One of the highlights of the Britten Centenary
year in 2013 has been Tim Albery’s staging of
Peter Grimes
on the very beach at Aldeburgh where the opera was set. Reviews of that
performance have been adulatory, and those of us who didn’t make
it will soon have a chance to see it for ourselves when the film of
the production arrives in cinemas. Before taking to the beach, however,
the same cast performed the score in concert, and it is that performance,
captured over two nights, that we receive here. Let me say from the
outset that it is superb, able to look in the eye any
Grimes
in the catalogue and not to suffer from the comparison.
The first glory of the set is the quality of the recorded sound, captured
in the incomparable acoustic of the Snape Maltings. Every instrumental
voice comes out brilliantly, from the deep brass in the
Dawn
interlude through to the haunting viola solo in the
Passacaglia.
The score is played brilliantly by the Britten-Pears Orchestra, clearly
rising to the thrill of the occasion, and the whole thing is directed
with security and laser-like vision by Steuart Bedford, that most experienced
of Britten conductors. Listen to them tear through the
Storm
interlude, every section giving it their all from the wailing strings
to the dark winds and a percussion section that never stops, suddenly
pulled up by the shimmering emergence of the
What harbour shelters
peace theme. The
Passacaglia is particularly well controlled
with Bedford generating screw-tightening tension, and the
Moonlight
interlude is full of poignant suggestion.
The singing cast is top notch, too. Grimes is such a fiendish role to
sing because he is so contradictory, and interpretations have ranged
from Pears’ visionary poet through to Vickers’ rough brute.
He’s an outsider; that’s intrinsic to Britten’s understanding
of the character. However, Alan Oke’s achievement is to humanise
Grimes and to bring him closer to the audience’s experience than
perhaps any other singer on record. Gone are the extremes of Pears or
Vickers, but they are replaced with a fully rounded portrayal of the
character that is very refreshing. He is the victim of chance in the
Prologue, which ends with a searingly honest duet with Ellen, and we
already see him as the victim of the Borough’s suspicion in the
first scene when no-one will help him to pull in his boat. Key, however,
is the dialogue with Balstrode at the end of that scene where Oke spells
out Grimes’ plans in a surprisingly believable way - does anyone
really think that Jon Vickers will ever settle down with Ellen? - and
we sympathise with his re-telling of the scene of the apprentice’s
death. Then
What harbour shelters peace lifts the music up to
a whole new plane of transcendence, as if he (and, indeed, we) can feel
his dream within palpable reach. It’s incredibly powerful, and
it makes Grimes’ eventual fate all the more tragic. Oke’s
Grimes is a victim of circumstances and of his own character flaws;
not a wholly innocent one, certainly, but a man for whom things could
have worked out very differently. In this sense, the scene where he
strikes Ellen is very much the turning point of the action, the point
of no return where his fate seems to be sealed: “God have mercy
upon me!” sounds like a wail from the soul. His fate remains tragic,
though: he sounds haunted in the pub scene when he recalls the death
of the first apprentice and his recollections of that event temper the
savagery of the hut scene. His account of the final mad scene is one
of the finest I’ve heard because it recalls how humane the voice
was earlier in the opera and so shows us how far this character has
fallen. Oke’s is an interpretation for the ages.
Giselle Allen, who was a thrilling Ellen when I saw Opera North’s
astounding production in Newcastle, makes every bit as much of the role
here. She keeps a touch of the histrionics in her aria,
Let her among
you without fault, and rightly so as she is using it to reprimand
the villagers for their moral superiority. She is, touchingly, full
of hope in the opening scene of Act 2 when she imagines her new start
with Peter, but this evaporates when she notices the tear in the apprentice’s
coat and her cries of “Hush, Peter” seem devoid of hope.
Her embroidery aria is the culmination of this, encompassing so many
broken dreams but never in a mawkish or indulgent manner, and the beauty
of her voice is helped by her excellent acting ability. David Kempster’s
homely voice makes Balstrode approachable and humane, the closest thing
to an intermediary that we will find in the piece. His dialogue with
Grimes at the end of the storm scene is sympathetic, showing clearly
that he is on Grimes’ side, and this makes his injunction to Grimes
to commit suicide all the more heartbreaking, even more so because of
the matter-of-fact tone in which he delivers it.
The smaller parts are all cast from strength too, so that the crowd
scenes all bristle with colour. Gaynor Keeble is a formidable force
as Auntie, coming into her own in the pub scene where she clearly rules
the roost. Catherine Wyn-Rogers draws laughs from the audience as a
paranoid Mrs Sedley, though she sounds genuinely ominous in the first
scene of Act 3. Robert Murray’s slightly nasal voice sounds appropriately
nasty as Bob Boles, though Charles Rice is slightly anonymous as Ned
Keene. Henry Waddington is a bluff, vigorous Swallow in the mode of
Owen Brannigan.
Perhaps even more important is the role of the chorus, the backbone
of which is fittingly provided by Opera North, whose
Peter Grimes
was one of the most powerful nights I’ve ever had in the theatre.
They chant anonymously (but still dangerously) from the sidelines in
the opening inquest scene and sing the dawn music with great beauty
but also a sense of hollowness. They are hair-raising in the climaxes,
such as the arrival of the storm at the end of the first scene, or the
blood-curdling unison that sees out the end of Act 1. In Act 2 the speed
with which they close in, first on Ellen and then on Grimes, is chilling
and this culminates in a thunderous gathering of the mob in Act 3. It’s
a chilling reminder of how dangerous this crowd can be, yet how indifferent
they are in the final analysis.
All told, then, this is an outstanding addition to the
Peter Grimes
discography, worthy to set alongside the finest in the catalogue from
Davis, Hickox and, most authoritatively, from Britten himself. Everyone
involved rises to the special nature of the occasion and gives of their
very best. This is a set to invest in with confidence, and to continue
enjoying long after the Britten centenary has passed. The full libretto
(in English only) is included in the booklet, together with an essay
by Colin Matthews and brief artist biographies. The audience, by the
way, is extremely well behaved, so don’t be put off that it’s
a live recording.
Simon Thompson
Britten review index & discography:
Peter
Grimes
