The composer and his music
Widely regarded as
one of the greatest composers of the
twentieth century, Benjamin Britten
holds a place of special significance
in British musical life in that he,
through the success of his 1945 opera
Peter Grimes single-handedly
restored English opera to the world
stage. In his several subsequent works
for the theater, Britten elevated the
art of operatic expression to a level
unseen since Verdi and Puccini and in
so doing proved himself to be the most
able exponent of English vocal music
since Henry Purcell. His motto: "To
be useful and for the present,"
was fulfilled in his dramatic works
by a number of innovations, most appreciably
through his work with The English Opera
Group, founded by himself, Peter Pears,
John and Myfanwy Piper and others, to
resuscitate opera performances in England
after the war years. His experience
working with the Crown Film Unit, for
whom he wrote numerous scores before
the war, was to pay off in spades, as
it provided him with the necessary training
ground to master the use of minimal
orchestral forces to maximum effect.
In The Turn of the Screw he turns
the modest forces of six singers and
fifteen instruments in to high drama
of nearly Wagnerian impact.
The
story
Set in a country manor
house in nineteenth century England,
the Governess, whose name, oddly, we
never know, agrees to take charge of
two children, left in the temporary
care of the housekeeper Mrs. Grose after
the mysterious deaths of Quint, the
butler and Miss Jessel, the former governess.
She is bothered by doubts, and has particular
reservations after accepting the condition
that she is under no circumstances to
contact the children’s guardian for
assistance. Upon her arrival, her warm
reception by the children and Mrs. Grose
allay her fears for the moment. One
night in the garden, she encounters
a strange man on the tower; a man whom
she later learns is the ghost of the
dead Quint. Mrs. Grose is horrified,
wondering if there will be no end to
Quint’s evil meddling.
Later, on a walk by
the lake, Flora, the elder child encounters
the spirit of Miss Jessel. After interrupting
a late night encounter between the children
and the two ghosts, the governess realizes
that the children are being haunted
and vows to leave immediately. Upon
second thought, however, she concludes
that she cannot leave the children alone
and unprotected, and writes a letter
to her employer, begging for help. The
ghost of Quint, however, entices young
Miles to steal the letter. Mrs. Grose
sets off for London with Flora to escape
the influence of the phantom Miss Jessel,
and the governess remains behind to
attempt to gain Miles’ confidence so
that she can rescue him from Quint.
Quint appears again, however, and after
a tremendous struggle of will, Miles
banishes the ghost by speaking his name
aloud, and then collapses in death.
The governess is left to mourn her ultimate
failure.
The
Psychodrama
An overriding theme
in much of Britten’s stage output is
the struggle of the outcast to be accepted
by society. This was an issue near to
his own psyche, as he himself struggled
to overcome the stigma which his open
homosexuality placed upon him in early
twentieth century England. In addition,
at least one prominent biographer has
revealed Britten’s tendency towards
pedophilia (a tendency for which there
is no evidence that he ever acted upon)
is at play in this opera, given the
darker undertones of the type of hold
that the adult Peter Quint has over
the adolescent Miles. Further, Britten’s
characters display the tendencies that
Freud described in his Studies on
Hysteria, by which the fears of
the subconscious mind are brought to
the fore uncontrollably, and therefore
become reality. By the end of the opera,
the zeal with which the governess attempts
to protect the children becomes an obsession,
one that ends in disaster with the girl
child in delirium and the boy child
dead.
The
Production
John Gunter’s stark,
gray set designs go miles to aid Michael
Hampe’s very convincing visual concept
of the opera. Little is done in the
way of special effects and lighting
to make Miss Jessel and Quint appear
ghostlike. Instead, they are often kept
at a distance from the "living"
characters, either by placing them far
upstage or high above the other action.
Lighting effects are minimal, and thus,
when something special does occur, it
is all the more dramatic and attention
grabbing. Costumes are simple and of
the period, and properties are kept
to a minimum so as to allow the observer
to concentrate more on the dialogue
and the facial and physical reactions
of the characters, masterfully choreographed
by Hampe, and splendidly executed by
the cast. If there is a visual distraction
at all in this otherwise exquisite production,
it is the prissy conducting style of
Steuart Bedford, whom we see at every
scene-change variation in the pit. His
pinky-up, overly dainty baton technique
quickly becomes an annoyance, and in
truth is the only flaw in this performance
that otherwise borders perfection.
The
Singing and the Orchestra
With the exception
of the aforementioned affected stick
technique of the conductor, this is
an assembly of musicians, vocal and
otherwise, that is without peer. Helen
Field is magnificent in her lyric, effortless
singing, and she excels as an actress.
Her performance is consistently emotional
and dramatic without ever lapsing into
sloppy mugging or melodrama. Menai Davies
is a perfect foil for Field as Mrs.
Grose. She plays the character exactly
as she should be: somewhat provincial
in her outlook, yet deeply compassionate
and concerned for the welfare of all
in her charge. Richard Greager, as the
Prologue and Quint is menacing as the
spectral predator. His singing has the
dramatic depth of the late Peter Pears
without the elder’s quirky timbre. He
is perfectly partnered by Phyllis Cannan,
whose rich dramatic mezzo, a saber wrapped
in velvet, is terrifying with her Vampira-esque
mane of hair and funereal black dress.
The children (although Flora is played
by an adult soprano) are equally impressive.
Machiko Obata, who was born and first
studied in Japan has a clear light voice
and is adept at shifting from playful
child to terrified victim. Most impressive
is her flawless, impeccable English
diction. Samuel Linay proves himself
to be quite the actor and musician in
this very taxing role. He is thoroughly
convincing as the innocent, who at times
is victim, at times collaborator and
ultimately, hero.
To
summarize:
This is a striking
production, with magnificent performances
by all concerned. Despite my one complaint
about Maestro Bedford, he is thoroughly
familiar with this score and is in lockstep
with Britten’s creative imagination.
His orchestra plays without flaw. The
production values are of the first order.
Although subtitles are available, English-speaking
audiences will have no need for them,
as everyone in the cast is possessed
of the very clearest enunciation and
diction. Every single word is understandable
upon first hearing, making this a performance
that ranks miles above many of its kind.
No lover of opera will want to be without
this, an utterly winsome rendition of
the work of a master composer at the
top of his game.
Kevin Sutton