Sir Peter Hall’s production of Britten’s opera A Midsummer Night’s Dream is older than most of the cast in this summer’s Glyndebourne Festival revival. Countertenor Tim Mead (Oberon) was barely a month old when the staging premiered on 1st July 1981. Britten had died only five years earlier. His partner, Peter Pears (who created the role of Flute), said at the opening night, “I just wish Ben had been here tonight…” There’s a reason this production became a fixture: it’s a classic production of an opera ideal for this idyllic festival.
Where Shakespeare opens his play in the Athenian court, Britten and Pears (who together adapted the Bard to shape their libretto) plunge the audience straight into the woods at night. And it’s that sinister nocturnal atmosphere that permeates Hall’s production, here revived by Lynne Hockney, who created the original choreography. John Bury’s set is literally alive. As the orchestra awakens from its slumber, double basses sighing queasy glissandos, harp and percussion prickling the senses, leaves rustle, branches creak, trees glide across the black lacquered flooring, manipulated by black-clad stagehands. There’s a constant feeling of being watched, under fairy surveillance.
The Tudorbethan costumes still dazzle, the fairies unsettling in their ruffs and spiky wigs, Oberon and Tytania in stiff rebato collars and towering hairpieces. Paul Pyant’s lighting bathes the stylised fairyland in silvery moonbeams.
This revival cast step into some pretty illustrious shoes. The 1981 Oberon was James Bowman, who died in March. Tim Mead sang the role last time round (2016) and his honeyed tone once again seduced, even if a few bottom notes occasionally felt out of reach (the part lies low), but “I know a bank” was beautifully polished and fluent. Mead was well-matched by Liv Redpath’s Tytania, silvery voiced, bright top notes hit dead centre. Young Oliver Barlow played Puck with impish glee, urging the audience into their applause when he “restores amends“ in his brief epilogue.
The four lovers caught up in Oberon and Puck’s meddling were well cast. Rachael Wilson’s dark mezzo as Hermia contrasted well with Lauren Fagan’s creamy soprano as Helena, both relishing the comedy in their sparring. Caspar Singh and Samuel Dale Johnson – towering over the ladies – were ardent suitors, both in noble voice although their portrayals will develop more personality through the run.
Dingle Yandell and Rosie Aldridge made their mark as Theseus and Hippolyta, his authoritative bass and her striking mezzo immediately catching the ear.
The Mechanicals were ably led by the experienced Henry Waddington, a patient and avuncular Peter Quince. Brandon Cedel played Bottom pretty straight, none too pompous, his bass-baritone occasionally on the lighter side, but catching the humour gently. James Way had a lot of fun with Flute’s Thisby solo which parodies Donizetti, his comical high note hiccups giving way to bel canto tragedy. Patrick Guetti’s cavernous bass and towering stature made much of Snug, while Alasdair Elliott’s Snout and Alex Otterburn’s Starveling were fine foils in the comic capers of the play-within-a-play.
One of the liveliest characterisations came from the pit, where Dalia Stasevska conducted the London Philharmonic Orchestra in a terrific account of Britten’s brilliant score, vividly conjuring up all the danger lurking in the woods, harp and percussion providing shards of moonlight. “Out of this wood do not desire to go!” In such a seductive orchestral rendition, it was tempting to stay there all night.
