color to it, with especially rich low notes and supple phrasing of her music. I just detected just a few pitch problems toward the end of her performance here last night. Marie Lenormand started off as Helena with less control of pitch, often below it somewhat more than fortunately how she ended; she was (in addition to Puck) also the least attractively costumed of everybody on stage. The two women looked indistinguishable in class from the rustics on stage, Bottom, Quince, Flute, etc. One easily gets the point. However, without further insight, contrast between the two classes of people falls almost immediately a little flat.

Leann Sandel-Pantaleo sounded somewhat more authentic contralto as Hippolyta here than for Ursule in the Berlioz last fall. It had me wondering if she might have been feeling indisposed somehow then. Phrasing her music sensitively, she looked and sounded trim, sufficiently aristocratic in this part.

As for the rustics, Matthew Rose (HGO debut), other than a bit uncertain in pitch at first then even later on for a few low notes, was the droll and wonderfully endearing Bottom. He enjoyed shilling to the hilt the death of Pyramus to the great enjoyment of everybody. Otherwise, he bantered about and sang animatedly enough among his team of six rustics without on purpose either in acting or vocally overshadowing anyone else - least of all the very lyrical Flute of veteran tenor Steven Cole, and the hilarious Snout and sprechstimme Wall (in Pyramus and Tisbe) of Jon Kolbet. Though with acting matching well enough with the rest, the practically also pitch-sprechstimme Quince of Robert Pomakov was a washout. There was so much rattle to his pitch that it was seldom easy to discern any.

The act of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act 3, to entertain the aristocrats, was a huge send-up for the entire hall, and for things that work this way downtown, was for the most part very convincingly funny, as opposed to the look-at-us, we're funny brand of humor in two recent runs of Mozart comedies here, Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni - very distracting in both. Since a wonderfully funny Barber of Seville here in 2004, fully appreciated by all, I do not recall an episode of such genuine and good laugh-out-loud humor as I found in Pyramus and Thisbe last night.

The skit animated Patrick Summers as well, though he tended to be quite good for all three scenes for the rustics - only on the dry or academic side for them during Act Two. At the beginning of Act One, the orchestra sounded insufficient in its lower reaches. This robbed the music of a necessary sense of its having overtones that even in notes not more than implied in the harmonic texture must somehow at least seem to land on the ear for Britten's music not to sound dry or academic. How would even orchestral forces as such, augmented a bit, be able to savor the Mahlerian (disclaimer::not led astray here by seeing the Visconti film) reaches of Death in Venice? Britten, by then, the end of his career, had very well cultivated an internationalized style and become the richer for it. Even in its chamber music sonorities, Midsummer Night's Dream helps pave the way to his underrated Owen Wingrave and Death in Venice.

Summers was at his best, accompanying Davies and Claycomb, Oberon’s noble aria in Act One, "I know a bank", after manner of Purcell, included. He gave good ear to the second episode for lovers in Act One (an act that is organized in rondo form), especially with the anxiety Hermia and Lysander express therein. This and episodes of writing for celesta and strings revealed an ear for color, though other passages through the evening sounded both tonally and rhythmically a little flabby. Undifferentiated as to the harmonic changes that occur in it, that is without sufficient nuance, the prelude to Act Three went sour in intonation from the strings of the HGO orchestra. Playing from the brass, which is to be often pungent in color sometimes came across as timid, though otherwise all well played, in terms of accuracy, pitch, etc.

How flat in perspective and lacking a bit in depth was a stiffly conducted final chorus right before the end of the opera, that should instead, marked 'slow and solemn', should be succulent in its tonal richness. Thanks in part to Summers, the best moment for childrens' chorus (otherwise lacking courage with accents) came at the end of Act One with a well animated, practically Stravinskian "You spotted snakes." Overall, I would gauge that Summers got the Britten about seventy percent right, but to avoid the hazard of this music coming across as two-dimensional, some further effort was needed. It was also considerably unwise, not to allow an interval between Acts One and Two. For, in fact, those who do not know the score at all, there was hardly at all any discernible break at all between Acts One and Two - indeed very unwise.

What went the extra step of the way in making Midsummer Night's Dream quite the scuess it was at its opening here was the mostly well gauged production of Nell Armfield. Mentioned already was the faux pas in costuming in particular one or two of the lovers, which for Helena, looked as though it could have come off a rack at Ross or Marshall's. Though including demonic looking Oberon and just a bit over-the-top for Puck that way, stage direction was naturalistically very effective. All moved in as natural and mostly unassuming manner as one would have desired on the minimalist set. Gratuitous underlining of material was gratefully close to nonexistent. Lighting for one scene, incisively conducted by Summers, with infusion of the green on stage by bright white light - the chastisement of Puck by Oberon in Act Two - was very effective. In the context of so much else, the lighting here was even startling as well.

For condition the economy it is in and Britten's writing in this case that shows significant departure from the more populist style of his Peter Grimes and Billy Budd, Midsummer Night's Dream gratefully received a quite full house. After the full shenanigans of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act Three, the audience vociferously showed their appreciation at curtain calls, including for seventh rustic, border collie Buddy, who during Pyramus and Thisbe indulged us with, ad lib, a moment or two of barking. If only singers ….

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.