Britten, Death in Venice: Philip Langridge (tenor), Alan Opie (baritone), William Towers (countertenor), Philharmonia Voices, Aidan Oliver (chorus master), Richard Hickox (conductor) Philharmonia Orchestra, Queen Elizabeth Hall, 23.11.2006 (AO)

 

If ever an opera was made for semi-staging, it’s Death in Venice.  It’s an inner monologue, a psychodrama rather than a narrative.  It is like Venice itself, where land and water merge, and where the horizons between water and sky blend seamlessly.  Indeed, there’s so little to “watch” on stage that a minimalist approach has greater impact.  Just as Aschenbach’s dreams will not become reality, seeing the orchestra on stage reminds us that opera is illusion, a theatre for the imagination.

This realisation was also something special because Langridge, Opie and Hickox recorded the opera together a few years ago, and it was interesting to see what they would bring to a live performance.  The entire opera revolves around Aschenbach, the workaholic writer who has cut himself off from human relationships.  His sudden, out of character escape to Venice is an unarticulated cry for change.  Tadzio is only a symbol to which Aschenbach ties his inexpressible feelings. Langridge doesn’t even bother to hint at erotic frisson : were Tadzio to materialise, he’d be irrelevant.  Aschenbach is a tour de force which challenges the greatest singers, as it involves two hours of intense characterisation.  If Langridge’s voice showed the strain at times, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.  To carry this off as well as he did was quite an achievement.  Indeed, the role benefits from a voice which can express a certain amount of world-weariness.  Aschenbach is a battered soul, ragged at the edges, and, like the strawberries he tastes, musty and no longer fresh.  As Thomas Mann commentators have noted, even his name has connotations of “ashes”.  It would be infinitely more difficult for a younger man to carry the role off convincingly. That Langridge succeeded so well is a tribute to his stamina and technique. 

Getting the characterisation of Aschenbach right is perhaps a bit like method acting, where performance grows from “inhabiting the role”.  In some ways, then, the multiple personalities Opie has to evoke present different challenges, although none individually are as demanding as Aschenbach.  Opie has to be quick in his wits, shift shaping between characters.  Although Opie is too robust to be ambiguous, his part in itself is a metaphor for some of the deeper intellectual undercurrents that flow beneath the surface of this opera.  However, many listeners are actually hostile to penetrating insight, and so much in this opera is already too disturbing to take on board fully. So perhaps it was just as well Opie’s readings were straightforward, functioning as a counterpoint to Aschenbach’s moods, which in this production was quite acceptable.

For me, the real discovery of the evening was William Towers, the Voice of Apollo. Towers may only be in his early thirties but his poise is superlative.  He is one of the more “masculine” countertenors, like Andreas Scholl, who sound divine and human at the same time.  Some countertenors are pitched so high that they can sound strained and falsetto.  Like Scholl, Towers uses the wider range of his lower register to expand its dramatic impact.  There’s no mistaking the hidden strength in this Apollo: Towers brings deeper levels of interpretation to the role, which inspire quite thought provoking ideas. I hope he goes on to make this role his own, in future productions, because the role is more pivotal in the dynamics of the opera’s themes than is often appreciated.  Indeed, he’ll be singing it again, as he’s scheduled for the Frankfurt, Aldeburgh and Bregenz productions of Death in Venice in the next year or so. 

Towers impressed me greatly in the recent ‘Orlando’ with the fledgling Independent Opera, a small new ensemble with innovative, daring ideas, who deserve to be encouraged and nurtured.   He also created a lot of positive interest with his Medoro at the Royal Opera House three years ago, and his Farnace.  The countertenor repertoire is painfully limited, and almost entirely restricted to roles formerly sung by castrati. Yet, in our modern age, with its ambiguities and paradoxes, a voice type like this must present fascinating new opportunities to express new ideas. Let’s hope composers take heed and explore the creative opportunities.

Unlike most opera house orchestras whose main function is to provide a backdrop, the Philharmonia Orchestra are used to being in the forefront. It is such a pleasure to hear opera played by frontline musicians who are among the best in their profession. They gave Hickox a superbly taut reading that brought out the intensity of the atmospheric scoring.  Details like the muffled alarums in the beginning of Act One came into full focus, as did the tensions and dissonances in the eerily claustrophobic second Act.  The Philharmonia Voices were very good, too.  The individuals who came out to sing minor roles, particularly the young hotel clerk, were impressive.  It was interesting how the sounds “Tadzio” and “Adieu” connected, both sung and in the orchestra. 

There’s so much in Death in Venice, the most equivocal and intellectually challenging of Britten’s operas.  In some ways I wonder if we have even begun to appreciate its true profundity, or its implications. Good as this performance was, it felt like a staging post on a long journey towards understanding what Britten, like Aschenbach, might have been searching for.

 

Anne Ozorio