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: Previn world premiere - Brief Encounter

With the even somewhat commercial success of Andre Previn's first opera, Streetcar Named Desire that had its world premiere in S.F., his second opera met with considerable anticipation here. Previn wisely chose a story, a subject less portentous, weighty, with Noel Coward this time instead of Tennessee Williams.

One saw Streetcar, in the likelihood of already having seen the Leigh/Brando classic, to be still haunted by the poetry of the film that overshadowed the Previn - yet still the story had enough popular appeal. For many who embrace Americana of just about any stripe or flavor, for the always elusive hope of classical music cultivating populist appeal - especially for those who accept any apologia or excuse this way - one could not go wrong at all with Streetcar. The good news here is that Brief Encounter is a better work than Streetcar for reasons mentioned already. It makes a better chick (as in chick flick) or 'date opera’ too than does Streetcar.

However, the neurotic edge of both movie and the acting of Vivien Leigh was softened, marginalized and sanitized by the generic scoring of Andre Previn and the heavy back phrasing of Renee Fleming - with music written for her to cater exactly to that aspect of her vocalism. Elisabeth Futral, Stella Dubois in Streetcar, had perhaps the best solo of the first act in it and created Laura Jesson in the world premiere of the new opera.

For about thirty minutes of Brief Encounter – ultimately at 135 minutes none too brief - I began to think that Previn may have come up with a real winner too (with words by John Caird). He seemed to follow the design of the screenplay of the David Lean movie quite faithfully, if unimaginatively. Previn slipped too in having failed a bit to get Caird to scale things back on how far the part of Laura extends itself.

Previn, with extensive years of commercial background he has had, could not help, following how he wrote Streetcar, but fortunately less tendentiously here, making the opera considerably a star vehicle now for Futral as somewhat guilt-ridden heroine as is Laura Jesson by opera’s end. Same as happened with Blanche in Streetcar, passages of Brief Encounter, even with break-ins on banter going on at bar counter in the train stop, form especially in Act One into a stream of seemingly almost endless monologue for Futral - mixed in too with snatches and extended passages both of dialogue mostly with the doctor Alec.. Except in perhaps a self-regarding way, they ultimately fails to say or communicate much, especially when one considers the length of such passages

The story deals with a series of increasingly contrived unplanned mostly Thursday meetings (to eventually being planned entirely) between a married woman and doctor who is not her husband at the same train depot. The husband does not appear at all in the original one-act by Noel Coward, Still Life - neither is there in that play any flashback or, at least to significant degree as structural device, narration.

Previn's strengths include here having a pretty good ear for comic relief and the characters on stage that provide it and also capturing, momentarily numerous times the atmosphere overall of the place in which his action takes place. Emotions of regret and foreboding were clearly felt right at the very end of Act One and a good several times quite effectively during Act Two. His feel for writing diegetic music (music on stage) lacked sufficient humor to match what was happening on stage. The impatience of passengers with their continuing to play for well beyond the desire to hear them anymore certainly then became noteworthy.

As far as what humor he did adequately write in, the writing for Laura's friend, Dolly (Rebekah Camm), verbose in her gossip for the two extended scenes she is in, is smart.. It was certainly enough so, that the second time that Dolly comes on during Act Two same way, one felt like bending one's ear a little extra to eavesdrop on what she might have to say; Laura, by comparison, did not seem to have ever said much at all.

More than in Streetcar and in there being too more of an element of autobiography to Brief Encounter for Previn, I detected a little strain in attempting to apply a personal stamp to especially how well he (and Caird) had developed his main characters in this opera. How much that is due too to the influence of David Lean would require my watching the film. The character who is more reserved and less frivolous of the two protagonists in Still Life is Laura.

Previn infuses Alec (Nathan Gunn) with what he wants us to hear from near the start as more credible passion and conviction about his goals in life, whereas Coward's lines to do with the latter clearly read as though they are to just come off as flighty. Is it that with opera, here being in the realm of high art, that Previn does not want to be caught to have missed a beat this way? However, does Previn really have it syntactically in his attempt to present a personal operatic language to really convincingly pull it off? It just seems to be with considerable strain that he does so.

And then there is Laura's crossword puzzle obsessed husband Fred. At least, George, during 'Hump the Hostess' late in Act Two of 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf,' so bemusedly puts on that he is not even mildly irritated that his wife is (acting at) making out with the handsome young (and also married) new biology assistant professor (who and his mousey wife are still her invited over guests at four a.m.). Martha even more uselessly tries to get George openly upset over this and George gives Martha a little more of her fill of 'that's nice'. Cut Fred down to a torso and we’d certainly still have him.

The low point of Act One was Alec down to his skivvies on houseboat with Laura. The low but a somewhat intended high point of Act Two was a trio where all three (?) of them, including Fred, moon and swoon over the desire to be remembered for a long time to come. What could have been memorable might have been Alec with his hand on Laura's ass (while Laura is tormented inside whether she should be enjoying this or feeling guilty about it) while Fred hardly looks up at all. That we knew that Fred was probably never going to quite 'get it' (could he be autistic?) anyway, Previn could have ended Brief Encounter with the simplicity of letting us guess a bit more (except that he expects that we have probably seen the David Lean film by now) about Laura and Alec by ending the opera with a good scene that is there of ongoing witticism between Mr. Godby and Myrtle over at the counter, plus Dolly with her gossip of the day - and then a mere shrug of the shoulders or two by Laura - my idea - over whatever. Gosh. A 'kingdom for a horse' one of Fred's crossword puzzle clues ends up? How about 'a kingdom (or his castle) for the next train' instead?

Had Previn not cut Alec or himself as the complex heroic figure he does, he could have effectively had Laura do a Monica Vitti on us, as at the end of Antonioni's The Eclipse and speak of meeting again tomorrow, the next day after that, and so on and so on as though she could not possibly anymore give a damn or shred thereof one way or another ever again. Pipe dreams, you should say indeed. Brief Encounter would then make a lousy instead of the pretty good 'date' opera that in fact it really does - barring anyone upset over current or past infidelities.

Muiscally alone, a clever enough audience colleague of mine, possibly said it best that the whole thing felt like a play (with music in the background - implied). There is indeed a 'reinvent the wheel' tendency Previn shows in quickly becoming so gratuitous with seventh and ninth chords, plus for melodic line (somewhat as developed out of a good love theme first introduced by the orchestra) a constant arch over a minor seventh above perfect fifth to which Previn, I am only mildly led to believe, thinks he may have the same relationship as Al Gore once famously claimed to have with the internet.

Briefly before a little good music depicting a stormy breeze blowing the door to the station open or something like that, Previn at the start of Act Two does a sequence of a dozen plus harmonically distantly related triads and chords which made me immediately think of very similar passage in Britten's Billy Budd (right around point where Billy is to be read his death sentence, I think) that we did last year. I had to turn back and whisper to a older lady opera patron from Seattle to ask whether or not we should start counting to thirty-four when Previn repeated it halfway through Act Two for great moment of epiphany in its story line handed down to him and as intended to us here. Or perhaps one could have looked up 34 across or down on puzzle in the Friday New York Times.

Before I am seen to be picking on Andre Previn too much here, let it be said even from me that for Futral and the rest of his cast he has composed music that fits, suits voices, personalities and temperaments very well. Futral's singing, and as so complemented by Previn's music for Laura, has taken on more fully lyric qualities since her Manon (Massenet) for us six years ago; she has found a fine benefactor in Previn. She cut a very sympathetic figure on stage. One had to wait until a good aria for Alec alone to open Act Two as to quite know what to entirely make of his character either dramatically or musically. That was certainly no fault of Nathan Gunn, still very handsome and in fine, supple voice, acting and singing the part with the romantic ardor Previn requests. .

Rebekah Camm led the supporting cast with a cleanly sung, pert, sassy enough Dolly without turning any of it for a moment arch or cloying in any way. Camm has proven here one of the finest artists to have emerged from Houston Opera Studio, and as a member of the studio of Shirley Verrett - with whom Verrett must certainly be happy as well - after also her fine Pamina in Magic Flute of last season here. Kim Josephson, acting the part of Fred as troubled somehow but clueless nevertheless, sang, created his part well to all specifications.

Not having observed cast list beforehand, I turned to ask who was the fine character tenor as Mr Godby, to find out a little to my embarrassment that it was baritone Robert Orth, who we saw here eighteen years ago as a disappointing Guglilemo in Cosi Fan Tutte (together with Mattila, Van Der Walt, Stella Zambalis and Renato Capecchi). Should he ever follow Fink to be a next Alberich, I fear that for anyone in the future listening to the Ring over the air who does not know it well, one might confuse him for either the Loge or Mime. He proved as Mr Godby, equally ideal casting as such alongside cavernously ample voiced Meredith Arwady (the next Stephanie Blythe?) as incisively acted bossy lady at the counter, Myrtle, their banter accentuated once by playful slap (with good punch line) on where Ms. Arwady proved more than ample enough as well. Alicia Gianni was the cute, quickly alert appearing Beryl.

Patrick Summers led the Houston Grand Opera orchestra with full sympathy for Previn's opulent melodic lines and harmonic language, and very amply gauging its interesting moments here and there of rhythmic trickery with suitable aplomb as well. His pacing, even if Previn's did not always, worked very well for the piece; Previn found a well nigh perfect advocate in Summers of his new opera, and with by now more than ample experience in American opera, not only with Streetcar, to pull it off so well.

John Caird's production was sentimentally atmospheric and true to period in most every gesture, idiom, costuming, fine lighting and what have you. He returns here next season here for a new production of Tosca. Although my sentiments will only be echoed by a few, I had to think as Friday evening ended that this is what so much a standard mid cult audience for opera (such as anything of more sizable mind or intellect the Met and Peter Gelb go out of their way these days to discourage attending there anymore) imagines Puccini to be almost exactly.

The plot of Brief Encounter and more vaguely feeling for atmosphere could possibly strike one as, though at most, mildly allusive to that of La Rondine. And yet it is our loss, such as with the horrible dvd-immortalized Boheme from the Met last season, in our grasp of Puccini - even of La Boheme - that this is so. One of Myrtle's assistants sweeps up the floor of the train stop and there is no visible dust to come up. I am so reminded of the so nonexistent to be out-of-corners mice-eaten grime, dust Il Tabarro from the Met two years ago.

I should close here by referring back momentarily to good anecdote about Previn during his Symphony years here in the late 1960's. He possibly even confided to a friend of mine how speechless, amazed perhaps, he was that the Symphony offices were picking up so many calls (from presumably blue-haired old ladies) upset over his programming of Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms. Never mind that it predated his stint here with the HSO in when it was written by what was already nearly the age of the composer and conductor Previn at the time. There was little or nothing about Brief Encounter to strike anybody even nearly fifty years ago as being the least bit avant-garde. Even Previn, with opportunity to do so for a moment, might be wise to think back, for sake of posterity if nothing else, to all he could have meant then.